 _Reg._                   Ah! what say'st thou?
 Wilt thou preserve me then?

 _Ham._                       I will.

 _Reg._                                But how?

 _Ham._ By leaving thee at liberty to _fly_.

 _Reg._                                      Ah!

 _Ham._ I will dismiss my guards on some pretence,
 Meanwhile do thou escape, and lie conceal'd:
 I will affect a rage I shall not feel,
 Unmoor my ships, and sail for Africa.

 _Reg._ Abhorr'd barbarian!

 _Ham._                   Well, what dost thou say?
 Art thou not much surpris'd?

 _Reg._                       I am, indeed.

 _Ham._ Thou could'st not then have hop'd it?

 _Reg._                          No! I could not.

 _Ham._ And yet I'm not a Roman.

 _Reg._ (_smiling contemptuously._) I perceive it.

 _Ham._ You may retire (_aloud to the guards_).

 _Reg._             No!--Stay, I charge you stay.

 _Ham._ And wherefore stay?

 _Reg._                  I thank thee for thy offer,
 But I shall go with thee.

 _Ham._                   'Tis well, proud man!
 Thou dost despise me, then?

 _Reg._                        No--but I pity thee.

 _Ham._ Why pity me?

 _Reg._                   Because thy poor dark soul
 Hath never felt the piercing ray of virtue.
 Know, African! the scheme thou dost propose
 Would injure me, thy country, and thyself.

 _Ham._ Thou dost mistake.

 _Reg._                   Who was it gave thee power
 To rule the destiny of Regulus?
 Am I a slave to Carthage, or to thee?

 _Ham._ What does it signify from whom, proud Roman!
 Thou dost receive this benefit?

 _Reg._                           A benefit?
 O savage ignorance! is it a benefit
 To lie, elope, deceive, and be a villain?

 _Ham._ What! not when life itself, when all's at stake?
 Know'st thou my countrymen prepare thee tortures
 That shock imagination but to think of?
 Thou wilt be mangled, butcher'd, rack'd, impal'd.
 Does not thy nature shrink?

 _Reg._ (_smiling at his threats._) Hamilcar! no.
 Dost thou not know the Roman genius better?
 We live on honour--'tis our food, our life.
 The motive, and the measure of our deeds!
 We look on death as on a common object;
 The tongue nor faulters, nor the cheek turns pale,
 Nor the calm eye is mov'd at sight of him:
 We court, and we embrace him undismay'd;
 We smile at tortures if they lead to glory,
 And only cowardice and guilt appal us.

 _Ham._ Fine sophistry! the valour of the tongue,
 The heart disclaims it; leave this pomp of words,
 And cease dissembling with a friend like me.
 I know that life is dear to all who live,
 That death is dreadful,--yes, and must be fear'd,
 E'en by the frozen apathists of Rome.

 _Reg._ Did I fear death when on Bagrada's banks
 I fac'd and slew the formidable serpent
 That made your boldest Africans recoil,
 And shrink with horror, though the monster liv'd
 A native inmate of their own parch'd deserts?
 Did I fear death before the gates of Adis?--
 Ask Bostar, or let Asdrubal confess.

 _Ham._ Or shall I rather of Xantippus ask,
 Who dar'd to undeceive deluded Rome,
 And prove this vaunter not invincible?
 'Tis even said, in Africa I mean,
 He made a prisoner of this demigod.--
 Did we not triumph then?

 _Reg._                     Vain boaster! no.
 No Carthaginian conquer'd Regulus;
 Xantippus was a Greek--a brave one too:
 Yet what distinction did your Afric make
 Between the man who serv'd her, and her foe:
 I was the object of her open hate;
 He, of her secret, dark malignity.
 He durst not trust the nation he had sav'd;
 He knew, and therefore fear'd you.--Yes, he knew
 Where once you were oblig'd you ne'er forgave.
 Could you forgive at all, you'd rather pardon
 The man who hated, than the man who serv'd you.
 Xantippus found his ruin ere it reach'd him,
 Lurking behind your honours and rewards;
 Found it in your feign'd courtesies and fawnings.
 When vice intends to strike a master stroke,
 Its veil is smiles, its language protestations.
 The Spartan's merit threaten'd, but his service
 Compell'd his ruin.--Both you could not pardon.

 _Ham._ Come, come, I know full well----

 _Reg._                          Barbarian! peace.
 I've heard too much.--Go, call thy followers:
 Prepare thy ships, and learn to do thy duty.

 _Ham._ Yes!--show thyself intrepid, and insult me;
 Call mine the blindness of barbarian friendship.
 On Tiber's banks I hear thee, and am calm:
 But know, thou scornful Roman! that too soon
 In Carthage thou may'st fear and feel my vengeance:
 Thy cold, obdurate pride shall there confess,
 Though Rome may talk--'tis Africa can punish.
                                          [_Exit._

 _Reg._ Farewell! I've not a thought to waste on thee.
 Where is the Consul? why does Publius stay?
 Alas! I fear--but see Attilia comes!--

    _Enter_ ATTILIA.

 _Reg._ What brings thee here, my child? what eager joy
 Transports thee thus?

 _At._              I cannot speak--my father!
 Joy chokes my utterance--Rome, dear grateful Rome,
 (Oh, may her cup with blessings overflow!)
 Gives up our common destiny to thee;
 Faithful and constant to th' advice thou gav'st her,
 She will not hear of peace, or change of slaves,
 But she insists--reward and bless her, gods!--
 That thou shalt here remain.

 _Reg._                   What! with the shame----

 _At._ Oh! no--the sacred senate hath consider'd
 That when to Carthage thou did'st pledge thy faith,
 Thou wast a captive, and that being such,
 Thou could'st not bind thyself in covenant.

 _Reg._ He who can die, is always free, my child!
 Learn farther, he who owns another's strength
 Confesses his own weakness.--Let them know,
 I swore I would return because I chose it,
 And will return, because I swore to do it.

    _Enter_ PUBLIUS.

 _Pub._ Vain is that hope, my father.

 _Reg._                          Who shall stop me?

 _Pub._ All Rome.----The citizens are up in arms:
 In vain would reason stop the growing torrent;
 In vain wouldst thou attempt to reach the port,
 The way is barr'd by thronging multitudes:
 The other streets of Rome are all deserted.

 _Reg._ Where, where is Manlius?

 _Pub._                       He is still thy friend:
 His single voice opposes a whole people;
 He threats this moment and the next entreats,
 But all in vain; none hear him, none obey.
 The general fury rises e'en to madness.
 The axes tremble in the lictors' hands,
 Who, pale and spiritless, want power to use them--
 And one wild scene of anarchy prevails.

 _Reg._ Farewell! my daughter. Publius, follow me.
                                   [_Exit_ PUBLIUS.

 _At._ Ah! where? I tremble----
                              [_Detaining_ REGULUS.

 _Reg._                        To assist my friend--
 T' upbraid my hapless country with her crime--
 To keep unstain'd the glory of these chains--
 To go, or perish.

 _At._               Oh! have mercy!

 _Reg._                                 Hold;
 I have been patient with thee; have indulg'd
 Too much the fond affections of thy soul;
 It is enough; thy grief would now offend
 Thy father's honour; do not let thy tears
 Conspire with Rome to rob me of my triumph.

 _At._ Alas! it wounds my soul.

 _Reg._                             I know it does.
 I know 'twill grieve thy gentle heart to lose me;
 But think, thou mak'st the sacrifice to Rome,
 And all is well again.

 _At._                   Alas! my father,
 In aught beside----

 _Reg._ What wouldst thou do, my child?
 Canst thou direct the destiny of Rome,
 And boldly plead amid the assembled senate?
 Canst thou, forgetting all thy sex's softness,
 Fiercely engage in hardy deeds of arms?
 Canst thou encounter labour, toil and famine,
 Fatigue and hardships, watchings, cold and heat?
 Canst thou attempt to serve thy country thus?
 Thou canst not:--but thou may'st sustain my loss
 Without these agonising pains of grief,
 And set a bright example of submission,
 Worthy a Roman's daughter.

 _At._                         Yet such fortitude--

 _Reg._ Is a most painful virtue;--but Attilia
 Is Regulus's daughter, and must have it.

 _At._ I will entreat the gods to give it me.
 Ah! thou art offended! I have lost thy love.

 _Reg._ Is this concern a mark that thou hast lost it?
 I cannot, cannot spurn my weeping child.
 Receive this proof of my paternal fondness;--
 Thou lov'st Licinius--he too loves my daughter.
 I give thee to his wishes; I do more--
 I give thee to his virtues.--Yes, Attilia,
 The noble youth deserves this dearest pledge
 Thy father's friendship ever can bestow.

 _At._ My lord! my father! wilt thou, canst thou leave me?
 The tender father will not quit his child!

 _Reg._ I am, I am thy father! as a proof,
 I leave thee my example how to suffer.
 My child! I have a heart within this bosom;
 That heart has passions--see in what we differ;
 Passion--which is thy tyrant--is my slave.

 _At._ Ah! stay my father. Ah!--

 _Reg._                       Farewell! farewell!
                                            [_Exit._

 _At._ Yes, Regulus! I feel thy spirit here,
 Thy mighty spirit struggling in this breast,
 And it shall conquer all these coward feelings,
 It shall subdue the woman in my soul;
 A Roman virgin should be something more--
 Should dare above her sex's narrow limits--
 And I will dare--and mis'ry shall assist me--
 My father! I will be indeed thy daughter!
 The hero shall no more disdain his child;
 Attilia shall not be the only branch
 That yields dishonour to the parent tree.

    _Enter_ BARCE.

 _Barce._ Attilia! is it true that Regulus,
 In spite of senate, people, augurs, friends,
 And children, will depart?

 _At._                       Yes, it is true.

 _Barce._ Oh! what romantic madness!

 _At._                                You forget--
 Barce! the deeds of heroes claim respect.

 _Barce._ Dost thou approve a virtue which must lead
 To chains, to tortures, and to certain death?

 _At._ Barce! those chains, those tortures, and that death,
 Will be his triumph.

 _Barce._                Thou art pleas'd, Attilia:
 By heav'n thou dost exult in his destruction!

 _At._ Ah! pitying powers.   [_Weeps._

 _Barce._                   I do not comprehend thee.

 _At._ No, Barce, I believe it.--Why, how shouldst thou?
 If I mistake not, thou wast born in Carthage,
 In a barbarian land, where never child
 Was taught to triumph in a father's chains.

 _Barce._ Yet thou dost weep--thy tears at least are honest,
 For they refuse to share thy tongue's deceit;
 They speak the genuine language of affliction,
 And tell the sorrows that oppress thy soul.

 _At._ Grief, that dissolves in tears, relieves the heart.
 When congregated vapours melt in rain,
 The sky is calm'd, and all's serene again.   [_Exit._

 _Barce._ Why, what a strange, fantastic land is this!
 This love of glory's the disease of Rome;
 It makes her mad, it is a wild delirium,
 An universal and contagious frenzy;
 It preys on all, it spares nor sex nor age:
 The Consul envies Regulus his chains--
 He, not less mad, contemns his life and freedom--
 The daughter glories in the father's ruin--
 And Publius, more distracted than the rest,
 Resigns the object that his soul adores,
 For this vain phantom, for this empty glory.
 This may be virtue; but I thank the gods,
 The soul of Barce's not a Roman soul.   [_Exit._


 _Scene within sight of the Tiber--Ships ready for the embarkation
  of Regulus and the Ambassador--Tribune and People stopping up the
  passage--Consul and Lictors endeavouring to clear it._

    MANLIUS _and_ LICINIUS _advance_.

 _Lic._ Rome will not suffer Regulus to go.

 _Man._ I thought the Consul and the Senators
 Had been a part of Rome.

 _Lic._                       I grant they are--
 But still the people are the greater part.

 _Man._ The greater, not the wiser.

 _Lic._                          The less cruel.----
 Full of esteem and gratitude to Regulus,
 We would preserve his life.

 _Man._                        And we his honour.

 _Lic._ His honour!----

 _Man._ Yes. Time presses. Words are vain.
 Make way there--clear the passage.

 _Lic._                             On your lives,
 Stir not a man.

 _Man._          I do command you, go.

 _Lic._ And I forbid it.

 _Man._                   Clear the way, my friends.
 How dares Licinius thus oppose the Consul?

 _Lic._ How dar'st thou, Manlius, thus oppose the Tribune?

 _Man._ I'll show thee what I dare, imprudent boy!--
 Lictors, force through the passage.

 _Lic._                          Romans, guard it.

 _Man._ Gods! is my power resisted then with arms?
 Thou dost affront the Majesty of Rome.

 _Lic._ The Majesty of Rome is in the people;
 Thou dost insult it by opposing them.

 _People._ Let noble Regulus remain in Rome.

 _Man._ My friends, let me explain this treacherous scheme.

 _People._ We will not hear thee----Regulus shall stay.

 _Man._ What! none obey me?

 _People._                      Regulus shall stay.

 _Man._ Romans, attend.----

 _People._                     Let Regulus remain.

    _Enter_ REGULUS, _followed by_ PUBLIUS, ATTILIA,
    HAMILCAR, BARCE, _&c._

 _Reg._ Let Regulus remain! What do I hear?
 Is't possible the wish should come from you?
 Can Romans give, or Regulus accept,
 A life of infamy? Is't possible?
 Where is the ancient virtue of my country?
 Rise, rise, ye mighty spirits of old Rome!
 I do invoke you from your silent tombs;
 Fabricius, Cocles, and Camillus, rise,
 And show your sons what their great fathers were.
 My countrymen, what crime have I committed?
 Alas! how has the wretched Regulus
 Deserv'd your hatred?

 _Lic._                   Hatred? ah! my friend,
 It is our love would break these cruel chains.

 _Reg._ If you deprive me of my chains, I'm nothing;
 They are my honours, riches, titles,--all!
 They'll shame my enemies, and grace my country;
 They'll waft her glory to remotest climes,
 Beyond her provinces and conquer'd realms,
 Where yet her conq'ring eagles never flew;
 Nor shall she blush hereafter if she find
 Recorded with her faithful citizens
 The name of Regulus, the captive Regulus.
 My countrymen! what, think you, kept in awe
 The Volsci, Sabines, AEqui, and Hernici?
 The arms of Rome alone? no, 'twas her virtue;
 That sole surviving good, which brave men keep
 Though fate and warring worlds combine against them:
 This still is mine--and I'll preserve it, Romans!
 The wealth of Plutus shall not bribe it from me!
 If you, alas! require this sacrifice,
 Carthage herself was less my foe than Rome;
 She took my freedom--she could take no more;
 But Rome, to crown her work, would take my honour.
 My friends! if you deprive me of my chains,
 I am no more than any other slave:
 Yes, Regulus becomes a common captive,
 A wretched, lying, perjur'd fugitive!
 But if, to grace my bonds, you leave my honour,
 I shall be still a Roman, though a slave.

 _Lic._ What faith should be observ'd with savages?
 What promise should be kept which bonds extort?

 _Reg._ Unworthy subterfuge! ah! let us leave
 To the wild Arab and the faithless Moor
 These wretched maxims of deceit and fraud:
 Examples ne'er can justify the coward:
 The brave man never seeks a vindication,
 Save from his own just bosom and the gods;
 From principle, not precedent, he acts:
 As that arraigns him, or as that acquits,
 He stands or falls; condemn'd or justified.

 _Lic._ Rome is no more if Regulus departs.

 _Reg._ Let Rome remember Regulus must die!
 Nor would the moment of my death be distant,
 If nature's work had been reserv'd for nature:
 What Carthage means to do, _she_ would have done
 As speedily, perhaps, at least as surely.
 My wearied life has almost reach'd its goal;
 The once-warm current stagnates in these veins,
 Or through its icy channels slowly creeps----
 View the weak arm; mark the pale furrow'd cheek,
 The slacken'd sinew, and the dim sunk eye,
 And tell me then I must not think of dying!
 How can I serve you else? My feeble limbs
 Would totter now beneath the armour's weight,
 The burden of that body it once shielded.
 You see, my friends, you see, my countrymen,
 I can no longer show myself a Roman,
 Except by dying like one.----Gracious Heaven
 Points out a way to crown my days with glory;
 Oh, do not frustrate, then, the will of Jove,
 And close a life of virtue with disgrace!
 Come, come, I know my noble Romans better;
 I see your souls, I read repentance in them;
 You all applaud me--nay, you wish my chains:
 'Twas nothing but excess of love misled you,
 And as you're Romans you will conquer that.
 Yes!--I perceive your weakness is subdu'd--
 Seize, seize the moment of returning virtue;
 Throw to the ground, my sons, those hostile arms;
 <DW44> no longer Regulus's triumph;
 I do request it of you, as a friend,
 I call you to your duty, as a patriot,
 And--were I still your gen'ral, I'd command you.

 _Lic._ Lay down your arms--let Regulus depart.

    [_To the People, who clear the way, and quit their arms._

 _Reg._ Gods! gods! I thank you--you indeed are righteous.

 _Pub._ See every man disarm'd. Oh, Rome! oh, father!

 _At._ Hold, hold my heart. Alas! they all obey.

 _Reg._ The way is clear. Hamilcar, I attend thee.

 _Ham._ Why, I begin to envy this old man!   [_Aside._

 _Man._ Not the proud victor on the day of triumph,
 Warm from the slaughter of dispeopled realms,
 Though conquer'd princes grace his chariot wheels,
 Though tributary monarchs wait his nod,
 And vanquish'd nations bend the knee before him,
 E'er shone with half the lustre that surrounds
 This voluntary sacrifice for Rome!
 Who loves his country will obey her laws;
 Who most obeys them is the truest patriot.

 _Reg._ Be our last parting worthy of ourselves.
 Farewell! my friends.--I bless the gods who rule us,
 Since I must leave you, that I leave you Romans.
 Preserve the glorious name untainted still,
 And you shall be the rulers of the globe,
 The arbiters of earth. The farthest east,
 Beyond where Ganges rolls his rapid flood,
 Shall proudly emulate the Roman name.
 (_Kneels._) Ye gods, the guardians of this glorious people,
 Who watch with jealous eye AEneas' race,
 This land of heroes I commit to you!
 This ground, these walls, this people be your care!
 Oh! bless them, bless them with a liberal hand!
 Let fortitude and valour, truth and justice,
 For ever flourish and increase among them!
 And if some baneful planet threat the Capitol
 With its malignant influence, oh, avert it!--
 Be Regulus the victim of your wrath.--
 On this white head be all your vengeance pour'd,
 But spare, oh, spare, and bless immortal Rome!
 Ah! tears? my Romans weep? Farewell! farewell!

 ATTILIA _struggles to get to_ REGULUS--_is prevented--she
 faints--he fixes his eye steadily on her for some time,
 and then departs to the ships_.

 _Man._ (_looking after him._)
 Farewell! farewell! thou glory of mankind!
 Protector, father, saviour of thy country!
 Through Regulus the Roman name shall live,
 Shall triumph over time, and mock oblivion.
 Farewell! thou pride of this immortal coast!
 'Tis Rome alone a Regulus can boast.




 EPILOGUE.

 WRITTEN BY DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

 SPOKEN BY MISS MANSELL.


 What son of physic, but his art extends,
 As well as hand, when call'd on by his friends?
 What landlord is so weak to make you fast,
 When guests like you bespeak a good repast?
 But weaker still were he whom fate has plac'd
 To soothe your cares, and gratify your taste,
 Should he neglect to bring before your eyes
 Those dainty dramas which from genius rise;
 Whether your luxury be to smile or weep,
 His and your profits just proportion keep.
 To-night he brought, nor fears a due reward,
 A Roman Patriot by a Female Bard.
 Britons who feel his flame, his worth will rate,
 No common spirit his, no common fate.
 INFLEXIBLE and CAPTIVE must be great.
 "How!" cries a sucking <DW2>, thus lounging, straddling
 (Whose head shows want of ballast by its nodding),
 "A woman write? Learn, Madam, of your betters,
 And read a noble Lord's Post-hu-mous Letters.
 There you will learn the sex may merit praise
 By making puddings--not by making plays:
 They can make tea and mischief, dance and sing;
 Their heads, though full of feathers, can't take wing."
 I thought they could, Sir; now and then by chance,
 Maids fly to Scotland, and some wives to France.
 He still went nodding on--"Do all she can,
 Woman's a trifle--play-thing--like her fan."
 Right, Sir, and when a wife the _rattle_ of a man.
 And shall such _things_ as these become the test
 Of female worth? the fairest and the best
 Of all heaven's creatures? for so Milton sung us,
 And, with such champions, who shall dare to wrong us?
 Come forth, proud man, in all your pow'rs array'd;
 Shine out in all your splendour--Who's afraid?
 Who on French wit has made a glorious war,
 Defended Shakspeare, and subdu'd Voltaire?--
 Woman![A]--Who, rich in knowledge, knows no pride,
 Can boast ten tongues, and yet not satisfied?
 Woman![B]--Who lately sung the sweetest lay?
 A woman! woman! woman![C] still I say.
 Well, then, who dares deny our power and might?
 Will any married man dispute our right?
 Speak boldly, Sirs,--your wives are not in sight.
 What! are you silent? then you are content;
 Silence, the proverb tells us, gives consent.
 Critics, will you allow our honest claim?
 Are you dumb, too? This night has fix'd our fame.




FOOTNOTES.

    A: Mrs. Montague, Author of an Essay on the Writings of
    Shakspeare.

    B: Mrs. Carter, well known for her skill in ancient and
    modern languages.

    C: Miss Aikin, whose Poems were just published.


 LONDON:
 Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode,
 New-Street-Square.




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Hyphenation is inconsistent.

In view of the Roman context, the word "virtus" was left in place in
a speech by Manlius in Act III, although it may be a misprint for
"virtue".





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inflexible Captive, by Hannah More

*** 





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                        THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

        NUMBER 28.      SATURDAY, JANUARY 9, 1841.      VOLUME I.

[Illustration: CASTLE-CAULFIELD, COUNTY OF TYRONE.]

The subject of our prefixed illustration is one of no small interest,
whether considered as a fine example--for Ireland--of the domestic
architecture of the reign of James I, or as an historical memorial of the
fortunes of the illustrious family whose name it bears--the noble house
of Charlemont, of which it was the original residence. It is situated
near the village of the same name, in the parish of Donaghmore, barony of
Dungannon, and about three miles west of Dungannon, the county town.

Castle-Caulfield owes its erection to Sir Toby Caulfield, afterwards
Lord Charlemont--a distinguished English soldier who had fought in Spain
and the Low Countries in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and commanded a
company of one hundred and fifty men in Ireland in the war with O’Neill,
Earl of Tyrone, at the close of her reign. For these services he was
rewarded by the Queen with a grant of part of Tyrone’s estate, and other
lands in the province of Ulster; and on King James’s accession to the
British crown, was honoured with knighthood, and made governor of the
fort of Charlemont, and of the counties of Tyrone and Armagh. At the
plantation of Ulster he received further grants of lands, and among them
1000 acres called Ballydonnelly, or O’Donnelly’s town, in the barony of
Dungannon, on which, in 1614, he commenced the erection of the mansion
subsequently called Castle-Caulfield. This mansion is described by Pynnar
in his Survey of Ulster in 1618-19, in the following words:--

“Sir Toby Caulfield hath one thousand acres called Ballydonnell [_recte_
Ballydonnelly], whereunto is added beside what was certified by Sir
Josias Bodley, a fair house or castle, the front whereof is eighty feet
in length and twenty-eight feet in breadth from outside to outside, two
cross ends fifty feet in length and twenty-eight feet in breadth: the
walls are five feet thick at the bottom, and four at the top, very good
cellars under ground, and all the windows are of hewn stone. Between
the two cross ends there goeth a wall, which is eighteen feet high, and
maketh a small court within the building. This work at this time is but
thirteen feet high, and a number of men at work for the sudden finishing
of it. There is also a strong bridge over the river, which is of lime and
stone, with strong buttresses for the supporting of it. And to this is
joined a good water-mill for corn, all built of lime and stone. This is
at this time the fairest building I have seen. Near unto this Bawne there
is built a town, in which there is fifteen English families, who are able
to make twenty men with arms.”

The ruins of this celebrated mansion seem to justify the opinion
expressed by Pynnar, that it was the fairest building he had seen, that
is, in the counties of the plantation, for there are no existing remains
of any house erected by the English or Scottish undertakers equal to
it in architectural style. It received, however, from the second Lord
Charlemont, the addition of a large gate-house with towers, and also of a
strong keep or donjon.

From the ancient maps of Ulster of Queen Elizabeth’s time, preserved in
the State Paper Office, Castle-Caulfield appears to have been erected
on the site of a more ancient castle or fort, called Fort O’Donallie,
from the chief of the ancient Irish family of O’Donghaile or O’Donnelly,
whose residence it was, previously to the confiscation of the northern
counties; and the small lake in its vicinity was called Lough O’Donallie.
This family of O’Donnelly were a distinguished branch of the Kinel-Owen,
or northern Hy-Niall race, of which the O’Neills were the chiefs in the
sixteenth century; and it was by one of the former that the celebrated
Shane or John O’Neill, surnamed the proud, and who also bore the cognomen
of Donghailach, or the Donnellian, was fostered, as appears from the
following entry in the Annals of the Four Masters, at the year 1531:--

“Ballydonnelly was assaulted by Niall Oge, the son of Art, who was the
son of Con O’Neill. He demolished the castle, and having made a prisoner
of the son of O’Neill, who was the foster-son of O’Donnelly, he carried
him off, together with several horses and the other spoils of the place.”

We have felt it necessary to state the preceding facts relative to the
ancient history of Ballydonnelly, or Castle-Caulfield, as it is now
denominated, because an error of Pynnar’s, in writing the ancient name as
Ballydonnell--not Ballydonnelly, as it should have been--has been copied
by Lodge, Archdall, and all subsequent writers; some of whom have fallen
into a still more serious mistake, by translating the name as “the town
of O’Donnell,” thus attributing the ancient possession of the locality
to a family to whom it never belonged. That Ballydonnelly was truly,
as we have stated, the ancient name of the place, and that it was the
patrimonial residence of the chief of that ancient family, previously
to the plantation of Ulster, must be sufficiently indicated by the
authorities we have already adduced; but if any doubt on this fact could
exist, it would be removed by the following passage in an unpublished
Irish MS. Journal of the Rebellion of 1641, in our own possession,
from which it appears that, as usual with the representatives of the
dispossessed Irish families on the breaking out of that unhappy conflict,
the chief of the O’Donnellys seized upon the Castle-Caulfield mansion as
of right his own:--

“October 1641. Lord Caulfield’s castle in Ballydonnelly (_Baile I
Donghoile_) was taken by Patrick Moder (the gloomy) O’Donnelly.”

The Lord Charlemont, with his family, was at this time absent from
his home in command of the garrison of Charlemont, and it was not his
fate ever to see it afterwards; he was treacherously captured in his
fortress about the same period by the cruel Sir Phelim O’Neill, and was
barbarously murdered while under his protection, if not, as seems the
fact, by his direction, on the 1st of March following. Nor was this
costly and fairest house of its kind in “the north” ever after inhabited
by any of his family; it was burned in those unhappy “troubles,” and left
the melancholy, though picturesque memorial of sad events which we now
see it.

                                                                       P.




THE LAKE OF THE LOVERS, A LEGEND OF LEITRIM.


How many lovely spots in this our beautiful country are never embraced
within those pilgrimages after the picturesque, which numbers
periodically undertake, rather to see what is known to many, and
therefore should be so to them, than to visit nature, for her own sweet
sake, in her more devious and undistinguished haunts! For my part, I
am well pleased that the case stands thus. I love to think that I am
treading upon ground unsullied by the footsteps of the now numerous
tribe of mere professional peripatetics--that my eyes are wandering over
scenery, the freshness of which has been impaired by no transfer to the
portfolio of the artist or the tablets of the poetaster: that, save
the scattered rustic residents, there is no human link to connect its
memorials with the days of old, and, save their traditionary legends, no
story to tell of its fortunes in ancient times. The sentiment is no doubt
selfish as well as anti-utilitarian; but then I must add that it is only
occasional, and will so far be pardoned by all who know how delightful
it is to take refuge in the indulgent twilight of tradition from the
rugged realities of recorded story. At all events, a rambler in any of
our old, and especially mountainous tracts, will rarely lack abundant
aliment for his thus modified sense of beauty, sublimity, or antiquarian
fascination; and scenes have unexpectedly opened upon me in the solitudes
of the hills and lakes of some almost untrodden and altogether unwritten
districts, that have had more power to stir my spirit than the lauded and
typographed, the versified and pictured magnificence of Killarney or of
Cumberland, of Glendalough or of Lomond. It may have been perverseness
of taste, or the fitness of mood, or the influence of circumstance, but
I have been filled with a feeling of the beautiful when wandering among
noteless and almost nameless localities to which I have been a stranger,
when standing amid the most boasted beauties with the appliances of
hand-book and of guide, with appetite prepared, and sensibilities on the
alert. It is I suppose partly because the power of beauty being relative,
a high pitch of expectancy requires a proportionate augmentation of
excellence, and partly because the tincture of contrariety in our
nature ever inclines us to enact the perverse critic, when called on to
be the implicit votary. This in common with most others I have often
felt, but rarely more so than during a casual residence some short
time since among the little celebrated, and therefore perhaps a little
more charming, mountain scenery of the county, which either has been,
or might be, called Leitrim of the Lakes; for a tract more pleasantly
diversified with well-set sheets of water, it would I think be difficult
to name. Almost every hill you top has its still and solitary tarn, and
almost every amphitheatre you enter, encompasses its wild and secluded
lake--not seldom bearing on its placid bosom some little islet, linked
with the generations past, by monastic or castellated ruins, as its
seclusion or its strength may have invited the world-wearied anchorite to
contemplation, or the predatory chieftain to defence.

On such a remote and lonely spot I lately chanced to alight, in the
course of a long summer day’s ramble among the heights and hollows of
that lofty range which for a considerable space abuts upon the borders
of Sligo and Roscommon. The ground was previously unknown to me, and
with all the zest which novelty and indefiniteness can impart, I started
staff in hand with the early sun, and ere the mists had melted from the
purple heather of their cloud-like summits, was drawing pure and balmy
breath within the lonely magnificence of the hills. About noon, as I was
casting about for some pre-eminently happy spot to fling my length for
an hour or two’s repose, I reached the crest of a long gradual ascent
that had been some time tempting me to look what lay beyond; and surely
enough I found beauty sufficient to dissolve my weariness, had it been
tenfold multiplied, and to allay my pulse, had it throbbed with the
vehemence of fever. An oblong valley girdled a lovely lake on every side;
here with precipitous impending cliffs, and there with grassy <DW72>s of
freshest emerald that seemed to woo the dimpling waters to lave their
loving margins, and, as if moved with a like impulse, the little wavelets
met the call with the gentle dalliance of their ebb and flow. A small
wooded island, with its fringe of willows trailing in the water, stood
about a furlong from the hither side, and in the centre of its tangled
brake, my elevation enabled me to descry what I may call the remnants of
a ruin--for so far had it gone in its decay--here green, there grey, as
the moss, the ivy, or the pallid stains of time, had happened to prevail.
A wild duck, with its half-fledged clutch, floated fearless from its
sedgy shore. More remote, a fishing heron stood motionless on a stone,
intent on its expected prey; and the only other animated feature in the
quiet scene was a fisherman who had just moored his little boat, and
having settled his tackle, was slinging his basket on his arm and turning
upward in the direction where I lay. I watched the old man toiling up
the steep, and as he drew nigh, hailed him, as I could not suffer him to
pass without learning at least the name, if it had one, of this miniature
Amhara. He readily complied, and placing his fish-basket on the ground,
seated himself beside it, not unwilling to recover his breath and recruit
his scanty stock of strength almost expended in the ascent. “We call it,”
said he in answer to my query, “the Lake of the Ruin, or sometimes, to
such as know the story, the Lake of the Lovers, after the two over whom
the tombstone is placed inside yon mouldering walls. It is an old story.
My grandfather told me, when a child, that he minded his grandfather
telling it to him, and for anything he could say, it might have come down
much farther. Had I time, I’d be proud to tell it to your honour, who
seems a stranger in these parts, for it’s not over long; but I have to go
to the Hall, and that’s five long miles off, with my fish for dinner, and
little time you’ll say I have to spare, though it be down hill nearly all
the way.” It would have been too bad to allow such a well-met chronicler
to pass unpumped, and, putting more faith in the attractions of my pocket
than of my person, I produced on the instant my luncheon-case and
flask, and handing him a handsome half of the contents of the former,
made pretty sure of his company for a time, by keeping the latter in my
own possession till I got him regularly launched in the story, when, to
quicken at once his recollection and his elocution, I treated him to an
inspiring draught. When he had told his tale, he left me with many thanks
for the refection; and I descending to his boat, entered it, and with the
aid of a broken oar contrived to scull myself over to the island, the
scene of the final fortunes of Connor O’Rourke and Norah M’Diarmod, the
faithful-hearted but evil-fated pair who were in some sort perpetuated in
its name. There, in sooth, within the crumbled walls, was the gravestone
which covered the dust of him the brave and her the beautiful; and
seating myself on the fragment of a sculptured capital, that showed
how elaborately reared the ruined edifice had been, I bethought me how
poorly man’s existence shows even beside the work of his own hands, and
endeavoured for a time to make my thoughts run parallel with the history
of this once-venerated but now forsaken, and, save by a few, forgotten
structure; but finding myself fail in the attempt, settled my retrospect
on that brief period wherein it was identified with the two departed
lovers whose story I had just heard, and which, as I sat by their lowly
sepulchre, I again repeated to myself.

This lake, as my informant told me, once formed a part of the boundary
between the possessions of O’Rourke the Left-handed and M’Diarmod the
Dark-faced, as they were respectively distinguished, two small rival
chiefs, petty in property but pre-eminent in passion, to whom a most
magnificent mutual hatred had been from generations back “bequeathed from
bleeding sire to son”--a legacy constantly swelled by accruing outrages,
for their paramount pursuits were plotting each other’s detriment or
destruction, planning or parrying plundering inroads, inflicting or
avenging injuries by open violence or secret subtlety, as seemed more
likely to promote their purposes. At the name of an O’Rourke, M’Diarmod
would clutch his battle-axe, and brandish it as if one of the detested
clan were within its sweep: and his rival, nothing behind in hatred,
would make the air echo to his deep-drawn imprecation on M’Diarmod
and all his abominated breed when any thing like an opportunity was
afforded him. Their retainers of course shared the same spirit of mutual
abhorrence, exaggerated indeed, if that were possible, by their more
frequent exposure to loss in cattle and in crops, for, as is wont to be
the case, the cottage was incontinently ravaged when the stronghold was
prudentially respected. O’Rourke had a son, an only one, who promised
to sustain or even raise the reputation of the clan, for the youth knew
not what it was to blench before flesh and blood--his feet were over
foremost, in the wolf-hunt or the foray, and in agility, in valour, or
in vigour, none within the compass of a long day’s travel could stand
in comparison with young Connor O’Rourke. Detestation of the M’Diarmods
had been studiously instilled from infancy, of course; but although the
youth’s cheek would flush and his heart beat high when any perilous
adventure was the theme, yet, so far at least, it sprang more from
the love of prowess and applause than from the deadly hostility that
thrilled in the pulses of his father and his followers. In the necessary
intervals of forbearance, as in seed-time, harvest, or other brief
breathing-spaces, he would follow the somewhat analogous and bracing
pleasures of the chase; and often would the wolf or the stag--for shaggy
forests then clothed these bare and desert hills--fall before his spear
or his dogs, as he fleetly urged the sport afoot. It chanced one evening
that in the ardour of pursuit he had followed a tough, long-winded stag
into the dangerous territory of M’Diarmod. The chase had taken to the
water of the lake, and he with his dogs had plunged in after in the
hope of heading it; but having failed in this, and in the hot flush of
a hunter’s blood scorning to turn back, he pressed it till brought down
within a few spear-casts of the M’Diarmod’s dwelling. Proud of having
killed his venison under the very nose of the latter, he turned homeward
with rapid steps; for, the fire of the chase abated, he felt how fatal
would be the discovery of his presence, and was thinking with complacency
upon the wrath of the old chief on hearing of the contemptuous feat, when
his eye was arrested by a white figure moving slowly in the shimmering
mists of nightfall by the margin of the lake. Though insensible to the
fear of what was carnal and of the earth, he was very far from being so
to what savoured of the supernatural, and, with a slight ejaculation half
of surprise and half of prayer, he was about changing his course to give
it a wider berth, when his dogs espied it, and, recking little of the
spiritual in its appearance, bounded after it in pursuit. With a slight
scream that proclaimed it feminine as well as human, the figure fled, and
the youth had much to do both with legs and lungs to reach her in time to
preserve her from the rough respects of his ungallant escort. Beautiful
indignation lightened from the dark eyes and sat on the pouting lip of
Norah M’Diarmod--for it was the chieftain’s daughter--as she turned
disdainfully towards him.

“Is it the bravery of an O’Rourke to hunt a woman with his dogs? Young
chief, you stand upon the ground of M’Diarmod, and your name from the
lips of her”--she stopped, for she had time to glance again upon his
features, and had no longer heart to upbraid one who owned a countenance
so handsome and so gallant, so eloquent of embarrassment as well as
admiration.

Her tone of asperity and wounded pride declined into a murmur of
acquiescence as she hearkened to the apologies and deprecations of the
youth, whose gallantry and feats had so often rung in her ears, though
his person she had but casually seen, and his voice she had never before
heard. The case stood similar with Connor. He had often listened to the
praises of Norah’s beauty; he had occasionally caught distant glimpses of
her graceful figure; and the present sight, or after recollection, often
mitigated his feelings to her hostile clan, and, to his advantage, the
rugged old chief was generally associated with the lovely dark-eyed girl
who was his only child.

Such being their respective feelings, what could be the result of
their romantic rencounter? They were both young, generous children
of nature, with hearts fraught with the unhacknied feelings of youth
and inexperience: they had drunk in sentiment with the sublimities
of their mountain homes, and were fitted for higher things than the
vulgar interchange of animosity and contempt. Of this they soon were
conscious, and they did not separate until the stars began to burn above
them, and not even then, before they had made arrangements for at least
another--one more secret interview. The islet possessed a beautiful
fitness for their trysting place, as being accessible from either side,
and little obnoxious to observation; and many a moonlight meeting--for
the _one_ was inevitably multiplied--had these children of hostile
fathers, perchance on the very spot on which my eyes now rested, and
the unbroken stillness around had echoed to their gladsome greetings or
their faltering farewells. Neither dared to divulge an intercourse that
would have stirred to frenzy the treasured rancour of their respective
parents, each of whom would doubtless have preferred a connexion with
a blackamoor--if such were then in circulation--to their doing such
grievous despite to that ancient feud which as an heirloom had been
transmitted from ancestors whose very names they scarcely knew. M’Diarmod
the Dark-faced was at best but a gentle tiger even to his only child; and
though his stern cast-iron countenance would now and then relax beneath
her artless blandishments, yet even with the lovely vision at his side,
he would often grimly deplore that she had not been a son, to uphold the
name and inherit the headship of the clan, which on his demise would
probably pass from its lineal course; and when he heard of the bold
bearing of the heir of O’Rourke, he thought he read therein the downfall
of the M’Diarmods when he their chief was gone. With such ill-smothered
feelings of discontent he could not but in some measure repulse the
filial regards of Norah, and thus the confiding submission that would
have sprung to meet the endearments of his love, was gradually refused
to the inconsistencies of his caprice; and the maiden in her intercourse
with her proscribed lover rarely thought of her father, except as one
from whom it should be diligently concealed.

But unfortunately this was not to be. One of the night marauders of his
clan chanced in an evil hour to see Connor O’Rourke guiding his coracle
to the island, and at the same time a cloaked female push cautiously
from the opposite shore for the same spot. Surprised, he crouched among
the fern till their landing and joyous greeting put all doubt of their
friendly understanding to flight; and then, thinking only of revenge or
ransom, the unsentimental scoundrel hurried round the lake to M’Diarmod,
and informed him that the son of his mortal foe was within his reach.
The old man leaped from his couch of rushes at the thrilling news, and,
standing on his threshold, uttered a low gathering-cry, which speedily
brought a dozen of his more immediate retainers to his presence. As he
passed his daughter’s apartment, he for the first time asked himself who
can the woman be? and at the same moment almost casually glanced at
Norah’s chamber, to see that all there was quiet for the night. A shudder
of vague terror ran through his sturdy frame as his eye fell on the low
open window. He thrust in his head, but no sleeper drew breath within; he
re-entered the house and called aloud upon his daughter, but the echo of
her name was the only answer. A kern coming up put an end to the search,
by telling that he had seen his young mistress walking down to the
water’s edge about an hour before, but that, as she had been in the habit
of doing so by night for some time past, he had thought but little of it.
The odious truth was now revealed, and, trembling with the sudden gust of
fury, the old chief with difficulty rushed to the lake, and, filling a
couple of boats with his men, told them to pull for the honour of their
name and for the head of the O’Rourke’s first-born.

During this stormy prelude to a bloody drama, the doomed but unconscious
Connor was sitting secure within the dilapidated chapel by the side
of her whom he had won. Her quickened ear first caught the dip of an
oar, and she told her lover; but he said it was the moaning of the
night-breeze through the willows, or the ripple of the water among the
stones, and went on with his gentle dalliance. A few minutes, however,
and the shock of the keels upon the ground, the tread of many feet, and
the no longer suppressed cries of the M’Diarmods, warned him to stand on
his defence; and as he sprang from his seat to meet the call, the soft
illumination of love was changed with fearful suddenness into the baleful
fire of fierce hostility.

“My Norah, leave me; you may by chance be rudely handled in the scuffle.”

The terrified but faithful girl fell upon his breast.

“Connor, your fate is mine; hasten to your boat, if it be not yet too
late.”

An iron-shod hunting pole was his only weapon; and using it with his
right arm, while Norah hung upon his left, he sprang without further
parley through an aperture in the wall, and made for the water. But his
assailants were upon him, the M’Diarmod himself with upraised battle-axe
at their head.

“Spare my father,” faltered Norah; and Connor, with a mercifully
directed stroke, only dashed the weapon from the old man’s hand, and
then, clearing a passage with a vigorous sweep, accompanied with the
well-known charging cry, before which they had so often quailed, bounded
through it to the water’s brink. An instant, and with her who was now
more than his second self, he was once more in his little boat; but,
alas! it was aground, and so quickly fell the blows against him, that he
dare not adventure to shove it off. Letting Norah slip from his hold,
she sank backwards to the bottom of the boat; and then, with both arms
free, he redoubled his efforts, and after a short but furious struggle
succeeded in getting the little skiff afloat. Maddened at the sight, the
old chief rushed breast-deep into the water; but his right arm had been
disabled by a casual blow, and his disheartened followers feared, under
the circumstances, to come within range of that well-wielded club. But
a crafty one among them had already seized on a safer and surer plan.
He had clambered up an adjacent tree, armed with a heavy stone, and now
stood on one of the branches above the devoted boat, and summoned him to
yield, if he would not perish. The young chief’s renewed exertions were
his only answer.

“Let him escape, and your head shall pay for it,” shouted the infuriated
father.

The fellow hesitated. “My young mistress?”

“There are enough here to save her, if I will it. Down with the stone, or
by the blood----”

He needed not to finish the sentence, for down at the word it came,
striking helpless the youth’s right arm, and shivering the frail timber
of the boat, which filled at once, and all went down. For an instant
an arm re-appeared, feebly beating the water in vain--it was the young
chief’s broken one: the other held his Norah in its embrace, as was seen
by her white dress flaunting for a few moments on and above the troubled
surface. The lake at this point was deep, and though there was a rush of
the M’Diarmods towards it, yet in their confusion they were but awkward
aids, and the fluttering ensign that marked the fatal spot had sunk
before they reached it. The strength of Connor, disabled as he was by
his broken limb, and trammelled by her from whom even the final struggle
could not dissever him, had failed; and with her he loved locked in his
last embrace, they were after a time recovered from the water, and laid
side by side upon the bank, in all their touching, though, alas, lifeless
beauty! Remorse reached the rugged hearts even of those who had so
ruthlessly dealt by them; and as they looked on their goodly forms, thus
cold and senseless by a common fate, the rudest felt that it would be
an impious and unpardonable deed to do violence to their memory, by the
separation of that union which death itself had sanctified. Thus were
they laid in one grave; and, strange as it may appear, their fathers,
crushed and subdued, exhausted even of resentment by the overwhelming
stroke--for nothing can quell the stubborn spirit like the extremity of
sorrow--crossed their arms in amity over their remains, and grief wrought
the reconciliation which even centuries of time, that great pacificator,
had failed to do.

The westering sun now warning me that the day was on the wane, I gave but
another look to the time-worn tombstone, another sigh to the early doom
of those whom it enclosed, and then, with a feeling of regret, again left
the little island to its still, unshared, and pensive loneliness.




ANCIENT IRISH LITERATURE--No. IV.


The composition which we have selected as our fourth specimen of the
ancient literature of Ireland, is a poem, more remarkable, perhaps,
for its antiquity and historical interest, than for its poetic merits,
though we do not think it altogether deficient in those. It is ascribed,
apparently with truth, to the celebrated poet Mac Liag, the secretary of
the renowned monarch Brian Boru, who, as our readers are aware, fell at
the battle of Clontarf in 1014; and the subject of it is a lamentation
for the fallen condition of Kincora, the palace of that monarch,
consequent on his death.

The decease of Mac Liag, whose proper name was Muircheartach, is thus
recorded in the Annals of the Four Masters, at the year 1015:--

“Mac Liag, i. e. Muirkeartach, son of Conkeartach, at this time laureate
of Ireland, died.”

A great number of his productions are still in existence; but none of
them have obtained a popularity so widely extended as the poem before us.

Of the palace of Kincora, which was situated on the banks of the Shannon,
near Killaloe, there are at present no vestiges.


LAMENTATION OF MAC LIAG FOR KINCORA.

A Chinn-copath carthi Brian?

    Oh, where, Kincora! is Brian the Great?
    And where is the beauty that once was thine?
    Oh, where are the princes and nobles that sate
    At the feast in thy halls, and drank the red wine?
                            Where, oh, Kincora?

    Oh, where, Kincora! are thy valorous lords?
    Oh, whither, thou Hospitable! are they gone?
    Oh, where are the Dalcassians of the Golden Swords?[1]
    And where are the warriors that Brian led on?
                            Where, oh, Kincora?

    And where is Morogh, the descendant of kings--
    The defeater of a hundred--the daringly brave--
    Who set but slight store by jewels and rings--
    Who swam down the torrent and laughed at its wave?
                            Where, oh, Kincora?

    And where is Donogh, King Brian’s worthy son?
    And where is Conaing, the Beautiful Chief?
    And Kian, and Corc? Alas! they are gone--
    They have left me this night alone with my grief!
                            Left me, Kincora!

    And where are the chiefs with whom Brian went forth,
    The never-vanquished son of Evin the Brave,
    The great King of Onaght, renowned for his worth,
    And the hosts of Baskinn, from the western wave?
                            Where, oh, Kincora?

    Oh, where is Duvlann of the Swiftfooted Steeds?
    And where is Kian, who was son of Molloy?
    And where is King Lonergan, the fame of whose deeds
    In the red battle-field no time can destroy?
                            Where, oh, Kincora?

    And where is that youth of majestic height,
    The faith-keeping Prince of the Scots?--Even he,
    As wide as his fame was, as great as was his might,
    Was tributary, oh, Kincora, to me!
                            Me, oh, Kincora!

    They are gone, those heroes of royal birth,
    Who plundered no churches, and broke no trust,
    ’Tis weary for me to be living on the earth
    When they, oh, Kincora, lie low in the dust!
                            Low, oh, Kincora!

    Oh, never again will Princes appear,
    To rival the Dalcassians of the Cleaving Swords!
    I can never dream of meeting afar or anear,
    In the east or the west, such heroes and lords!
                            Never, Kincora!

    Oh, dear are the images my memory calls up
    Of Brian Boru!--how he never would miss
    To give me at the banquet the first bright cup!
    Ah! why did he heap on me honour like this?
                            Why, oh, Kincora?

    I am Mac Liag, and my home is on the Lake:
    Thither often, to that palace whose beauty is fled,
    Came Brian to ask me, and I went for his sake.
    Oh, my grief! that I should live, and Brian be dead!
                            Dead, oh, Kincora!

                                                         M.

[1] _Coolg n-or_, of the swords _of gold_, i. e. of the _gold-hilted_
swords.




COLUMN FOR THE YOUNG.

Biography of a mouse.


“Biography of a mouse!” cries the reader; “well, what shall we have
next?--what can the writer mean by offering such nonsense for our
perusal?” There is no creature, reader, however insignificant and
unimportant in the great scale of creation it may appear to us,
short-sighted mortals that we are, which is forgotten in the care of
our own common Creator; not a sparrow falls to the ground unknown and
unpermitted by Him; and whether or not you may derive interest from the
biography even of a mouse, you will be able to form a better judgment,
after, than before, having read my paper.

The mouse belongs to the class _Mammalia_, or the animals which rear
their young by suckling them; to the order _Rodentia_, or animals whose
teeth are adapted for _gnawing_; to the genus _Mus_, or Rat kind, and the
family of _Mus musculus_, or domestic mouse. The mouse is a singularly
beautiful little animal, as no one who examines it attentively, and
without prejudice, can fail to discover. Its little body is plump and
sleek; its neck short; its head tapering and graceful; and its eyes
large, prominent, and sparkling. Its manners are lively and interesting,
its agility surprising, and its habits extremely cleanly. There are
several varieties of this little creature, amongst which the best known
is the common brown mouse of our granaries and store-rooms; the Albino,
or white mouse, with red eyes; and the black and white mouse, which is
more rare and very delicate. I mention these as _varieties_, for I think
we may safely regard them as such, from the fact of their propagating
unchanged, preserving their difference of hue to the fiftieth generation,
and never accidentally occurring amongst the offspring of differently
 parents.

It is of the white mouse that I am now about to treat, and it is an
account of a tame individual of that extremely pretty variety that is
designed to form the subject of my present paper.

When I was a boy of about sixteen, I got possession of a white mouse; the
little creature was very wild and unsocial at first, but by dint of care
and discipline I succeeded in rendering it familiar. The principal agent
I employed towards effecting its domestication was a singular one, and
which, though I can assure the reader its effects are speedy and certain,
still remains to me inexplicable: this was, ducking in cold water; and by
resorting to this simple expedient, I have since succeeded in rendering
even the rat as tame and as playful as a kitten. It is out of my power to
explain the manner in which _ducking_ operates on the animal subjected to
it, but I wish that some physiologist more experienced than I am would
give his attention to the subject, and favour the public with the result
of his reflections.

At the time that I obtained possession of this mouse, I was residing at
Olney, in Buckinghamshire, a village which I presume my readers will
recollect as connected with the names of Newton and Cowper; but shortly
after having succeeded in rendering it pretty tame, circumstances
required my removal to Gloucester, whither I carried my little favourite
with me. During the journey I kept the mouse confined in a small wire
cage; but while resting at the inn where I passed the night, I adopted
the precaution of enveloping the cage in a handkerchief, lest by some
untoward circumstance its active little inmate might make its escape.
Having thus, as I thought, made all safe, I retired to rest. The moment
I awoke in the morning, I sprang from my bed, and went to examine the
cage, when, to my infinite consternation, I found it empty! I searched
the bed, the room, raised the carpet, examined every nook and corner, but
all to no purpose. I dressed myself as hastily as I could, and summoning
one of the waiters, an intelligent, good-natured man, I informed
him of my loss, and got him to search every room in the house. His
investigations, however, proved equally unavailing, and I gave my poor
little pet completely up, inwardly hoping, despite of its ingratitude
in leaving me, that it might meet with some agreeable mate amongst its
brown congeners, and might lead a long and happy life, unchequered by
the terrors of the prowling cat, and unendangered by the more insidious
artifices of the fatal trap. With these reflections I was just getting
into the coach which was to convey me upon my road, when a waiter came
running to the door, out of breath, exclaiming, “Mr R., Mr R., I declare
your little mouse is in the kitchen.” Begging the coachman to wait an
instant, I followed the man to the kitchen, and there, on the hob,
seated contentedly in a pudding dish, and devouring its contents with
considerable _gout_, was my truant protegé. Once more secured within
its cage, and the latter carefully enveloped in a sheet of strong brown
paper, upon my knee, I reached Gloucester.

I was here soon subjected to a similar alarm, for one morning the cage
was again empty, and my efforts to discover the retreat of the wanderer
unavailing as before. This time I had lost him for a week, when one
night, in getting into bed, I heard a scrambling in the curtains, and on
relighting my candle found the noise to have been occasioned by my mouse,
who seemed equally pleased with myself at our reunion. After having thus
lost and found my little friend a number of times, I gave up the idea
of confining him; and, accordingly, leaving the door of his cage open,
I placed it in a corner of my bedroom, and allowed him to go in and out
as he pleased. Of this permission he gladly availed himself, but would
regularly return to me at intervals of a week or a fortnight, and at such
periods of return he was usually much thinner than ordinary; and it was
pretty clear that during his visits to his brown acquaintances he fared
by no means so well as he did at home.

Sometimes, when he happened to return, as he often did, in the
night-time, on which occasions his general custom was to come into bed to
me, I used, in order to induce him to remain with me until morning, to
immerse him in a basin of water, and then let him lie in my bosom, the
warmth of which, after his cold bath, commonly ensured his stay.

Frequently, while absent on one of his excursions, I would hear an
unusual noise in the wainscot, as I lay in bed, of dozens of mice
running backwards and forwards in all directions, and squeaking in much
apparent glee. For some time I was puzzled to know whether this unusual
disturbance was the result of merriment or quarrelling, and I often
trembled for the safety of my pet, alone and unaided, among so many
strangers. But a very interesting circumstance occurred one morning,
which perfectly reassured me. It was a bright summer morning, about four
o’clock, and I was lying awake, reflecting as to the propriety of turning
on my pillow to take another sleep, or at once rising, and going forth to
enjoy the beauties of awakening nature. While thus meditating, I heard a
slight scratching in the wainscot, and looking towards the spot whence
the noise proceeded, perceived the head of a mouse peering from a hole.
It was instantly withdrawn, but a second was thrust forth. This latter I
at once recognised as my own white friend, but so begrimed by soot and
dirt that it required an experienced eye to distinguish him from his
darker-coated entertainers. He emerged from the hole, and running over
to his cage, entered it, and remained for a couple of seconds within
it; he then returned to the wainscot, and, re-entering the hole, some
scrambling and squeaking took place. A second time he came forth, and on
this occasion was followed closely, to my no small astonishment, by a
brown mouse, who followed him, with much apparent timidity and caution,
to his box, and entered it along with him. More astonished at this
singular proceeding than I can well express, I lay fixed in mute and
breathless attention, to see what would follow next. In about a minute
the two mice came forth from the cage, each bearing in its mouth a large
piece of bread, which they dragged towards the hole they had previously
left. On arriving at it, they entered, but speedily re-appeared, having
deposited their burden; and repairing once more to the cage, again loaded
themselves with provision, and conveyed it away. This second time they
remained within the hole for a much longer period than the first time;
and when they again made their appearance, they were attended by three
other mice, who, following their leaders to the cage, loaded themselves
with bread as did they, and carried away their burdens to the hole. After
this I saw them no more that morning, and on rising I discovered that
they had carried away every particle of food that the cage contained. Nor
was this an isolated instance of their white guest leading them forth to
where he knew they should find provender. Day after day, whatever bread
or grain I left in the cage was regularly removed, and the duration of my
pet’s absence was proportionately long. Wishing to learn whether hunger
was the actual cause of his return, I no longer left food in his box; and
in about a week afterwards, on awaking one morning, I found him sleeping
upon the pillow, close to my face, having partly wormed his way under my
cheek.

There was a cat in the house, an excellent mouser, and I dreaded lest she
should one day meet with and destroy my poor mouse, and I accordingly
used all my exertions with those in whose power it was, to obtain her
dismissal. She was, however, regarded by those persons as infinitely
better entitled to protection and patronage than a mouse, so I was
compelled to put up with her presence. People are fond of imputing to
cats a supernatural degree of sagacity: they will sometimes go so far
as to pronounce them to be genuine _witches_; and really I am scarcely
surprised at it, nor perhaps will the reader be, when I tell him the
following anecdote.

I was one day entering my apartment, when I was filled with horror at
perceiving my mouse picking up some crumbs upon the carpet, beneath
the table, and the terrible cat seated upon a chair watching him with
what appeared to me to be an expression of sensual anticipation and
concentrated desire. Before I had time to interfere, Puss sprang from
her chair, and bounded towards the mouse, who, however, far from being
terrified at the approach of his natural enemy, scarcely so much as
favoured her with a single look. Puss raised her paw and dealt him a
gentle tap, when, judge of my astonishment if you can, the little mouse,
far from running away, or betraying any marks of fear, raised himself
on his legs, cocked his tail, and with a shrill and angry squeak, with
which any that have kept tame mice are well acquainted, sprang at and
positively _bit_ the paw which had struck him. I was paralysed. I could
not jump forward to the rescue. I was, as it were, petrified where I
stood. But, stranger than all, the cat, instead of appearing irritated,
or seeming to design mischief, merely stretched out her nose and smelt
at her diminutive assailant, and then resuming her place upon the chair,
purred herself to sleep. I need not say that I immediately secured the
mouse within his cage. Whether the cat on this occasion knew the little
animal to be a pet, and as such feared to meddle with it, or whether its
boldness had disarmed her, I cannot pretend to explain: I merely state
the fact; and I think the reader will allow that it is sufficiently
extraordinary.

In order to guard against such a dangerous encounter for the future,
I got a more secure cage made, of which the bars were so close as to
preclude the possibility of egress; and singularly enough, many a morning
was I amused by beholding brown mice coming from their holes in the
wainscot, and approaching the cage in which their friend was kept, as if
in order to condole with him on the subject of his unwonted captivity.
Secure, however, as I conceived this new cage to be, my industrious pet
contrived to make his escape from it, and in doing so met his death. In
my room was a large bureau, with deep, old-fashioned, capacious drawers.
Being obliged to go from home for a day, I put the cage containing my
little friend into one of these drawers, lest any one should attempt to
meddle with it during my absence. On returning, I opened the drawer,
and just as I did so, heard a faint squeak, and at the same instant my
poor little pet fell from the back of the drawer--lifeless. I took up
his body, and, placing it in my bosom, did my best to restore it to
animation. Alas! it was to no purpose. His little body had been crushed
in the crevice at the back part of the drawer, through which he had been
endeavouring to escape, and he was really and irrecoverably gone.

       *       *       *       *       *

NOTE ON THE FEEDING, &C., OF WHITE MICE.--Such of my juvenile readers
as may be disposed to make a pet of one of these interesting little
animals, would do well to observe the following rules:--Clean the cage
out daily, and keep it dry; do not keep it in too cold a place; in
winter it should be kept in a room in which there is a fire. Feed the
mice on bread steeped in milk, having first squeezed the milk out, as
too moist food is bad for them. Never give them cheese, as it is apt to
produce fatal disorders, though the more hardy brown mice eat it with
impunity. If you want to give them a treat, give them grains of wheat
or barley, or if these are not to be procured, oats or rice. A little
tin box of water should be constantly left in their cage, but securely
fixed, so that they cannot overturn it. Let the wires be not too slight,
or too long, otherwise the little animals will easily squeeze themselves
between them, and let them be of iron, never of copper, as the animals
are fond of nibbling at them, and the rust of the latter, or _verdigris_,
would quickly poison them. White mice are to be procured at most of the
bird-shops in Patrick’s Close, Dublin; of the wire-workers and bird-cage
makers in Edinburgh; and from all the animal fanciers in London,
whose residences are to be found chiefly on the New Road and about
Knightsbridge. Their prices vary from one shilling to two-and-sixpence
per pair, according to their age and beauty.

                                                                 H. D. R.




THE PROFESSIONS.


If what are called the liberal professions could speak, they would
all utter the one cry, “we are overstocked;” and echo would reply
“overstocked.” This has long been a subject of complaint, and yet nobody
seems inclined to mend the matter by making any sacrifice on his own
part--just as in a crowd, to use a familiar illustration, the man who is
loudest in exclaiming “dear me, what pressing and jostling people do keep
here!” never thinks of lightening the pressure by withdrawing his own
person from the mass. There is, however, an advantage to be derived from
the utterance and reiteration of the complaint, if not by those already
in the press, at least by those who are still happily clear of it.

There are many “vanities and vexations of spirit” under the sun, but this
evil of professional redundancy seems to be one of very great magnitude.
It involves not merely an outlay of much precious time and substance to
no purpose, but in most cases unfits those who constitute the “excess”
from applying themselves afterwards to other pursuits. Such persons are
the primary sufferers; but the community at large participates in the
loss.

It cannot but be interesting to inquire to what this tendency may be
owing, and what remedy it might be useful to apply to the evil. Now, it
strikes me that the great cause is the exclusive attention which people
pay to the great prizes, and their total inconsideration of the number of
blanks which accompany them. Life itself has been compared to a lottery;
but in some departments the scheme may be so particularly bad, that it is
nothing short of absolute gambling to purchase a share in it. So it is in
the professions. A few arrive at great eminence, and these few excite the
envy and admiration of all beholders; but they are only a few compared
with the number of those who linger in the shade, and, however anxious to
enjoy the sport, never once get a rap at the ball.

Again, parents are apt to look upon the mere name of a profession as a
provision for their children. They calculate all the expenses of general
education, professional education, and then of admission to “liberty to
practise;” and finding all these items amount to a tolerably large sum,
they conceive they have bestowed an ample portion on the son who has cost
them “thus much monies.” But unfortunately they soon learn by experience
that the elevation of a profession, great as it is, does not always
possess that homely recommendation of causing the “pot to boil,” and that
the individual for whom this costly provision has been made, cannot be so
soon left to shift for himself. Here then is another cause of this evil,
namely, that people do not adequately and fairly calculate the whole cost.

Of our liberal professions, the army is the only one that yields a
certain income as the produce of the purchase money, But in these “piping
times of peace,” a private soldier in the ranks might as well attempt to
verify the old song, and

    “Spend half a crown out of sixpence a-day,”

as an ensign to pay mess-money and band-money, and all other regulation
monies, keep himself in dress coat and epaulettes, and all the other et
ceteras, upon his mere pay. The thing cannot be done. To live in any
comfort in the army, a subaltern should have an income from some other
source, equal at least in amount to that which he receives through the
hands of the paymaster. The army is, in fact, an expensive profession,
and of all others the least agreeable to one who is prevented, by
circumscribed means, from doing as his brother officers do. Yet the
mistake of venturing to meet all these difficulties is not unfrequently
admitted, with what vain expectation it is needless to inquire. The usual
result is such as one would anticipate, namely, that the rash adventurer,
after incurring debts, or putting his friends to unlooked-for charges, is
obliged after a short time to sell out, and bid farewell for ever to the
unprofitable profession of arms.

It would be painful to dwell upon the situation of those who enter other
professions without being duly prepared to wait their turn of employment.
It is recognised as a poignantly applicable truth in the profession of
the bar, that “many are called but few are chosen;” but with very few and
rare exceptions indeed, the necessity of _biding_ the time is certain.
In the legal and medical professions there is no fixed income, however
small, insured to the adventurer; and unless his circle of friends and
connections be very wide and serviceable indeed, he should make up his
mind for a procrastinated return and a late harvest. But how many from
day to day, and from year to year, do launch their bark upon the ocean,
without any such prudent foresight! The result therefore is, that vast
proportion of disastrous voyages and shipwrecks of which we hear so
constantly.

Such is the admitted evil--it is granted on all sides. The question
is, what is to be done?--what is the remedy? Now, the remedy for an
overstocked profession very evidently is, that people should forbear to
enter it. I am no Malthusian on the subject of population: I desire no
unnatural checks upon the increase and multiplication of her Majesty’s
subjects; but I should like to drain off a surplus from certain
situations, and turn off the in-flowing stream into more profitable
channels. I would advise parents, then, to leave the choice of a liberal
profession to those who are able to live without one. Such parties can
afford to wait for advancement, however long it may be in coming, or to
bear up against disappointment, if such should be their lot. With such
it is a safe speculation, and they may be left to indulge in it, if they
think proper. With others it is not so. But it will be asked, what is to
be done with the multitudes who would be diverted from the professions,
if this advice were acted upon? I answer, that the money unprofitably
spent upon their education, and in fees of admission to these expensive
pursuits, would insure them a “good location” and a certain provision
for life in Canada, or some of the colonies; and that any honourable
occupation which would yield a competency ought to be preferred to
“professions” which, however “liberal,” hold out to the many but a very
doubtful prospect of that result.

It is much to be regretted that there is a prevalent notion among
certain of my countrymen that “trade” is not a “genteel” thing, and
that it must be eschewed by those who have any pretensions to fashion.
This unfortunate, and I must say unsound state of opinion, contributes
also, I fear, in no small degree, to that professional redundancy of
which we have been speaking. The supposed absolute necessity of a high
classical education is a natural concomitant of this opinion. All our
schools therefore are eminently classical. The University follows, as a
matter of course, and then the University leads to a liberal profession,
as surely as one step of a ladder conducts to another. Thus the evil is
nourished at the very root. Now, I would take the liberty of advising
those parents who may concur with me in the main point of over-supply in
the professions, to begin at the beginning, and in the education of their
children, to exchange this superabundance of Greek and Latin for the less
elegant but more useful accomplishment of “ciphering.” I am disposed to
concur with that facetious but shrewd fellow, Mr Samuel Slick, upon the
inestimable advantages of that too much neglected art--neglected, I mean,
in our country here, Ireland. He has demonstrated that they do every
thing by it in the States, and that without it they could do nothing.
With the most profound respect to my countrymen, then, I would earnestly
recommend them to cultivate it. But it may perhaps be said that there is
no encouragement to mercantile pursuits in Ireland, and that if there
were, there would be no necessity for me to recommend “ciphering” and
its virtues to the people. To this I answer, that merchandize offers
its prizes to the ingenious and venturous much rather than to those who
wait for a “highway” to be made for them. If people were resolved to
live by trade, I think they would contrive to do so--many more, at least,
than at present operate successfully in that department. If more of
education, and more of mind, were turned in that direction, new sources
of profitable industry, at present unthought of, would probably discover
themselves. Much might be said on this subject, but I shall not enter
further into the speculation, quite satisfied if I have thrown out a hint
which may be found capable of improvement by others.

                                                                       F.




GEESE.

BY MARTIN DOYLE.


The rearing of geese might be more an object of attention to our small
farmers and labourers in the vicinity of bogs and mountain tracts than it
is.

The general season for the consumption of fat geese is from Michaelmas to
Christmas, and the high prices paid for them in the English markets--to
which they can be so rapidly conveyed from many parts of Ireland--appear
to offer sufficient temptation to the speculator who has the capital and
accommodation necessary for fattening them.

A well-organized system of feeding this hardy and nutritious species of
poultry, in favourable localities, would give a considerable impulse to
the rearing of them, and consequently promote the comforts of many poor
Irish families, who under existing circumstances do not find it worth
while to rear them except in very small numbers.

I am led to offer a few suggestions on this subject from having
ascertained that in the Fens of Lincolnshire, notwithstanding a great
decrease there in the breeding of geese from extensive drainage, one
individual, Mr Clarke of Boston, fattens every year, between Michaelmas
and Christmas, the prodigious number of seven thousand geese, and that
another dealer at Spalding prepares for the poultry butcher nearly as
many: these they purchase in lots from the farmers’ wives.

Perhaps a few details of the Lincolnshire practice may be acceptable to
some of the readers of this Journal:--

The farmers in the Fens keep breeding stocks proportioned to the extent
of suitable land which they can command; and in order to insure the
fertility of the eggs, they allow one gander to three geese, which is a
higher proportion of males than is deemed necessary elsewhere. The number
of goslings in each brood averages about ten, which, allowing for all
casualties, is a considerable produce.

There have been extraordinary instances of individual fecundity, on
which, however, it would be as absurd for any goose-breeder to calculate,
as it is proverbially unwise to reckon chickens before they are hatched;
and this fruitfulness is only attainable by constant feeding with
stimulating food through the preceding winter.

A goose has been known to lay seventy eggs within twelve months,
twenty-six in the spring, before the time of incubation, and (after
bringing out seventeen goslings) the remainder by the end of the year.

The white variety is preferred to the grey or party-, as the
birds of this colour feed more kindly, and their feathers are worth three
shillings a stone more than the others: the quality of the land, however,
on which the breeding stock is to be maintained, decides this matter,
generally strong land being necessary for the support of the white or
larger kind. Under all circumstances a white gander is preferred, in
order to have a large progeny. It has been remarked, but I know not if
with reason, that ganders are more frequently white than the females.

To state all the particulars of hatching and rearing would be
superfluous, and mere repetition of what is contained in the various
works on poultry. I shall merely state some of the peculiarities of the
practice in the county of Lincoln.

When the young geese are brought up at different periods by the great
dealers, they are put into pens together, according to their age, size,
and condition, and fed on steamed potatoes and ground oats, in the ratio
of one measure of oats to three of potatoes. By unremitting care as to
cleanliness, pure water, and constant feeding, these geese are fattened
in about three weeks, at an average cost of one penny per day each.

The _cramming_ system, either by the fingers or the forcing pump,
described by French writers, with the accompanying barbarities of
blinding, nailing the feet to the floor, or confinement in perforated
casks or earthen pots (as is said to be the case sometimes in Poland),
are happily unknown in Lincolnshire, and I may add throughout England,
with one exception--the nailing of the feet to boards. The unequivocal
proofs of this may occasionally, but very rarely, be seen in the geese
brought into the London markets: these, however, may possibly be imported
ones, though I fear they are not so.

The Lincolnshire dealers do not give any of those rich greasy pellets
of barley meal and hot liquor, which always spoil the flavour, to their
geese, as they well know that oats is the best feeding for them; barley,
besides being more expensive, renders the flesh loose and insipid, and
rather _chickeny_ in flavour.

Every point of economy on this subject is matter of great moment, on the
vast scale pursued by Mr Clarke, who pays seven hundred pounds a-year
for the mere conveyance of his birds to the London market; a fact which
gives a tolerable notion of the great extent of capital employed in this
business, the extent of which is scarcely conceivable by my agricultural
countrymen.

Little cost, however, is incurred by those who breed the geese, as the
stock are left to provide for themselves, except in the laying season,
and in feeding the goslings until they are old enough to eat grass or
feed on the stubbles. I have no doubt, however, that the cramp would be
less frequently experienced, if solid food were added to the grass, when
the geese are turned out to graze, although Mr Clarke attributes the
cramp, as well as gout and fever, to too close confinement alone. This
opinion does not correspond with my far more limited observation, which
leads me to believe that the cramp attacks goslings most frequently when
they are at large, and left to shift for themselves on green food alone,
and that of the poorest kind. I should think it good economy to give
them, and the old stagers too, all spare garden vegetables, for loss of
condition is prejudicial to them as well as to other animals. Mr Cobbett
used to fatten his young geese, from June to October, on Swedish turnips,
carrots, white cabbages, or lettuces, with some corn.

Swedish turnips no doubt will answer very well, but not so well as
farinaceous potatoes, when immediate profit is the object. The experience
of such an extensive dealer as Mr Clarke is worth volumes of theory
and conjecture as to the mode of feeding, and he decides in favour of
potatoes and oats.

The treatment for cramp and fever in Lincolnshire is bleeding--I know not
if it be hazarded in gout--but as it is not successful in the cases of
cramp in one instance out of twenty, it may be pronounced inefficacious.

I have had occasion lately to remark in this Journal on the general
disinclination in England to the barbarous custom of plucking geese
alive. In Lincolnshire, however, they do so with the breeding stock three
times in the year, beginning at midsummer, and repeating the operation
twice afterwards, at intervals of six weeks between the operations.

The practice is defended on the plea, that if the feathers be matured,
the geese are better for it, while it is of course admitted that the
birds must be injured more or less--according to the handling by the
pluckers--if the feathers be not ripe. But as birds do not moult three
times in the year, I do not understand how it should be correctly said
that the feathers _can_ be ripe on these three occasions. How does nature
suggest the propriety of stripping the feathers so often? Where great
numbers are kept, the loss by allowing the feathers to drop on the ground
would be serious, and on this account alone can even one stripping be
justified.

In proof of the general opinion that the goose is extremely long-lived,
we have many recorded facts; among them the following:--“In 1824 there
was a goose living in the possession of Mr Hewson of Glenham, near
Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, which was then upwards of a century old. It
had been throughout that term in the constant possession of Mr Hewson’s
forefathers and himself, and on quitting his farm he would not suffer
it to be sold with his other stock, but made a present of it to the
in-coming tenant, that the venerable fowl might terminate its career on
the spot where its useful life had been spent such a length of days.”

The taste which has long prevailed among gourmands for the liver of a
goose, and has led to the enormous cruelties exercised in order to cause
its enlargement by rendering the bird diseased in that organ through high
and forced feeding in a warm temperature and close confinement, is well
known; but I doubt if many are aware of the influence of _charcoal_ in
producing an unnatural state of the liver.

I had read of charcoal being put into a trough of water to sweeten it for
geese when cooped up; but from a passage in a recent work by Liebig it
would appear that the charcoal acts not as a sweetener of the water, but
in another way on the constitution of the goose.

I am tempted to give the extract from its novelty:--“The production of
flesh and fat may be artificially increased: all domestic animals, for
example, contain much fat. We give food to animals which increases the
activity of certain organs, and is itself capable of being transformed
into fat. We add to the quantity of food, or we lessen the progress
of respiration and perspiration by preventing motion. The conditions
necessary to effect this purpose in birds are different from those in
quadrupeds; and it is well known that charcoal powder produces such an
excessive growth in the liver of a goose as at length causes the death of
the animal.”

We are much inferior to the English in the art of preparing poultry for
the market; and this is the more to be regretted in the instance of
geese, especially as we can supply potatoes--which I have shown to be
the chief material of their fattening food--at half their cost in many
parts of England. This advantage alone ought to render the friends of our
agricultural poor earnest in promoting the rearing and fattening of geese
in localities favourable for the purpose.




IRISH MANUFACTURES.


The encouragement of our native manufactures is now a general topic of
conversation and interest, and we hope the present excitement of the
public mind on this subject will be productive of permanent good. We also
hope that the encouragement proposed to be given to articles of Irish
manufacture will be extended to the productions of the head as well as to
those of the hands; that the manufacturer of Irish wit and humour will be
deemed worthy of support as well as those of silks, woollens, or felts;
and, that Irishmen shall venture to estimate the value of Irish produce
for themselves, without waiting as heretofore till they get “the London
stamp” upon them, as our play-going people of old times used to do in the
case of the eminent Irish actors.

We are indeed greatly inclined to believe that our Irish manufactures
are rising in estimation in England, from the fact which has come to
our knowledge that many thousands of our Belfast hams are sold annually
at the other side of the water as genuine Yorkshire, and also that many
of those Belfast hams with the Yorkshire stamp find their way back into
“Ould Ireland,” and are bought as English by those who would despise
them as Irish. Now, we should like our countrymen not to be gulled in
this way, but depend upon their own judgment in the matter of hams, and
in like manner in the matter of articles of Irish literary manufacture,
without waiting for the London stamp to be put on them. The necessity
for such discrimination and confidence in their own judgment exists
equally in hams and literature. Thus certain English editors approve so
highly of our articles in the Irish Penny Journal, that they copy them
by wholesale, not only without acknowledgment, but actually do us the
favour to father them as their own! As an example of this patronage, we
may refer to a recent number of the Court Gazette, in which its editor
has been entertaining his aristocratic readers with a little piece of
_badinage_ from our Journal, expressly written for us, and entitled “A
short chapter on Bustles,” but which he gives as written for the said
Court Gazette! Now, this is really very considerate and complimentary,
and we of course feel grateful. But, better again, we find our able and
kind friend the editor of the _Monitor_ and _Irishman_, presenting, no
doubt inadvertently, this very article to his Irish readers a few weeks
ago--not even as an Irish article that had got the London stamp upon it,
but as actually one of true British manufacture--the produce of the Court
Gazette.

Now, in perfect good humour, we ask our friend, as such we have reason to
consider him, could he not as well have copied this article from our own
Journal, and given us the credit of it--and would it not be worthy of the
consistency and patriotism of the _Irishman_, who writes so ably in the
cause of Irish manufactures, to extend his support, as far as might be
compatible with truth and honesty, to the native literature of Ireland?

       *       *       *       *       *

    Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
    the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,
    College Green, Dublin.--Sold by all Booksellers.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No.
28, January 9, 1841, by Various

*** 




Produced by David Widger





THE STORY OF POCAHONTAS

By Charles Dudley Warner



The simple story of the life of Pocahontas is sufficiently romantic
without the embellishments which have been wrought on it either by the
vanity of Captain Smith or the natural pride of the descendants of this
dusky princess who have been ennobled by the smallest rivulet of her red
blood.

That she was a child of remarkable intelligence, and that she early
showed a tender regard for the whites and rendered them willing and
unwilling service, is the concurrent evidence of all contemporary
testimony. That as a child she was well-favored, sprightly, and
prepossessing above all her copper-colored companions, we can believe,
and that as a woman her manners were attractive. If the portrait taken
of her in London--the best engraving of which is by Simon de Passe--in
1616, when she is said to have been twenty-one years old, does her
justice, she had marked Indian features.

The first mention of her is in "The True Relation," written by Captain
Smith in Virginia in 1608. In this narrative, as our readers have seen,
she is not referred to until after Smith's return from the captivity
in which Powhatan used him "with all the kindness he could devise." Her
name first appears, toward the close of the relation, in the following
sentence:

"Powhatan understanding we detained certain salvages, sent his daughter,
a child of tenne yeares old, which not only for feature, countenance,
and proportion, much exceedeth any of the rest of his people, but for
wit and spirit the only nonpareil of his country: this hee sent by his
most trusty messenger, called Rawhunt, as much exceeding in deformitie
of person, but of a subtill wit and crafty understanding, he with a long
circumstance told mee how well Powhatan loved and respected mee, and in
that I should not doubt any way of his kindness, he had sent his child,
which he most esteemed, to see mee, a Deere, and bread, besides for
a present: desiring mee that the Boy [Thomas Savage, the boy given by
Newport to Powhatan] might come again, which he loved exceedingly, his
little Daughter he had taught this lesson also: not taking notice at all
of the Indians that had been prisoners three daies, till that morning
that she saw their fathers and friends come quietly, and in good termes
to entreate their libertie.

"In the afternoon they [the friends of the prisoners] being gone, we
guarded them [the prisoners] as before to the church, and after prayer,
gave them to Pocahuntas the King's Daughter, in regard of her father's
kindness in sending her: after having well fed them, as all the time of
their imprisonment, we gave them their bows, arrowes, or what else
they had, and with much content, sent them packing: Pocahuntas, also we
requited with such trifles as contented her, to tel that we had used the
Paspaheyans very kindly in so releasing them."

The next allusion to her is in the fourth chapter of the narratives
which are appended to the "Map of Virginia," etc. This was sent home by
Smith, with a description of Virginia, in the late autumn of 1608. It
was published at Oxford in 1612, from two to three years after Smith's
return to England. The appendix contains the narratives of several of
Smith's companions in Virginia, edited by Dr. Symonds and overlooked
by Smith. In one of these is a brief reference to the above-quoted
incident.

This Oxford tract, it is scarcely necessary to repeat, contains no
reference to the saving of Smith's life by Pocahontas from the clubs of
Powhatan.

The next published mention of Pocahontas, in point of time, is in
Chapter X. and the last of the appendix to the "Map of Virginia," and is
Smith's denial, already quoted, of his intention to marry Pocahontas.
In this passage he speaks of her as "at most not past 13 or 14 years of
age." If she was thirteen or fourteen in 1609, when Smith left Virginia,
she must have been more than ten when he wrote his "True Relation,"
composed in the winter of 1608, which in all probability was carried to
England by Captain Nelson, who left Jamestown June 2d.

The next contemporary authority to be consulted in regard to Pocahontas
is William Strachey, who, as we have seen, went with the expedition of
Gates and Somers, was shipwrecked on the Bermudas, and reached Jamestown
May 23 or 24, 1610, and was made Secretary and Recorder of the colony
under Lord Delaware. Of the origin and life of Strachey, who was a
person of importance in Virginia, little is known. The better impression
is that he was the William Strachey of Saffron Walden, who was married
in 1588 and was living in 1620, and that it was his grandson of the same
name who was subsequently connected with the Virginia colony. He was,
judged by his writings, a man of considerable education, a good deal of
a pedant, and shared the credulity and fondness for embellishment of the
writers of his time. His connection with Lord Delaware, and his part
in framing the code of laws in Virginia, which may be inferred from
the fact that he first published them, show that he was a trusted and
capable man.

William Strachey left behind him a manuscript entitled "The Historie of
Travaile into Virginia Britanica, &c., gathered and observed as well by
those who went first thither, as collected by William Strachey, gent.,
three years thither, employed as Secretaire of State." How long he
remained in Virginia is uncertain, but it could not have been "three
years," though he may have been continued Secretary for that period, for
he was in London in 1612, in which year he published there the laws of
Virginia which had been established by Sir Thomas Gates May 24, 1610,
approved by Lord Delaware June 10, 1610, and enlarged by Sir Thomas Dale
June 22, 1611.

The "Travaile" was first published by the Hakluyt Society in 1849. When
and where it was written, and whether it was all composed at one time,
are matters much in dispute. The first book, descriptive of Virginia and
its people, is complete; the second book, a narration of discoveries in
America, is unfinished. Only the first book concerns us. That Strachey
made notes in Virginia may be assumed, but the book was no doubt written
after his return to England.


[This code of laws, with its penalty of whipping and death for what are
held now to be venial offenses, gives it a high place among the Black
Codes. One clause will suffice:

"Every man and woman duly twice a day upon the first towling of the Bell
shall upon the working daies repaire unto the church, to hear divine
service upon pain of losing his or her allowance for the first omission,
for the second to be whipt, and for the third to be condemned to the
Gallies for six months. Likewise no man or woman shall dare to violate
the Sabbath by any gaming, publique or private, abroad or at home, but
duly sanctifie and observe the same, both himselfe and his familie, by
preparing themselves at home with private prayer, that they may be the
better fitted for the publique, according to the commandments of God,
and the orders of our church, as also every man and woman shall repaire
in the morning to the divine service, and sermons preached upon the
Sabbath day, and in the afternoon to divine service, and Catechism upon
paine for the first fault to lose their provision, and allowance for the
whole week following, for the second to lose the said allowance and also
to be whipt, and for the third to suffer death."]


Was it written before or after the publication of Smith's "Map and
Description" at Oxford in 1612? The question is important, because
Smith's "Description" and Strachey's "Travaile" are page after page
literally the same. One was taken from the other. Commonly at that time
manuscripts seem to have been passed around and much read before they
were published. Purchas acknowledges that he had unpublished manuscripts
of Smith when he compiled his narrative. Did Smith see Strachey's
manuscript before he published his Oxford tract, or did Strachey enlarge
his own notes from Smith's description? It has been usually assumed
that Strachey cribbed from Smith without acknowledgment. If it were a
question to be settled by the internal evidence of the two accounts,
I should incline to think that Smith condensed his description from
Strachey, but the dates incline the balance in Smith's favor.

Strachey in his "Travaile" refers sometimes to Smith, and always with
respect. It will be noted that Smith's "Map" was engraved and published
before the "Description" in the Oxford tract. Purchas had it, for he
says, in writing of Virginia for his "Pilgrimage" (which was published
in 1613):

"Concerning-the latter [Virginia], Capt. John Smith, partly by word
of mouth, partly by his mappe thereof in print, and more fully by a
Manuscript which he courteously communicated to mee, hath acquainted
me with that whereof himselfe with great perill and paine, had been
the discoverer." Strachey in his "Travaile" alludes to it, and pays a
tribute to Smith in the following: "Their severall habitations are more
plainly described by the annexed mappe, set forth by Capt. Smith, of
whose paines taken herein I leave to the censure of the reader to judge.
Sure I am there will not return from thence in hast, any one who hath
been more industrious, or who hath had (Capt. Geo. Percie excepted)
greater experience amongst them, however misconstruction may traduce
here at home, where is not easily seen the mixed sufferances, both of
body and mynd, which is there daylie, and with no few hazards and hearty
griefes undergon."

There are two copies of the Strachey manuscript. The one used by the
Hakluyt Society is dedicated to Sir Francis Bacon, with the title of
"Lord High Chancellor," and Bacon had not that title conferred on him
till after 1618. But the copy among the Ashmolean manuscripts at Oxford
is dedicated to Sir Allen Apsley, with the title of "Purveyor to His
Majestie's Navie Royall"; and as Sir Allen was made "Lieutenant of
the Tower" in 1616, it is believed that the manuscript must have been
written before that date, since the author would not have omitted the
more important of the two titles in his dedication.

Strachey's prefatory letter to the Council, prefixed to his "Laws"
(1612), is dated "From my lodging in the Black Friars. At your best
pleasures, either to return unto the colony, or pray for the success of
it heere." In his letter he speaks of his experience in the Bermudas and
Virginia: "The full storie of both in due time [I] shall consecrate unto
your view.... Howbit since many impediments, as yet must detaine such
my observations in the shadow of darknesse, untill I shall be able to
deliver them perfect unto your judgments," etc.

This is not, as has been assumed, a statement that the observations were
not written then, only that they were not "perfect"; in fact, they
were detained in the "shadow of darknesse" till the year 1849. Our
own inference is, from all the circumstances, that Strachey began his
manuscript in Virginia or shortly after his return, and added to it and
corrected it from time to time up to 1616.

We are now in a position to consider Strachey's allusions to Pocahontas.
The first occurs in his description of the apparel of Indian women:

"The better sort of women cover themselves (for the most part) all over
with skin mantells, finely drest, shagged and fringed at the skyrt,
carved and coloured with some pretty work, or the proportion of beasts,
fowle, tortayses, or other such like imagry, as shall best please or
expresse the fancy of the wearer; their younger women goe not shadowed
amongst their owne companie, until they be nigh eleaven or twelve
returnes of the leafe old (for soe they accompt and bring about the
yeare, calling the fall of the leaf tagnitock); nor are thev much
ashamed thereof, and therefore would the before remembered Pocahontas,
a well featured, but wanton yong girle, Powhatan's daughter, sometymes
resorting to our fort, of the age then of eleven or twelve yeares, get
the boyes forth with her into the markett place, and make them wheele,
falling on their hands, turning up their heeles upwards, whome she would
followe and wheele so herself, naked as she was, all the fort over;
but being once twelve yeares, they put on a kind of semecinctum lethern
apron (as do our artificers or handycrafts men) before their bellies,
and are very shamefac't to be seene bare. We have seene some use
mantells made both of Turkey feathers, and other fowle, so prettily
wrought and woven with threeds, that nothing could be discerned but the
feathers, which were exceedingly warme and very handsome."

Strachey did not see Pocahontas. She did not resort to the camp after
the departure of Smith in September, 1609, until she was kidnapped by
Governor Dale in April, 1613. He repeats what he heard of her. The
time mentioned by him of her resorting to the fort, "of the age then of
eleven or twelve yeares," must have been the time referred to by Smith
when he might have married her, namely, in 1608-9, when he calls her
"not past 13 or 14 years of age." The description of her as a "yong
girle" tumbling about the fort, "naked as she was," would seem to
preclude the idea that she was married at that time.

The use of the word "wanton" is not necessarily disparaging, for
"wanton" in that age was frequently synonymous with "playful" and
"sportive"; but it is singular that she should be spoken of as "well
featured, but wanton." Strachey, however, gives in another place what is
no doubt the real significance of the Indian name "Pocahontas." He says:

"Both men, women, and children have their severall names; at first
according to the severall humor of their parents; and for the men
children, at first, when they are young, their mothers give them a name,
calling them by some affectionate title, or perhaps observing their
promising inclination give it accordingly; and so the great King
Powhatan called a young daughter of his, whom he loved well, Pocahontas,
which may signify a little wanton; howbeyt she was rightly called
Amonata at more ripe years."

The Indian girls married very young. The polygamous Powhatan had a large
number of wives, but of all his women, his favorites were a dozen "for
the most part very young women," the names of whom Strachey obtained
from one Kemps, an Indian a good deal about camp, whom Smith certifies
was a great villain. Strachey gives a list of the names of twelve of
them, at the head of which is Winganuske. This list was no doubt written
down by the author in Virginia, and it is followed by a sentence,
quoted below, giving also the number of Powhatan's children. The
"great darling" in this list was Winganuske, a sister of Machumps,
who, according to Smith, murdered his comrade in the Bermudas. Strachey
writes:

"He [Powhatan] was reported by the said Kemps, as also by the Indian
Machumps, who was sometyme in England, and comes to and fro amongst us
as he dares, and as Powhatan gives him leave, for it is not otherwise
safe for him, no more than it was for one Amarice, who had his braynes
knockt out for selling but a baskett of corne, and lying in the English
fort two or three days without Powhatan's leave; I say they often
reported unto us that Powhatan had then lyving twenty sonnes and ten
daughters, besyde a young one by Winganuske, Machumps his sister, and a
great darling of the King's; and besides, younge Pocohunta, a daughter
of his, using sometyme to our fort in tymes past, nowe married to a
private Captaine, called Kocoum, some two years since."

This passage is a great puzzle. Does Strachey intend to say that
Pocahontas was married to an Iniaan named Kocoum? She might have been
during the time after Smith's departure in 1609, and her kidnapping
in 1613, when she was of marriageable age. We shall see hereafter that
Powhatan, in 1614, said he had sold another favorite daughter of his,
whom Sir Thomas Dale desired, and who was not twelve years of age, to
be wife to a great chief. The term "private Captain" might perhaps be
applied to an Indian chief. Smith, in his "General Historie," says
the Indians have "but few occasions to use any officers more than one
commander, which commonly they call Werowance, or Caucorouse, which is
Captaine." It is probably not possible, with the best intentions, to
twist Kocoum into Caucorouse, or to suppose that Strachey intended to
say that a private captain was called in Indian a Kocoum. Werowance
and Caucorouse are not synonymous terms. Werowance means "chief," and
Caucorouse means "talker" or "orator," and is the original of our word
"caucus."

Either Strachey was uninformed, or Pocahontas was married to an
Indian--a not violent presumption considering her age and the fact
that war between Powhatan and the whites for some time had cut off
intercourse between them--or Strachey referred to her marriage with
Rolfe, whom he calls by mistake Kocoum. If this is to be accepted,
then this paragraph must have been written in England in 1616, and have
referred to the marriage to Rolfe it "some two years since," in 1614.

That Pocahontas was a gentle-hearted and pleasing girl, and, through her
acquaintance with Smith, friendly to the whites, there is no doubt; that
she was not different in her habits and mode of life from other Indian
girls, before the time of her kidnapping, there is every reason to
suppose. It was the English who magnified the imperialism of her father,
and exaggerated her own station as Princess. She certainly put on no
airs of royalty when she was "cart-wheeling" about the fort. Nor
does this detract anything from the native dignity of the mature, and
converted, and partially civilized woman.

We should expect there would be the discrepancies which have been
noticed in the estimates of her age. Powhatan is not said to have kept
a private secretary to register births in his family. If Pocahontas gave
her age correctly, as it appears upon her London portrait in 1616,
aged twenty-one, she must have been eighteen years of age when she was
captured in 1613 This would make her about twelve at the time of Smith's
captivity in 1607-8. There is certainly room for difference of opinion
as to whether so precocious a woman, as her intelligent apprehension of
affairs shows her to have been, should have remained unmarried till the
age of eighteen. In marrying at least as early as that she would have
followed the custom of her tribe. It is possible that her intercourse
with the whites had raised her above such an alliance as would be
offered her at the court of Werowocomoco.

We are without any record of the life of Pocahontas for some years.
The occasional mentions of her name in the "General Historie" are so
evidently interpolated at a late date, that they do not aid us. When
and where she took the name of Matoaka, which appears upon her London
portrait, we are not told, nor when she was called Amonata, as Strachey
says she was "at more ripe yeares." How she was occupied from the
departure of Smith to her abduction, we can only guess. To follow her
authentic history we must take up the account of Captain Argall and of
Ralph Hamor, Jr., secretary of the colony under Governor Dale.

Captain Argall, who seems to have been as bold as he was unscrupulous
in the execution of any plan intrusted to him, arrived in Virginia
in September, 1612, and early in the spring of 1613 he was sent on an
expedition up the Patowomek to trade for corn and to effect a capture
that would bring Powhatan to terms. The Emperor, from being a friend,
had become the most implacable enemy of the English. Captain Argall
says: "I was told by certain Indians, my friends, that the great
Powhatan's daughter Pokahuntis was with the great King Potowomek,
whither I presently repaired, resolved to possess myself of her by any
stratagem that I could use, for the ransoming of so many Englishmen as
were prisoners with Powhatan, as also to get such armes and tooles as
he and other Indians had got by murther and stealing some others of our
nation, with some quantity of corn for the colonies relief."

By the aid of Japazeus, King of Pasptancy, an old acquaintance and
friend of Argall's, and the connivance of the King of Potowomek,
Pocahontas was enticed on board Argall's ship and secured. Word was sent
to Powhatan of the capture and the terms on which his daughter would be
released; namely, the return of the white men he held in slavery, the
tools and arms he had gotten and stolen, and a great quantity of corn.
Powhatan, "much grieved," replied that if Argall would use his daughter
well, and bring the ship into his river and release her, he would accede
to all his demands. Therefore, on the 13th of April, Argall repaired to
Governor Gates at Jamestown, and delivered his prisoner, and a few days
after the King sent home some of the white captives, three pieces, one
broad-axe, a long whip-saw, and a canoe of corn. Pocahontas, however,
was kept at Jamestown.

Why Pocahontas had left Werowocomoco and gone to stay with Patowomek
we can only conjecture. It is possible that Powhatan suspected her
friendliness to the whites, and was weary of her importunity, and it may
be that she wanted to escape the sight of continual fighting, ambushes,
and murders. More likely she was only making a common friendly visit,
though Hamor says she went to trade at an Indian fair.

The story of her capture is enlarged and more minutely related by Ralph
Hamor, Jr., who was one of the colony shipwrecked on the Bermudas in
1609, and returned to England in 1614, where he published (London, 1615)
"A True Discourse of Virginia, and the Success of the Affairs there
till the 18th of June, 1614." Hamor was the son of a merchant tailor in
London who was a member of the Virginia company. Hamor writes:

"It chanced Powhatan's delight and darling, his daughter Pocahuntas
(whose fame has even been spread in England by the title of Nonparella
of Firginia) in her princely progresse if I may so terme it, tooke some
pleasure (in the absence of Captaine Argall) to be among her friends at
Pataomecke (as it seemeth by the relation I had), implored thither as
shopkeeper to a Fare, to exchange some of her father's commodities for
theirs, where residing some three months or longer, it fortuned upon
occasion either of promise or profit, Captaine Argall to arrive there,
whom Pocahuntas, desirous to renew her familiaritie with the English,
and delighting to see them as unknown, fearefull perhaps to be
surprised, would gladly visit as she did, of whom no sooner had Captaine
Argall intelligence, but he delt with an old friend Iapazeus, how and
by what meanes he might procure her caption, assuring him that now or
never, was the time to pleasure him, if he intended indeede that love
which he had made profession of, that in ransome of hir he might redeeme
some of our English men and armes, now in the possession of her father,
promising to use her withall faire and gentle entreaty; Iapazeus well
assured that his brother, as he promised, would use her courteously,
promised his best endeavors and service to accomplish his desire, and
thus wrought it, making his wife an instrument (which sex have ever been
most powerful in beguiling inticements) to effect his plot which hee
had thus laid, he agreed that himself, his wife and Pocahuntas, would
accompanie his brother to the water side, whither come, his wife should
faine a great and longing desire to goe aboorde, and see the shippe,
which being there three or four times before she had never seene, and
should be earnest with her husband to permit her--he seemed angry with
her, making as he pretended so unnecessary request, especially being
without the company of women, which denial she taking unkindly,
must faine to weepe (as who knows not that women can command teares)
whereupon her husband seeming to pitty those counterfeit teares, gave
her leave to goe aboord, so that it would pleese Pocahuntas to accompany
her; now was the greatest labour to win her, guilty perhaps of her
father's wrongs, though not knowne as she supposed, to goe with her, yet
by her earnest persuasions, she assented: so forthwith aboord they went,
the best cheere that could be made was seasonably provided, to supper
they went, merry on all hands, especially Iapazeus and his wife, who to
expres their joy would ere be treading upon Captaine Argall's foot, as
who should say tis don, she is your own. Supper ended Pocahuntas was
lodged in the gunner's roome, but Iapazeus and his wife desired to have
some conference with their brother, which was onely to acquaint him by
what stratagem they had betraied his prisoner as I have already
related: after which discourse to sleepe they went, Pocahuntas nothing
mistrusting this policy, who nevertheless being most possessed with
feere, and desire of returne, was first up, and hastened Iapazeus to be
gon. Capt. Argall having secretly well rewarded him, with a small Copper
kittle, and some other les valuable toies so highly by him esteemed,
that doubtlesse he would have betraied his own father for them,
permitted both him and his wife to returne, but told him that for divers
considerations, as for that his father had then eigh [8] of our Englishe
men, many swords, peeces, and other tooles, which he hid at severall
times by trecherous murdering our men, taken from them which though
of no use to him, he would not redeliver, he would reserve Pocahuntas,
whereat she began to be exceeding pensive, and discontented, yet
ignorant of the dealing of Japazeus who in outward appearance was no les
discontented that he should be the meanes of her captivity, much adoe
there was to pursuade her to be patient, which with extraordinary
curteous usage, by little and little was wrought in her, and so to
Jamestowne she was brought."

Smith, who condenses this account in his "General Historie," expresses
his contempt of this Indian treachery by saying: "The old Jew and his
wife began to howle and crie as fast as Pocahuntas." It will be noted
that the account of the visit (apparently alone) of Pocahontas and her
capture is strong evidence that she was not at this time married to
"Kocoum" or anybody else.

Word was despatched to Powhatan of his daughter's duress, with a
demand made for the restitution of goods; but although this savage is
represented as dearly loving Pocahontas, his "delight and darling," it
was, according to Hamor, three months before they heard anything from
him. His anxiety about his daughter could not have been intense. He
retained a part of his plunder, and a message was sent to him that
Pocahontas would be kept till he restored all the arms.

This answer pleased Powhatan so little that they heard nothing from him
till the following March. Then Sir Thomas Dale and Captain Argall, with
several vessels and one hundred and fifty men, went up to Powhatan's
chief seat, taking his daughter with them, offering the Indians a chance
to fight for her or to take her in peace on surrender of the stolen
goods. The Indians received this with bravado and flights of arrows,
reminding them of the fate of Captain Ratcliffe. The whites landed,
killed some Indians, burnt forty houses, pillaged the village, and went
on up the river and came to anchor in front of Matchcot, the Emperor's
chief town. Here were assembled four hundred armed men, with bows and
arrows, who dared them to come ashore. Ashore they went, and a palaver
was held. The Indians wanted a day to consult their King, after which
they would fight, if nothing but blood would satisfy the whites.

Two of Powhatan's sons who were present expressed a desire to see their
sister, who had been taken on shore. When they had sight of her, and
saw how well she was cared for, they greatly rejoiced and promised to
persuade their father to redeem her and conclude a lasting peace. The
two brothers were taken on board ship, and Master John Rolfe and Master
Sparkes were sent to negotiate with the King. Powhatan did not show
himself, but his brother Apachamo, his successor, promised to use his
best efforts to bring about a peace, and the expedition returned to
Jamestown.

"Long before this time," Hamor relates, "a gentleman of approved
behaviour and honest carriage, Master John Rolfe, had been in love with
Pocahuntas and she with him, which thing at the instant that we were
in parlee with them, myselfe made known to Sir Thomas Dale, by a letter
from him [Rolfe] whereby he entreated his advice and furtherance to his
love, if so it seemed fit to him for the good of the Plantation, and
Pocahuntas herself acquainted her brethren therewith." Governor Dale
approved this, and consequently was willing to retire without other
conditions. "The bruite of this pretended marriage [Hamor continues]
came soon to Powhatan's knowledge, a thing acceptable to him, as
appeared by his sudden consent thereunto, who some ten daies after sent
an old uncle of hirs, named Opachisco, to give her as his deputy in the
church, and two of his sonnes to see the mariage solemnized which was
accordingly done about the fifth of April [1614], and ever since we have
had friendly commerce and trade, not only with Powhatan himself, but
also with his subjects round about us; so as now I see no reason why the
collonie should not thrive a pace."

This marriage was justly celebrated as the means and beginning of a firm
peace which long continued, so that Pocahontas was again entitled to the
grateful remembrance of the Virginia settlers. Already, in 1612, a plan
had been mooted in Virginia of marrying the English with the natives,
and of obtaining the recognition of Powhatan and those allied to him as
members of a fifth kingdom, with certain privileges. Cunega, the Spanish
ambassador at London, on September 22, 1612, writes: "Although some
suppose the plantation to decrease, he is credibly informed that there
is a determination to marry some of the people that go over to Virginia;
forty or fifty are already so married, and English women intermingle and
are received kindly by the natives. A zealous minister hath been wounded
for reprehending it."

Mr. John Rolfe was a man of industry, and apparently devoted to the
welfare of the colony. He probably brought with him in 1610 his wife,
who gave birth to his daughter Bermuda, born on the Somers Islands at
the time of the shipwreck. We find no notice of her death. Hamor gives
him the distinction of being the first in the colony to try, in 1612,
the planting and raising of tobacco. "No man [he adds] hath labored to
his power, by good example there and worthy encouragement into England
by his letters, than he hath done, witness his marriage with Powhatan's
daughter, one of rude education, manners barbarous and cursed
generation, meerely for the good and honor of the plantation: and
least any man should conceive that some sinister respects allured him
hereunto, I have made bold, contrary to his knowledge, in the end of my
treatise to insert the true coppie of his letter written to Sir Thomas
Dale."

The letter is a long, labored, and curious document, and comes nearer to
a theological treatise than any love-letter we have on record. It reeks
with unction. Why Rolfe did not speak to Dale, whom he saw every day,
instead of inflicting upon him this painful document, in which the
flutterings of a too susceptible widower's heart are hidden under a
great resolve of self-sacrifice, is not plain.

The letter protests in a tedious preamble that the writer is moved
entirely by the Spirit of God, and continues:

"Let therefore this my well advised protestation, which here I make
between God and my own conscience, be a sufficient witness, at the
dreadful day of judgment (when the secrets of all men's hearts shall be
opened) to condemne me herein, if my chiefest interest and purpose be
not to strive with all my power of body and mind, in the undertaking
of so weighty a matter, no way led (so far forth as man's weakness may
permit) with the unbridled desire of carnall affection; but for the good
of this plantation, for the honour of our countrie, for the glory of
God, for my owne salvation, and for the converting to the true knowledge
of God and Jesus Christ, an unbelieving creature, namely Pokahuntas.
To whom my heartie and best thoughts are, and have a long time bin so
entangled, and inthralled in so intricate a laborinth, that I was even
awearied to unwinde myself thereout."

Master Rolfe goes on to describe the mighty war in his meditations on
this subject, in which he had set before his eyes the frailty of mankind
and his proneness to evil and wicked thoughts. He is aware of God's
displeasure against the sons of Levi and Israel for marrying strange
wives, and this has caused him to look about warily and with good
circumspection "into the grounds and principall agitations which should
thus provoke me to be in love with one, whose education hath bin rude,
her manners barbarous, her generation accursed, and so discrepant in
all nurtriture from myselfe, that oftentimes with feare and trembling,
I have ended my private controversie with this: surely these are
wicked instigations, fetched by him who seeketh and delighteth in man's
distruction; and so with fervent prayers to be ever preserved from such
diabolical assaults (as I looke those to be) I have taken some rest."

The good man was desperately in love and wanted to marry the Indian, and
consequently he got no peace; and still being tormented with her image,
whether she was absent or present, he set out to produce an ingenious
reason (to show the world) for marrying her. He continues:

"Thus when I thought I had obtained my peace and quietnesse, beholde
another, but more gracious tentation hath made breaches into my holiest
and strongest meditations; with which I have been put to a new triall,
in a straighter manner than the former; for besides the weary passions
and sufferings which I have dailey, hourely, yea and in my sleepe
indured, even awaking me to astonishment, taxing me with remissnesse,
and carelessnesse, refusing and neglecting to perform the duteie of a
good Christian, pulling me by the eare, and crying: Why dost thou not
indeavor to make her a Christian? And these have happened to my greater
wonder, even when she hath been furthest seperated from me, which
in common reason (were it not an undoubted work of God) might breede
forgetfulnesse of a far more worthie creature."

He accurately describes the symptoms and appears to understand the
remedy, but he is after a large-sized motive:

"Besides, I say the holy Spirit of God hath often demanded of me, why I
was created? If not for transitory pleasures and worldly vanities, but
to labour in the Lord's vineyard, there to sow and plant, to nourish and
increase the fruites thereof, daily adding with the good husband in the
gospell, somewhat to the tallent, that in the ends the fruites may be
reaped, to the comfort of the labourer in this life, and his salvation
in the world to come.... Likewise, adding hereunto her great appearance
of love to me, her desire to be taught and instructed in the knowledge
of God, her capablenesse of understanding, her aptness and willingness
to receive anie good impression, and also the spirituall, besides her
owne incitements stirring me up hereunto."

The "incitements" gave him courage, so that he exclaims: "Shall I be of
so untoward a disposition, as to refuse to lead the blind into the right
way? Shall I be so unnatural, as not to give bread to the hungrie, or
uncharitable, as not to cover the naked?"

It wasn't to be thought of, such wickedness; and so Master Rolfe screwed
up his courage to marry the glorious Princess, from whom thousands
of people were afterwards so anxious to be descended. But he made the
sacrifice for the glory of the country, the benefit of the plantation,
and the conversion of the unregenerate, and other and lower motive
he vigorously repels: "Now, if the vulgar sort, who square all men's
actions by the base rule of their own filthinesse, shall tax or taunt
mee in this my godly labour: let them know it is not hungry appetite, to
gorge myselfe with incontinency; sure (if I would and were so sensually
inclined) I might satisfy such desire, though not without a seared
conscience, yet with Christians more pleasing to the eie, and less
fearefull in the offense unlawfully committed. Nor am I in so desperate
an estate, that I regard not what becometh of me; nor am I out of hope
but one day to see my country, nor so void of friends, nor mean in
birth, but there to obtain a mach to my great con'tent.... But shall it
please God thus to dispose of me (which I earnestly desire to fulfill
my ends before set down) I will heartily accept of it as a godly taxe
appointed me, and I will never cease (God assisting me) untill I have
accomplished, and brought to perfection so holy a worke, in which I will
daily pray God to bless me, to mine and her eternal happiness."

It is to be hoped that if sanctimonious John wrote any love-letters to
Amonata they had less cant in them than this. But it was pleasing to Sir
Thomas Dale, who was a man to appreciate the high motives of Mr. Rolfe.
In a letter which he despatched from Jamestown, June 18, 1614, to a
reverend friend in London, he describes the expedition when Pocahontas
was carried up the river, and adds the information that when she went on
shore, "she would not talk to any of them, scarcely to them of the best
sort, and to them only, that if her father had loved her, he would not
value her less than old swords, pieces, or axes; wherefore she would
still dwell with the Englishmen who loved her."

"Powhatan's daughter [the letter continues] I caused to be carefully
instructed in Christian Religion, who after she had made some good
progress therein, renounced publically her countrey idolatry, openly
confessed her Christian faith, was, as she desired, baptized, and is
since married to an English Gentleman of good understanding (as by his
letter unto me, containing the reasons for his marriage of her you may
perceive), an other knot to bind this peace the stronger. Her father
and friends gave approbation to it, and her uncle gave her to him in
the church; she lives civilly and lovingly with him, and I trust will
increase in goodness, as the knowledge of God increaseth in her. She
will goe into England with me, and were it but the gayning of this one
soule, I will think my time, toile, and present stay well spent."

Hamor also appends to his narration a short letter, of the same date
with the above, from the minister Alexander Whittaker, the genuineness
of which is questioned. In speaking of the good deeds of Sir Thomas Dale
it says: "But that which is best, one Pocahuntas or Matoa, the
daughter of Powhatan, is married to an honest and discreet English
Gentleman--Master Rolfe, and that after she had openly renounced her
countrey Idolatry, and confessed the faith of Jesus Christ, and was
baptized, which thing Sir Thomas Dale had laboured a long time to ground
her in." If, as this proclaims, she was married after her conversion,
then Rolfe's tender conscience must have given him another twist for
wedding her, when the reason for marrying her (her conversion) had
ceased with her baptism. His marriage, according to this, was a pure
work of supererogation. It took place about the 5th of April, 1614. It
is not known who performed the ceremony.

How Pocahontas passed her time in Jamestown during the period of her
detention, we are not told. Conjectures are made that she was an inmate
of the house of Sir Thomas Dale, or of that of the Rev. Mr. Whittaker,
both of whom labored zealously to enlighten her mind on religious
subjects. She must also have been learning English and civilized ways,
for it is sure that she spoke our language very well when she went to
London. Mr. John Rolfe was also laboring for her conversion, and we may
suppose that with all these ministrations, mingled with her love of Mr.
Rolfe, which that ingenious widower had discovered, and her desire to
convert him into a husband, she was not an unwilling captive. Whatever
may have been her barbarous instincts, we have the testimony of Governor
Dale that she lived "civilly and lovingly" with her husband.





STORY OF POCAHONTAS, CONTINUED

Sir Thomas Dale was on the whole the most efficient and discreet
Governor the colony had had. One element of his success was no doubt the
change in the charter of 1609. By the first charter everything had
been held in common by the company, and there had been no division of
property or allotment of land among the colonists. Under the new regime
land was held in severalty, and the spur of individual interest began
at once to improve the condition of the settlement. The character of the
colonists was also gradually improving. They had not been of a sort
to fulfill the earnest desire of the London promoter's to spread vital
piety in the New World. A zealous defense of Virginia and Maryland,
against "scandalous imputation," entitled "Leah and Rachel; or, The
Two Fruitful Sisters," by Mr. John Hammond, London, 1656, considers
the charges that Virginia "is an unhealthy place, a nest of rogues,
abandoned women, dissolut and rookery persons; a place of intolerable
labour, bad usage and hard diet"; and admits that "at the first
settling, and for many years after, it deserved most of these
aspersions, nor were they then aspersions but truths.... There were
jails supplied, youth seduced, infamous women drilled in, the provision
all brought out of England, and that embezzled by the Trustees."

Governor Dale was a soldier; entering the army in the Netherlands as a
private he had risen to high position, and received knighthood in 1606.
Shortly after he was with Sir Thomas Gates in South Holland. The States
General in 1611 granted him three years' term of absence in Virginia.
Upon his arrival he began to put in force that system of industry and
frugality he had observed in Holland. He had all the imperiousness of a
soldier, and in an altercation with Captain Newport, occasioned by some
injurious remarks the latter made about Sir Thomas Smith, the treasurer,
he pulled his beard and threatened to hang him. Active operations for
settling new plantations were at once begun, and Dale wrote to Cecil,
the Earl of Salisbury, for 2,000 good colonists to be sent out, for the
three hundred that came were "so profane, so riotous, so full of mutiny,
that not many are Christians but in name, their bodies so diseased and
crazed that not sixty of them may be employed." He served afterwards
with credit in Holland, was made commander of the East Indian fleet in
1618, had a naval engagement with the Dutch near Bantam in 1619, and
died in 1620 from the effects of the climate. He was twice married, and
his second wife, Lady Fanny, the cousin of his first wife, survived him
and received a patent for a Virginia plantation.

Governor Dale kept steadily in view the conversion of the Indians to
Christianity, and the success of John Rolfe with Matoaka inspired
him with a desire to convert another daughter of Powhatan, of whose
exquisite perfections he had heard. He therefore despatched Ralph Hamor,
with the English boy, Thomas Savage, as interpreter, on a mission to
the court of Powhatan, "upon a message unto him, which was to deale with
him, if by any means I might procure a daughter of his, who (Pocahuntas
being already in our possession) is generally reported to be his delight
and darling, and surely he esteemed her as his owne Soule, for surer
pledge of peace." This visit Hamor relates with great naivete.

At his town of Matchcot, near the head of York River, Powhatan
himself received his visitors when they landed, with great cordiality,
expressing much pleasure at seeing again the boy who had been presented
to him by Captain Newport, and whom he had not seen since he gave him
leave to go and see his friends at Jamestown four years before; he also
inquired anxiously after Namontack, whom he had sent to King James's
land to see him and his country and report thereon, and then led the way
to his house, where he sat down on his bedstead side. "On each hand of
him was placed a comely and personable young woman, which they called
his Queenes, the howse within round about beset with them, the outside
guarded with a hundred bowmen."

The first thing offered was a pipe of tobacco, which Powhatan "first
drank," and then passed to Hamor, who "drank" what he pleased and then
returned it. The Emperor then inquired how his brother Sir Thomas Dale
fared, "and after that of his daughter's welfare, her marriage, his
unknown son, and how they liked, lived and loved together." Hamor
replied "that his brother was very well, and his daughter so well
content that she would not change her life to return and live with him,
whereat he laughed heartily, and said he was very glad of it."

Powhatan then desired to know the cause of his unexpected coming, and
Mr. Hamor said his message was private, to be delivered to him without
the presence of any except one of his councilors, and one of the guides,
who already knew it.

Therefore the house was cleared of all except the two Queens, who may
never sequester themselves, and Mr. Hamor began his palaver. First there
was a message of love and inviolable peace, the production of presents
of coffee, beads, combs, fish-hooks, and knives, and the promise of
a grindstone when it pleased the Emperor to send for it. Hamor then
proceeded:

"The bruite of the exquesite perfection of your youngest daughter, being
famous through all your territories, hath come to the hearing of your
brother, Sir Thomas Dale, who for this purpose hath addressed me hither,
to intreate you by that brotherly friendship you make profession of, to
permit her (with me) to returne unto him, partly for the desire which
himselfe hath, and partly for the desire her sister hath to see her of
whom, if fame hath not been prodigall, as like enough it hath not, your
brother (by your favour) would gladly make his nearest companion, wife
and bed fellow [many times he would have interrupted my speech, which
I entreated him to heare out, and then if he pleased to returne me
answer], and the reason hereof is, because being now friendly and firmly
united together, and made one people [as he supposeth and believes] in
the bond of love, he would make a natural union between us, principally
because himself hath taken resolution to dwel in your country so long as
he liveth, and would not only therefore have the firmest assurance hee
may, of perpetuall friendship from you, but also hereby binde himselfe
thereunto."

Powhatan replied with dignity that he gladly accepted the salute of love
and peace, which he and his subjects would exactly maintain. But as to
the other matter he said: "My daughter, whom my brother desireth, I sold
within these three days to be wife to a great Weroance for two bushels
of Roanoke [a small kind of beads made of oyster shells], and it is true
she is already gone with him, three days' journey from me."

Hamor persisted that this marriage need not stand in the way; "that if
he pleased herein to gratify his Brother he might, restoring the Roanoke
without the imputation of injustice, take home his daughter again, the
rather because she was not full twelve years old, and therefore not
marriageable; assuring him besides the bond of peace, so much the
firmer, he should have treble the price of his daughter in beads,
copper, hatchets, and many other things more useful for him."

The reply of the noble old savage to this infamous demand ought to have
brought a blush to the cheeks of those who made it. He said he loved his
daughter as dearly as his life; he had many children, but he delighted
in none so much as in her; he could not live if he did not see her
often, as he would not if she were living with the whites, and he
was determined not to put himself in their hands. He desired no other
assurance of friendship than his brother had given him, who had already
one of his daughters as a pledge, which was sufficient while she lived;
"when she dieth he shall have another child of mine." And then he broke
forth in pathetic eloquence: "I hold it not a brotherly part of your
King, to desire to bereave me of two of my children at once; further
give him to understand, that if he had no pledge at all, he should not
need to distrust any injury from me, or any under my subjection; there
have been too many of his and my men killed, and by my occasion there
shall never be more; I which have power to perform it have said it; no
not though I should have just occasion offered, for I am now old and
would gladly end my days in peace; so as if the English offer me any
injury, my country is large enough, I will remove myself farther from
you."

The old man hospitably entertained his guests for a day or two, loaded
them with presents, among which were two dressed buckskins, white as
snow, for his son and daughter, and, requesting some articles sent him
in return, bade them farewell with this message to Governor Dale: "I
hope this will give him good satisfaction, if it do not I will go three
days' journey farther from him, and never see Englishmen more." It
speaks well for the temperate habits of this savage that after he had
feasted his guests, "he caused to be fetched a great glass of sack, some
three quarts or better, which Captain Newport had given him six or seven
years since, carefully preserved by him, not much above a pint in all
this time spent, and gave each of us in a great oyster shell some three
spoonfuls."

We trust that Sir Thomas Dale gave a faithful account of all this to his
wife in England.

Sir Thomas Gates left Virginia in the spring of 1614 and never returned.
After his departure scarcity and severity developed a mutiny, and six
of the settlers were executed. Rolfe was planting tobacco (he has the
credit of being the first white planter of it), and his wife was getting
an inside view of Christian civilization.

In 1616 Sir Thomas Dale returned to England with his company and John
Rolfe and Pocahontas, and several other Indians. They reached Plymouth
early in June, and on the 20th Lord Carew made this note: "Sir Thomas
Dale returned from Virginia; he hath brought divers men and women of
thatt countrye to be educated here, and one Rolfe who married a daughter
of Pohetan (the barbarous prince) called Pocahuntas, hath brought his
wife with him into England." On the 22d Sir John Chamberlain wrote to
Sir Dudley Carlton that there were "ten or twelve, old and young, of
that country."

The Indian girls who came with Pocahontas appear to have been a great
care to the London company. In May, 1620, is a record that the company
had to pay for physic and cordials for one of them who had been living
as a servant in Cheapside, and was very weak of a consumption. The same
year two other of the maids were shipped off to the Bermudas, after
being long a charge to the company, in the hope that they might there
get husbands, "that after they were converted and had children, they
might be sent to their country and kindred to civilize them." One of
them was there married. The attempt to educate them in England was not
very successful, and a proposal to bring over Indian boys obtained this
comment from Sir Edwin Sandys:

"Now to send for them into England, and to have them educated here, he
found upon experience of those brought by Sir Thomas Dale, might be far
from the Christian work intended." One Nanamack, a lad brought over by
Lord Delaware, lived some years in houses where "he heard not much of
religion but sins, had many times examples of drinking, swearing and
like evils, ran as he was a mere Pagan," till he fell in with a
devout family and changed his life, but died before he was baptized.
Accompanying Pocahontas was a councilor of Powhatan, one Tomocomo, the
husband of one of her sisters, of whom Purchas says in his "Pilgrimes":
"With this savage I have often conversed with my good friend Master
Doctor Goldstone where he was a frequent geust, and where I have seen
him sing and dance his diabolical measures, and heard him discourse of
his country and religion.... Master Rolfe lent me a discourse which
I have in my Pilgrimage delivered. And his wife did not only accustom
herself to civility, but still carried herself as the daughter of a
king, and was accordingly respected, not only by the Company which
allowed provision for herself and her son, but of divers particular
persons of honor, in their hopeful zeal by her to advance Christianity.
I was present when my honorable and reverend patron, the Lord Bishop of
London, Doctor King, entertained her with festival state and pomp beyond
what I had seen in his great hospitality offered to other ladies. At
her return towards Virginia she came at Gravesend to her end and grave,
having given great demonstration of her Christian sincerity, as the
first fruits of Virginia conversion, leaving here a goodly memory,
and the hopes of her resurrection, her soul aspiring to see and enjoy
permanently in heaven what here she had joyed to hear and believe of her
blessed Saviour. Not such was Tomocomo, but a blasphemer of what he knew
not and preferring his God to ours because he taught them (by his own
so appearing) to wear their Devil-lock at the left ear; he acquainted me
with the manner of that his appearance, and believed that their Okee or
Devil had taught them their husbandry."

Upon news of her arrival, Captain Smith, either to increase his own
importance or because Pocahontas was neglected, addressed a letter or
"little booke" to Queen Anne, the consort of King James. This letter is
found in Smith's "General Historie" ( 1624), where it is introduced
as having been sent to Queen Anne in 1616. Probably he sent her such a
letter. We find no mention of its receipt or of any acknowledgment of
it. Whether the "abstract" in the "General Historie" is exactly like
the original we have no means of knowing. We have no more confidence in
Smith's memory than we have in his dates. The letter is as follows:

"To the most high and vertuous Princesse Queene Anne of Great Brittaine.

"Most ADMIRED QUEENE.

"The love I beare my God, my King and Countrie hath so oft emboldened me
in the worst of extreme dangers, that now honestie doth constraine mee
presume thus farre beyond my selfe, to present your Majestie this short
discourse: if ingratitude be a deadly poyson to all honest vertues,
I must be guiltie of that crime if I should omit any meanes to bee
thankful. So it is.

"That some ten yeeres agoe being in Virginia, and taken prisoner by the
power of Powhaten, their chiefe King, I received from this great Salvage
exceeding great courtesie, especially from his sonne Nantaquaus, the
most manliest, comeliest, boldest spirit, I ever saw in a Salvage and
his sister Pocahontas, the Kings most deare and well-beloved daughter,
being but a childe of twelve or thirteen yeeres of age, whose
compassionate pitifull heart, of desperate estate, gave me much cause
to respect her: I being the first Christian this proud King and his grim
attendants ever saw, and thus enthralled in their barbarous power, I
cannot say I felt the least occasion of want that was in the power of
those my mortall foes to prevent notwithstanding al their threats. After
some six weeks fatting amongst those Salvage Courtiers, at the minute of
my execution, she hazarded the beating out of her owne braines to save
mine, and not onely that, but so prevailed with her father, that I was
safely conducted to Jamestowne, where I found about eight and thirty
miserable poore and sicke creatures, to keepe possession of all those
large territories of Virginia, such was the weaknesse of this poore
Commonwealth, as had the Salvages not fed us, we directly had starved.

"And this reliefe, most gracious Queene, was commonly brought us by
this Lady Pocahontas, notwithstanding all these passages when inconstant
Fortune turned our Peace to warre, this tender Virgin would still not
spare to dare to visit us, and by her our jarres have been oft appeased,
and our wants still supplyed; were it the policie of her father thus to
imploy her, or the ordinance of God thus to make her his instrument, or
her extraordinarie affection to our Nation, I know not: but of this I am
sure: when her father with the utmost of his policie and power, sought
to surprize mee, having but eighteene with mee, the dark night could not
affright her from comming through the irksome woods, and with watered
eies gave me intilligence, with her best advice to escape his furie:
which had hee known hee had surely slaine her. Jamestowne with her wild
traine she as freely frequented, as her father's habitation: and during
the time of two or three yeares, she next under God, was still the
instrument to preserve this Colonie from death, famine and utter
confusion, which if in those times had once beene dissolved, Virginia
might have laine as it was at our first arrivall to this day. Since
then, this buisinesse having been turned and varied by many accidents
from that I left it at: it is most certaine, after a long and
troublesome warre after my departure, betwixt her father and our
Colonie, all which time shee was not heard of, about two yeeres longer,
the Colonie by that meanes was releived, peace concluded, and at last
rejecting her barbarous condition, was maried to an English Gentleman,
with whom at this present she is in England; the first Christian ever of
that Nation, the first Virginian ever spake English, or had a childe
in mariage by an Englishman, a matter surely, if my meaning bee truly
considered and well understood, worthy a Princes understanding.

"Thus most gracious Lady, I have related to your Majestic, what at your
best leasure our approved Histories will account you at large, and done
in the time of your Majesties life, and however this might bee presented
you from a more worthy pen, it cannot from a more honest heart, as yet
I never begged anything of the State, or any, and it is my want of
abilitie and her exceeding desert, your birth, meanes, and authoritie,
her birth, vertue, want and simplicitie, doth make mee thus bold, humbly
to beseech your Majestic: to take this knowledge of her though it be
from one so unworthy to be the reporter, as myselfe, her husband's
estate not being able to make her fit to attend your Majestic: the most
and least I can doe, is to tell you this, because none so oft hath tried
it as myselfe: and the rather being of so great a spirit, however her
station: if she should not be well received, seeing this Kingdome
may rightly have a Kingdome by her meanes: her present love to us and
Christianitie, might turne to such scorne and furie, as to divert all
this good to the worst of evill, when finding so great a Queene should
doe her some honour more than she can imagine, for being so kinde to
your servants and subjects, would so ravish her with content, as endeare
her dearest bloud to effect that, your Majestic and all the Kings honest
subjects most earnestly desire: and so I humbly kisse your gracious
hands."

The passage in this letter, "She hazarded the beating out of her owne
braines to save mine," is inconsistent with the preceding portion of the
paragraph which speaks of "the exceeding great courtesie" of Powhatan;
and Smith was quite capable of inserting it afterwards when he made up
his

"General Historie."

Smith represents himself at this time--the last half of 1616 and the
first three months of 1617--as preparing to attempt a third voyage to
New England (which he did not make), and too busy to do Pocahontas the
service she desired. She was staying at Branford, either from neglect
of the company or because the London smoke disagreed with her, and there
Smith went to see her. His account of his intercourse with her, the only
one we have, must be given for what it is worth. According to this she
had supposed Smith dead, and took umbrage at his neglect of her. He
writes:

"After a modest salutation, without any word, she turned about, obscured
her face, as not seeming well contented; and in that humour, her husband
with divers others, we all left her two or three hours repenting myself
to have writ she could speak English. But not long after she began to
talke, remembering me well what courtesies she had done: saying, 'You
did promise Powhatan what was yours should be his, and he the like to
you; you called him father, being in his land a stranger, and by the
same reason so must I do you:' which though I would have excused, I
durst not allow of that title, because she was a king's daughter. With
a well set countenance she said: 'Were you not afraid to come into my
father's country and cause fear in him and all his people (but me), and
fear you have I should call you father; I tell you then I will, and
you shall call me childe, and so I will be forever and ever, your
contrieman. They did tell me alwaies you were dead, and I knew no other
till I came to Plymouth, yet Powhatan did command Uttamatomakkin to seek
you, and know the truth, because your countriemen will lie much."'

This savage was the Tomocomo spoken of above, who had been sent by
Powhatan to take a census of the people of England, and report what they
and their state were. At Plymouth he got a long stick and began to make
notches in it for the people he saw. But he was quickly weary of that
task. He told Smith that Powhatan bade him seek him out, and get him
to show him his God, and the King, Queen, and Prince, of whom Smith had
told so much. Smith put him off about showing his God, but said he had
heard that he had seen the King. This the Indian denied, James probably
not coming up to his idea of a king, till by circumstances he was
convinced he had seen him. Then he replied very sadly: "You gave
Powhatan a white dog, which Powhatan fed as himself, but your king gave
me nothing, and I am better than your white dog."

Smith adds that he took several courtiers to see Pocahontas, and "they
did think God had a great hand in her conversion, and they have seen
many English ladies worse favoured, proportioned, and behavioured;" and
he heard that it had pleased the King and Queen greatly to esteem her,
as also Lord and Lady Delaware, and other persons of good quality, both
at the masques and otherwise.

Much has been said about the reception of Pocahontas in London, but
the contemporary notices of her are scant. The Indians were objects of
curiosity for a time in London, as odd Americans have often been since,
and the rank of Pocahontas procured her special attention. She was
presented at court. She was entertained by Dr. King, Bishop of London.
At the playing of Ben Jonson's "Christmas his Mask" at court, January
6, 1616-17, Pocahontas and Tomocomo were both present, and Chamberlain
writes to Carleton: "The Virginian woman Pocahuntas with her father
counsellor have been with the King and graciously used, and both she and
her assistant were pleased at the Masque. She is upon her return though
sore against her will, if the wind would about to send her away."

Mr. Neill says that "after the first weeks of her residence in England
she does not appear to be spoken of as the wife of Rolfe by the letter
writers," and the Rev. Peter Fontaine says that "when they heard that
Rolfe had married Pocahontas, it was deliberated in council whether he
had not committed high treason by so doing, that is marrying an Indian
princesse."

It was like James to think so. His interest in the colony was never
the most intelligent, and apt to be in things trivial. Lord Southampton
(Dec. 15, 1609) writes to Lord Salisbury that he had told the King of
the Virginia squirrels brought into England, which are said to fly. The
King very earnestly asked if none were provided for him, and said he was
sure Salisbury would get him one. Would not have troubled him, "but that
you know so well how he is affected to these toys."

There has been recently found in the British Museum a print of a
portrait of Pocahontas, with a legend round it in Latin, which is
translated: "Matoaka, alias Rebecka, Daughter of Prince Powhatan,
Emperor of Virginia; converted to Christianity, married Mr. Rolff; died
on shipboard at Gravesend 1617." This is doubtless the portrait engraved
by Simon De Passe in 1616, and now inserted in the extant copies of the
London edition of the "General Historie," 1624. It is not probable that
the portrait was originally published with the "General Historie." The
portrait inserted in the edition of 1624 has this inscription:

Round the portrait:

"Matoaka als Rebecca Filia Potentiss Princ: Pohatani Imp: Virginim."

In the oval, under the portrait:

         "Aetatis suae 21 A.
            1616"
Below:

"Matoaks als Rebecka daughter to the mighty Prince Powhatan Emprour of
Attanoughkomouck als virginia converted and baptized in the Christian
faith, and wife to the worth Mr. job Rolff. i: Pass: sculp. Compton
Holland excud."


Camden in his "History of Gravesend" says that everybody paid this
young lady all imaginable respect, and it was believed she would have
sufficiently acknowledged those favors, had she lived to return to her
own country, by bringing the Indians to a kinder disposition toward the
English; and that she died, "giving testimony all the time she lay sick,
of her being a very good Christian."

The Lady Rebecka, as she was called in London, died on shipboard at
Gravesend after a brief illness, said to be of only three days, probably
on the 21st of March, 1617. I have seen somewhere a statement, which
I cannot confirm, that her disease was smallpox. St. George's Church,
where she was buried, was destroyed by fire in 1727. The register of
that church has this record:


       "1616, May 21 Rebecca Wrothe
        Wyff of Thomas Wroth gent
     A Virginia lady borne, here was buried
          in ye chaunncle."

Yet there is no doubt, according to a record in the Calendar of State
Papers, dated "1617, 29 March, London," that her death occurred March
21, 1617.

John Rolfe was made Secretary of Virginia when Captain Argall became
Governor, and seems to have been associated in the schemes of that
unscrupulous person and to have forfeited the good opinion of the
company. August 23, 1618, the company wrote to Argall: "We cannot
imagine why you should give us warning that Opechankano and the natives
have given the country to Mr. Rolfe's child, and that they reserve it
from all others till he comes of years except as we suppose as some
do here report it be a device of your own, to some special purpose for
yourself." It appears also by the minutes of the company in 1621 that
Lady Delaware had trouble to recover goods of hers left in Rolfe's hands
in Virginia, and desired a commission directed to Sir Thomas Wyatt and
Mr. George Sandys to examine what goods of the late "Lord Deleware had
come into Rolfe's possession and get satisfaction of him." This George
Sandys is the famous traveler who made a journey through the Turkish
Empire in 1610, and who wrote, while living in Virginia, the first book
written in the New World, the completion of his translation of Ovid's
"Metamorphosis."

John Rolfe died in Virginia in 1622, leaving a wife and children.
This is supposed to be his third wife, though there is no note of his
marriage to her nor of the death of his first. October 7, 1622, his
brother Henry Rolfe petitioned that the estate of John should be
converted to the support of his relict wife and children and to his own
indemnity for having brought up John's child by Powhatan's daughter.

This child, named Thomas Rolfe, was given after the death of Pocahontas
to the keeping of Sir Lewis Stukely of Plymouth, who fell into evil
practices, and the boy was transferred to the guardianship of his uncle
Henry Rolfe, and educated in London. When he was grown up he returned
to Virginia, and was probably there married. There is on record his
application to the Virginia authorities in 1641 for leave to go into the
Indian country and visit Cleopatra, his mother's sister. He left an only
daughter who was married, says Stith (1753), "to Col. John Bolling; by
whom she left an only son, the late Major John Bolling, who was father
to the present Col. John Bolling, and several daughters, married to
Col. Richard Randolph, Col. John Fleming, Dr. William Gay, Mr. Thomas
Eldridge, and Mr. James Murray." Campbell in his "History of Virginia"
says that the first Randolph that came to the James River was an
esteemed and industrious mechanic, and that one of his sons, Richard,
grandfather of the celebrated John Randolph, married Jane Bolling, the
great granddaughter of Pocahontas.

In 1618 died the great Powhatan, full of years and satiated with
fighting and the savage delights of life. He had many names and titles;
his own people sometimes called him Ottaniack, sometimes Mamauatonick,
and usually in his presence Wahunsenasawk. He ruled, by inheritance and
conquest, with many chiefs under him, over a large territory with not
defined borders, lying on the James, the York, the Rappahannock, the
Potomac, and the Pawtuxet Rivers. He had several seats, at which he
alternately lived with his many wives and guard of bowmen, the chief of
which at the arrival of the English was Werowomocomo, on the Pamunkey
(York) River. His state has been sufficiently described. He is said
to have had a hundred wives, and generally a dozen--the
youngest--personally attending him. When he had a mind to add to his
harem he seems to have had the ancient oriental custom of sending into
all his dominions for the fairest maidens to be brought from whom to
select. And he gave the wives of whom he was tired to his favorites.

Strachey makes a striking description of him as he appeared about 1610:
"He is a goodly old man not yet shrincking, though well beaten with cold
and stormeye winters, in which he hath been patient of many necessityes
and attempts of his fortune to make his name and famely great. He is
supposed to be little lesse than eighty yeares old, I dare not saye how
much more; others saye he is of a tall stature and cleane lymbes, of a
sad aspect, rownd fatt visaged, with graie haires, but plaine and thin,
hanging upon his broad showlders; some few haires upon his chin, and so
on his upper lippe: he hath been a strong and able salvadge, synowye,
vigilant, ambitious, subtile to enlarge his dominions:... cruell he hath
been, and quarellous as well with his own wcrowanccs for trifles, and
that to strike a terrour and awe into them of his power and condicion,
as also with his neighbors in his younger days, though now delighted in
security and pleasure, and therefore stands upon reasonable conditions
of peace with all the great and absolute werowances about him, and is
likewise more quietly settled amongst his own."

It was at this advanced age that he had the twelve favorite young wives
whom Strachey names. All his people obeyed him with fear and adoration,
presenting anything he ordered at his feet, and trembling if he frowned.
His punishments were cruel; offenders were beaten to death before him,
or tied to trees and dismembered joint by joint, or broiled to death on
burning coals. Strachey wondered how such a barbarous prince should put
on such ostentation of majesty, yet he accounted for it as belonging to
the necessary divinity that doth hedge in a king: "Such is (I believe)
the impression of the divine nature, and however these (as other
heathens forsaken by the true light) have not that porcion of the
knowing blessed Christian spiritt, yet I am perswaded there is an
infused kind of divinities and extraordinary (appointed that it shall
be so by the King of kings) to such as are his ymedyate instruments on
earth."

Here is perhaps as good a place as any to say a word or two about the
appearance and habits of Powhatan's subjects, as they were observed
by Strachey and Smith. A sort of religion they had, with priests or
conjurors, and houses set apart as temples, wherein images were kept
and conjurations performed, but the ceremonies seem not worship, but
propitiations against evil, and there seems to have been no conception
of an overruling power or of an immortal life. Smith describes a
ceremony of sacrifice of children to their deity; but this is doubtful,
although Parson Whittaker, who calls the Indians "naked slaves of the
devil," also says they sacrificed sometimes themselves and sometimes
their own children. An image of their god which he sent to England
"was painted upon one side of a toadstool, much like unto a deformed
monster." And he adds: "Their priests, whom they call Quockosoughs, are
no other but such as our English witches are." This notion I believe
also pertained among the New England colonists. There was a belief
that the Indian conjurors had some power over the elements, but not a
well-regulated power, and in time the Indians came to a belief in the
better effect of the invocations of the whites. In "Winslow's Relation,"
quoted by Alexander Young in his "Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers,"
under date of July, 1623, we read that on account of a great drought
a fast day was appointed. When the assembly met the sky was clear. The
exercise lasted eight or nine hours. Before they broke up, owing to
prayers the weather was overcast. Next day began a long gentle rain.
This the Indians seeing, admired the goodness of our God: "showing the
difference between their conjuration and our invocation in the name
of God for rain; theirs being mixed with such storms and tempests, as
sometimes, instead of doing them good, it layeth the corn flat on the
ground; but ours in so gentle and seasonable a manner, as they never
observed the like."

It was a common opinion of the early settlers in Virginia, as it was of
those in New England, that the Indians were born white, but that they
got a brown or tawny color by the use of red ointments, made of earth
and the juice of roots, with which they besmear themselves either
according to the custom of the country or as a defense against the
stinging of mosquitoes. The women are of the same hue as the men, says
Strachey; "howbeit, it is supposed neither of them naturally borne so
discolored; for Captain Smith (lyving sometymes amongst them) affirmeth
how they are from the womb indifferent white, but as the men, so doe the
women," "dye and disguise themselves into this tawny cowler, esteeming
it the best beauty to be nearest such a kind of murrey as a sodden
quince is of," as the Greek women colored their faces and the ancient
Britain women dyed themselves with red; "howbeit [Strachey slyly adds]
he or she that hath obtained the perfected art in the tempering of this
collour with any better kind of earth, yearb or root preserves it not
yet so secrett and precious unto herself as doe our great ladyes their
oyle of talchum, or other painting white and red, but they frindly
communicate the secret and teach it one another."

Thomas Lechford in his "Plain Dealing; or Newes from New England,"
London, 1642, says: "They are of complexion swarthy and tawny; their
children are borne white, but they bedawbe them with oyle and colors
presently."

The men are described as tall, straight, and of comely proportions; no
beards; hair black, coarse, and thick; noses broad, flat, and full at
the end; with big lips and wide mouths', yet nothing so unsightly as
the Moors; and the women as having "handsome limbs, slender arms, pretty
hands, and when they sing they have a pleasant tange in their voices.
The men shaved their hair on the right side, the women acting as
barbers, and left the hair full length on the left side, with a lock an
ell long." A Puritan divine--"New England's Plantation, 1630"--says of
the Indians about him, "their hair is generally black, and cut before
like our gentlewomen, and one lock longer than the rest, much like to
our gentlemen, which fashion I think came from hence into England."

Their love of ornaments is sufficiently illustrated by an extract from
Strachey, which is in substance what Smith writes:

"Their eares they boare with wyde holes, commonly two or three, and in
the same they doe hang chaines of stayned pearle braceletts, of white
bone or shreeds of copper, beaten thinne and bright, and wounde up
hollowe, and with a grate pride, certaine fowles' legges, eagles,
hawkes, turkeys, etc., with beasts clawes, bears, arrahacounes,
squirrells, etc. The clawes thrust through they let hang upon the cheeke
to the full view, and some of their men there be who will weare in these
holes a small greene and yellow-couloured live snake, neere half a yard
in length, which crawling and lapping himself about his neck oftentymes
familiarly, he suffreeth to kisse his lippes. Others weare a dead ratt
tyed by the tayle, and such like conundrums."

This is the earliest use I find of our word "conundrum," and the sense
it bears here may aid in discovering its origin.

Powhatan is a very large figure in early Virginia history, and deserves
his prominence. He was an able and crafty savage, and made a good fight
against the encroachments of the whites, but he was no match for
the crafty Smith, nor the double-dealing of the Christians. There is
something pathetic about the close of his life, his sorrow for the death
of his daughter in a strange land, when he saw his territories overrun
by the invaders, from whom he only asked peace, and the poor privilege
of moving further away from them into the wilderness if they denied him
peace.

In the midst of this savagery Pocahontas blooms like a sweet, wild rose.
She was, like the Douglas, "tender and true." Wanting apparently the
cruel nature of her race generally, her heroic qualities were all of the
heart. No one of all the contemporary writers has anything but gentle
words for her. Barbarous and untaught she was like her comrades, but of
a gentle nature. Stripped of all the fictions which Captain Smith has
woven into her story, and all the romantic suggestions which later
writers have indulged in, she appears, in the light of the few facts
that industry is able to gather concerning her, as a pleasing and
unrestrained Indian girl, probably not different from her savage sisters
in her habits, but bright and gentle; struck with admiration at the
appearance of the white men, and easily moved to pity them, and so
inclined to a growing and lasting friendship for them; tractable and apt
to learn refinements; accepting the new religion through love for those
who taught it, and finally becoming in her maturity a well-balanced,
sensible, dignified Christian woman.

According to the long-accepted story of Pocahontas, she did something
more than interfere to save from barbarous torture and death a stranger
and a captive, who had forfeited his life by shooting those who
opposed his invasion. In all times, among the most savage tribes and in
civilized society, women have been moved to heavenly pity by the sight
of a prisoner, and risked life to save him--the impulse was as natural
to a Highland lass as to an African maid. Pocahontas went further than
efforts to make peace between the superior race and her own. When the
whites forced the Indians to contribute from their scanty stores to the
support of the invaders, and burned their dwellings and shot them on
sight if they refused, the Indian maid sympathized with the exposed
whites and warned them of stratagems against them; captured herself by a
base violation of the laws of hospitality, she was easily reconciled to
her situation, adopted the habits of the foreigners, married one of her
captors, and in peace and in war cast in her lot with the strangers.
History has not preserved for us the Indian view of her conduct.

It was no doubt fortunate for her, though perhaps not for the colony,
that her romantic career ended by an early death, so that she always
remains in history in the bloom of youth. She did not live to be pained
by the contrast, to which her eyes were opened, between her own and her
adopted people, nor to learn what things could be done in the Christian
name she loved, nor to see her husband in a less honorable light than
she left him, nor to be involved in any way in the frightful massacre
of 1622. If she had remained in England after the novelty was over, she
might have been subject to slights and mortifying neglect. The struggles
of the fighting colony could have brought her little but pain. Dying
when she did, she rounded out one of the prettiest romances of all
history, and secured for her name the affection of a great nation, whose
empire has spared little that belonged to her childhood and race, except
the remembrance of her friendship for those who destroyed her people.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Pocahantas, by Charles Dudley Warner

*** 





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Transcriber's Note

A number of typographical errors have been maintained in this version
of this book. They have been marked with a [TN-#], which refers to a
description in the complete list found at the end of the text.
Inconsistent spelling, hyphenation, and capitalization have been
maintained. A list of inconsistently spelled, hyphenated, and
capitalized words is found in a list at the end of the text.

Oe ligatures have been expanded. The following codes are used for
characters that are not available in the character set used for this
book:

  [sun]  Sun symbol
  [=a]   a with macron
  [c]    open o
  [C]    open O




  VESTIGES OF THE MAYAS,

  OR,

  _Facts tending to prove that Communications and Intimate Relations
  must have existed, in very remote times, between the inhabitants of_

  MAYAB

  AND THOSE OF

  ASIA AND AFRICA.

  BY

  AUGUSTUS LE PLONGEON, M. D.,

  Member of the American Antiquarian Society of Worcester, Mass., of the
  California Academy of Sciences, and several other Scientific Societies.
  Author of various Essays and Scientific Works.

  NEW YORK:
  JOHN POLHEMUS, PRINTER AND STATIONER,
  102 NASSAU STREET.

  1881.




To

_MR. PIERRE LORILLARD._

Who deserves the thanks of the students of American Archaeology more than
you, for the interest manifested in the explorations of the ruined
monuments of Central America, handiwork of the races that inhabited this
continent in remote ages, and the material help given by you to Foreign
and American explorers in that field of investigations?

Accept, then, my personal thanks, with the dedication of this small
Essay. It forms part of the result of many years' study and hardships
among the ruined cities of the Incas, in Peru, and of the Mayas in
Yucatan.

    Yours very respectfully,

      AUGUSTUS LE PLONGEON, M. D.

NEW YORK, _December 15, 1881_.




  Entered according to an Act of Congress, in December, 1881,

  BY AUGUSTUS LE PLONGEON,

  In the Office of the LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS in Washington, D.C.




VESTIGES OF THE MAYAS.


Yucatan is the peninsula which divides the Gulf of Mexico from the
Caribbean Sea. It is comprised between the 17 deg. 30' and 21 deg. 50',
of latitude north, and the 88 deg. and 91 deg. of longitude west from
the Greenwich meridian.

The whole peninsula is of fossiferous limestone formation. Elevated a
few feet only above the sea, on the coasts, it gradually raises toward
the interior, to a maximum height of above 70 feet. A bird's-eye view,
from a lofty building, impresses the beholder with the idea that he is
looking on an immense sea of verdure, having the horizon for boundary;
without a hill, not even a hillock, to break the monotony of the
landscape. Here and there clusters of palm trees, or artificial mounds,
covered with shrubs, loom above the green dead-level as islets, over
that expanse of green foliage, affording a momentary relief to the eyes
growing tired of so much sameness.

About fifty miles from the northwestern coast begins a low, narrow range
of hills, whose highest point is not much above 500 feet. It traverses
the peninsula in a direction a little south from east, commencing a few
miles north from the ruined city of Uxmal, and terminating some distance
from the eastern coast, opposite to the magnificent bay of Ascension.

Lately I have noticed that some veins of red oxide of iron exist among
these hills--quarries of marble must also be found there; since the
sculptured ornaments that adorn the facade of all the monuments at Uxmal
are of that stone. To-day the inhabitants of Yucatan are even ignorant
of the existence of these minerals in their country, and ocher to paint,
and marble slabs to floor their houses, are imported from abroad. I
have also discovered veins of good lithographic stones that could be
worked at comparatively little expense.

The surface of the country is undulating; its stony waves recall
forcibly to the mind the heavy swell of mid-ocean. It seems as if, in
times long gone by, the soil was upheaved, _en masse_, from the bottom
of the sea, by volcanic forces. This upheaval must have taken place many
centuries ago, since isolated columns of _Katuns_ 1m. 50c. square,
erected at least 6,000 years ago, stand yet in the same perpendicular
position, as at the time when another stone was added to those already
piled up, to indicate a lapse of twenty years in the life of the nation.

It is, indeed, a remarkable fact, that whilst the surrounding
countries--Mexico, Guatemala, Cuba and the other West India Islands--are
frequently convulsed by earthquakes, the peninsula of Yucatan is
entirely free from these awe-inspiring convulsions of mother earth. This
immunity may be attributed, in my opinion, to the innumerable and
extensive caves with which the whole country is entirely honeycombed;
and the large number of immense natural wells, called Senotes, that are
to be found everywhere. These caves and senotes afford an outlet for the
escape of the gases generated in the superficial strata of the earth.
These, finding no resistance to their passage, follow, harmlessly, these
vents without producing on the surface any of those terrible commotions
that fill the heart of man and beast alike with fright and dismay.

Some of those caves are said to be very extensive--None, however, has
been thoroughly explored. I have visited a few, certainly extremely
beautiful, adorned as they are with brilliant stalactites depending from
their roofs, that seem as if supported by the stalagmites that must have
required ages to be formed gradually from the floor into the massive
columns, as we see them to-day.

In all the caves are to be found either inexhaustible springs of clear,
pure, cold water, or streams inhabited by shrimps and fishes. No one can
tell whence they come or where they go. All currents of water are
subterraneous. Not a river is to be found on the surface; not even the
smallest of streamlets, where the birds of the air, or the wild beasts
of the forests, can allay their thirst during the dry season. The
plants, if there are no chinks or crevices in the stony soil through
which their roots can penetrate and seek the life-sustaining fluid
below, wither and die. It is a curious sight that presented by the roots
of the trees, growing on the precipituous[TN-1] brinks of the _senotes_,
in their search for water. They go down and down, even a hundred feet,
until they reach the liquid surface, from where they suck up the fluid
to aliment the body of the tree. They seem like many cables and ropes
stretched all round the sides of the well; and, in fact, serves as such
to some of the most daring of the natives, to ascend or descend to enjoy
a refreshing bath.

These _senotes_ are immense circular holes, the diameter of which varies
from 50 to 500 feet, with perpendicular walls from 50 to 150 feet deep.
These holes might be supposed to have served as ducts for the
subterranean gases at the time of the upheaval of the country. Now they
generally contain water. In some, the current is easily noticeable; many
are completely dry; whilst others contain thermal mineral water,
emitting at times strong sulphurous odor and vapor.

Many strange stories are told by the aborigines concerning the
properties possessed by the water in certain senotes, and the strange
phenomena that takes place in others. In one, for example, you are
warned to approach the water walking backward, and to breathe very
softly, otherwise it becomes turbid and unfit for drinking until it has
settled and become clear again. In another you are told not to speak
above a whisper, for if any one raises the voice the tranquil surface of
the water immediately becomes agitated, and soon assumes the appearance
of boiling; even its level raises. These and many other things are told
in connection with the caves and senotes; and we find them mentioned in
the writings of the chroniclers and historians from the time of the
Spanish conquest.

No lakes exist on the surface, at least within the territories occupied
by the white men. Some small sheets of water, called aguadas, may be
found here and there, and are fed by the underground current; but they
are very rare. There are three or four near the ruins of the ancient
city of Mayapan: probably its inhabitants found in them an abundant
supply of water. Following all the same direction, they are, as some
suppose, no doubt with reason, the outbreaks of a subterranean stream
that comes also to the surface in the senote of _Mucuyche_. A mile or so
from Uxmal is another aguada; but judging from the great number of
artificial reservoirs, built on the terraces and in the courts of all
the monuments, it would seem as if the people there depended more on the
clouds for their provision of water than on the wells and senotes. Yet I
feel confident that one of these must exist under the building known as
the Governor's house; having discovered in its immediate vicinity the
entrance--now closed--of a cave from which a cool current of air is
continually issuing; at times with great force.

I have been assured by Indians from the village of Chemax, who pretend
to know that part of the country well, that, at a distance of about
fifty miles from the city of Valladolid, the actual largest settlement
on the eastern frontier, in the territories occupied by the SANTA CRUZ
Indians, there exists, near the ruins of _Kaba_, two extensive sheets of
water, from where, in years gone by, the inhabitants of Valladolid
procured abundant supply of excellent fishes. These ruins of Kaba, said
to be very interesting, have never been visited by any foreigner; nor
are they likely to be for many years to come, on account of the imminent
danger of falling into the hands of those of Santa Cruz--that, since
1847, wage war to the knife against the Yucatecans.

On the coast, the sea penetrating in the lowlands have formed sloughs
and lakes, on the shores of which thickets of mangroves grow, with
tropical luxuriancy. Intermingling their crooked roots, they form such a
barrier as to make landing well nigh impossible. These small lakes,
subject to the ebb and flow of the tides, are the resort of innumerable
sea birds and water fowls of all sizes and descriptions; from the snipe
to the crane, and brightly  flamingos, from the screeching sea
gulls to the serious looking pelican. They are attracted to these lakes
by the solitude of the forests of mangroves that afford them excellent
shelter, where to build their nests, and find protection from the storms
that, at certain season of the year, sweep with untold violence along
the coast: and because with ease they can procure an abundant supply of
food, these waters being inhabited by myriads of fishes, as they come to
bask on the surface which is seldom ruffled even when the tempest rages
outside.

Notwithstanding the want of superficial water, the air is always charged
with moisture; the consequence being a most equable temperature all the
year round, and an extreme luxuriance of all vegetation. The climate is
mild and comparatively healthy for a country situated within the
tropics, and bathed by the waters of the Mexican Gulf. This mildness and
healthiness may be attributed to the sea breezes that constantly pass
over the peninsula, carrying the malaria and noxious gases that have not
been absorbed by the forests, which cover the main portion of the land;
and to the great abundance of oxygen exuded by the plants in return.
This excessive moisture and the decomposition of dead vegetable matter
is the cause of the intermittent fevers that prevail in all parts of the
peninsula, where the yellow fever, under a mild form generally, is also
endemic. When it appears, as this year, in an epidemic form, the natives
themselves enjoy no immunity from its ravages, and fall victims to it as
well as unacclimated foreigners.

These epidemics, those of smallpox and other diseases that at times make
their appearance in Yucatan, generally present themselves after the
rainy season, particularly if the rains have been excessive. The country
being extremely flat, the drainage is necessarily very bad: and in
places like Merida, for example, where a crowding of population exists,
and the cleanliness of the streets is utterly disregarded by the proper
authorities, the decomposition of vegetable and animal matter is very
large; and the miasmas generated, being carried with the vapors arising
from the constant evaporation of stagnant waters, are the origin of
those scourges that decimate the inhabitants. Yucatan, isolated as it
is, its small territory nearly surrounded by water, ought to be, if the
laws of health were properly enforced, one of the most healthy countries
on the earth; where, as in the Island of Cozumel, people should only die
of old age or accident. The thermometer varies but little, averaging
about 80 deg. _Far_. True, it rises in the months of July and August as
high as 96 deg. in the shade, but it seldom falls below 65 deg. in the
month of December. In the dry season, from January to June, the trees
become divested of their leaves, that fall more particularly in March
and April. Then the sun, returning from the south on its way to the
north, passes over the land and darts its scorching perpendicular rays
on it, causing every living creature to thirst for a drop of cool water;
the heat being increased by the burning of those parts of the forests
that have been cut down to prepare fields for cultivation.

In the portion of the peninsula, about one-third of it, that still
remains in possession of the white, the Santa Cruz Indians holding,
since 1847, the richest and most fertile, two-thirds, the soil is
entirely stony. The arable loam, a few inches in thickness, is the
result of the detriti of the stones, mixed with the remainder of the
decomposition of vegetable matter. In certain districts, towards the
eastern and southern parts of the State, patches of red clay form
excellent ground for the cultivation of the sugar cane and Yuca root.
From this an excellent starch is obtained in large quantities. Withal,
the soil is of astonishing fertility, and trees, even, are met with of
large size, whose roots run on the surface of the bare stone,
penetrating the chinks and crevices only in search of moisture. Often
times I have seen them growing from the center of slabs, the seed having
fallen in a hole that happened to be bored in them. In the month of May
the whole country seems parched and dry. Not a leaf, not a bud. The
branches and boughs are naked, and covered with a thick coating of gray
dust. Nothing to intercept the sight in the thicket but the bare trunks
and branches, with the withes entwining them. With the first days of
June come the first refreshing showers. As if a magic wand had been
waved over the land, the view changes--life springs everywhere. In the
short space of a few days the forests have resumed their holiday attire;
buds appear and the leaves shoot; the flowers bloom sending forth their
fragrance, that wafted by the breeze perfume the air far and near. The
birds sing their best songs of joy; the insects chirp their shrillest
notes; butterflies of gorgeous colors flutter in clouds in every
direction in search of the nectar contained in the cups of the
newly-opened blossom, and dispute it with the brilliant humming-birds.
All creation rejoices because a few tears of mother Nature have brought
joy and happiness to all living beings, from the smallest blade of grass
to the majestic palm; from the creeping worm to man, who proudly titles
himself the lord of creation.

Yucatan has no rich metallic mines, but its wealth of vegetable
productions is immense. Large forests of mahogany, cedar, zapotillo
trees cover vast extents of land in the eastern and southern portions of
the peninsula; whilst patches of logwood and mora, many miles in length,
grow near the coast. The wood is to-day cut down and exported by the
Indians of Santa Cruz through their agents at Belize. Coffee, vanilla,
tobacco, india-rubber, rosins of various kinds, copal in particular,
all of good quality, abound in the country, but are not cultivated on
account of its unsettled state; the Indians retaining possession of the
most fertile territories where these rich products are found.

The whites have been reduced to the culture of the Hennequen plant
(agave sisalensis) in order to subsist. It is the only article of
commerce that grows well on the stony soil to which they are now
confined. The filament obtained from the plant, and the objects
manufactured from it constitute the principal article of export; in fact
the only source of wealth of the Yucatecans. As the filament is now much
in demand for the fabrication of cordage in the United States and
Europe, many of the landowners have ceased to plant maize, although the
staple article of food in all classes, to convert their land into
hennequen fields. The plant thrives well on stony soil, requires no
water and but little care. The natural consequence of planting the whole
country with hennequen has been so great a deficiency in the maize crop,
that this year not enough was grown for the consumption, and people in
the northeastern district were beginning to suffer from the want of it,
when some merchants of Merida imported large quantities from New York.
They, of course, sold it at advanced prices, much to the detriment of
the poorer classes. Some sugar is also cultivated in the southern and
eastern districts, but not in sufficient quantities even for the
consumption; and not a little is imported from Habana.

The population of the country, about 250,000 souls all told, are mostly
Indians and mixed blood. In fact, very few families can be found of pure
Caucasian race. Notwithstanding the great admixture of different races,
a careful observer can readily distinguish yet four prominent ones, very
noticeable by their features, their stature, the conformation of their
body. The dwarfish race is certainly easily distinguishable from the
descendants of the giants that tradition says once upon a time existed
in the country, whose bones are yet found, and whose portraits are
painted on the walls of Chaacmol's funeral chamber at Chichen-Itza. The
almond-eyed, flat-nosed Siamese race of Copan is not to be mistaken for
the long, big-nosed, flat-headed remnant of the Nahualt from Palenque,
who are said to have invaded the country some time at the beginning of
the Christian era; and whose advent among the Mayas, whose civilization
they appear to have destroyed, has been commemorated by calling the
_west_, the region whence they came, according to Landa, Cogolludo and
other historians, NOHNIAL, a word which means literally _big noses for
our daughters_; whilst the coming of the bearded men from the _east_,
better looking than those of the west, if we are to give credit to the
bas-relief where their portraits are to be seen, was called
CENIAL--_ornaments for our daughters_.

If we are to judge by the great number of ruined cities scattered
everywhere through the forests of the peninsula; by the architectural
beauty of the monuments still extant, the specimens of their artistic
attainments in drawing and sculpture which have reached us in the
bas-reliefs, statues and mural paintings of Uxmal and Chichen-Itza; by
their knowledge in mathematical and astronomical sciences, as manifested
in the construction of the gnomon found by me in the ruins of Mayapan;
by the complexity of the grammatical form and syntaxis of their
language, still spoken to-day by the majority of the inhabitants of
Yucatan; by their mode of expressing their thoughts on paper, made from
the bark of certain trees, with alphabetical and phonetical characters,
we must of necessity believe that, at some time or other, the country
was not only densely populated, but that the inhabitants had reached a
high degree of civilization. To-day we can conceive of very few of their
attainments by the scanty remains of their handiwork, as they have come
to us injured by the hand of time, and, more so yet, by that of man,
during the wars, the invasions, the social and religious convulsions
which have taken place among these people, as among all other nations.
Only the opening of the buildings which contain the libraries of their
learned men, and the reading of their works, could solve the mystery,
and cause us to know how much they had advanced in the discovery and
explanation of Nature's arcana; how much they knew of mankind's past
history, and of the nations with which they held intercourse. Let us
hope that the day may yet come when the Mexican government will grant to
me the requisite permission, in order that I may bring forth, from the
edifices where they are hidden, the precious volumes, without opposition
from the owners of the property where the monuments exist. Until then we
must content ourselves with the study of the inscriptions carved on the
walls, and becoming acquainted with the history of their builders, and
continue to conjecture what knowledge they possessed in order to be able
to rear such enduring structures, besides the art of designing the plans
and ornaments, and the manner of carving them on stone.

Let us place ourselves in the position of the archaeologists of thousands
of years to come, examining the ruins of our great cities, finding still
on foot some of the stronger built palaces and public buildings, with
some rare specimens of the arts, sciences, industry of our days, the
minor edifices having disappeared, gnawed by the steely tooth of time,
together with the many products of our industry, the machines of all
kinds, creation of man's ingenuity, and his powerful helpmates. What
would they know of the attainments and the progress in mechanics of our
days? Would they be able to form a complete idea of our civilization,
and of the knowledge of our scientific men, without the help of the
volumes contained in our public libraries, and maybe of some one able to
interpret them? Well, it seems to me that we stand in exactly the same
position concerning the civilization of those who have preceded us five
or ten thousand years ago on this continent, as these future
archaeologists may stand regarding our civilization five or ten thousand
years hence.

It is a fact, recorded by all historians of the Conquest, that when for
the first time in 1517 the Spaniards came in sight of the lands called
by them Yucatan, they were surprised to see on the coast many monuments
well built of stone; and to find the country strewn with large cities
and beautiful monuments that recalled to their memory the best of Spain.
They were no less astonished to meet in the inhabitants, not naked
savages, but a civilized people, possessed of polite and pleasant
manners, dressed in white cotton habiliments, navigating large boats
propelled by sails, traveling on well constructed roads and causeways
that, in point of beauty and solidity, could compare advantageously with
similar Roman structures in Spain, Italy, England or France.

I will not describe here the majestic monuments raised by the Mayas.
Mrs. Le Plongeon, in her letters to the _New York World_, has given of
those of UXMAL, AKE and MAYAPAN, the only correct description ever
published. My object at present is to relate some of the curious facts
revealed to us by their weather-beaten and crumbling walls, and show how
erroneous is the opinion of some European scientists, who think it not
worth while to give a moment of their precious time to the study of
American archaeology, because say they: _No relations have ever been
found to have existed between the monuments and civilizations of the
inhabitants of this continent and those of the old world_. On what
ground they hazard such an opinion it is difficult to surmise, since to
my knowledge the ancient ruined cities of Yucatan, until lately, have
never been thoroughly, much less scientifically, explored. The same is
true of the other monumental ruins of the whole of Central America.

When Mrs. Le Plongeon and myself landed at Progresso, in 1873, we
thought that because we had read the works of Stephens, Waldeck,
Norman, Fredeichstal; carefully examined the few photographic views made
by Mr. Charnay of some of the monuments, we knew all about them. Alas!
vain presumption! When in presence of the antique shrines and palaces of
the Mayas, we soon saw how mistaken we had been; how little those
writers had seen of the monuments they had pretended to describe: that
the work of studying them systematically was not even begun; and that
many years of close observation and patient labor would be necessary in
order to dispel the mysteries which hang over them, and to discover the
hidden meaning of their ornaments and inscriptions. To this difficult
task we resolved to dedicate our time, and to concentrate our efforts to
find a solution, if possible, to the enigma.

We began our work by taking photographs of all the monuments in their
_tout ensemble_, and in all their details, as much as practicable. Next,
we surveyed them carefully; made accurate plans of them in order to be
able to comprehend by the disposition of their different parts, for what
possible use they were erected; taking, as a starting point, that the
human mind and human inclinations and wants are the same in all times,
in all countries, in all races when civilized and cultured. We next
carefully examined what connection the ornaments bore to each other, and
tried to understand the meaning of the designs. At first the maze of
these designs seemed a very difficult riddle to solve. Yet, we believed
that if a human intelligence had devised it, another human intelligence
would certainly be able to unravel it. It was not, however, until we had
nearly completed the tracing and study of the mural paintings, still
extant in the funeral chamber of Chaacmol, or room built on the top of
the eastern wall of the gymnasium at Chichen-Itza, at its southern end,
that Stephens mistook for a shrine dedicated to the god of the players
at ball, that a glimmer of light began to dawn upon us. In tracing the
figure of Chaacmol in battle, I remarked that the shield worn by him
had painted on it round green spots, and was exactly like the ornaments
placed between tiger and tiger on the entablature of the same monument.
I naturally concluded that the monument had been raised to the memory of
the warrior bearing the shield; that the tigers represented his totem,
and that _Chaacmol_ or _Balam_ maya[TN-2] words for spotted tiger or
leopard, was his name. I then remembered that at about one hundred yards
in the thicket from the edifice, in an easterly direction, a few days
before, I had noticed the ruins of a remarkable mound of rather small
dimensions. It was ornamented with slabs engraved with the images of
spotted tigers, eating human hearts, forming magnificent bas-reliefs,
conserving yet traces of the colors in which it was formerly painted. I
repaired to the place. Doubts were no longer possible. The same round
dots, forming the spots of their skins, were present here as on the
shield of the warrior in battle, and that on the entablature of the
building. On examining carefully the ground around the mound, I soon
stumbled upon what seemed to be a half buried statue. On clearing the
_debris_ we found a statue in the round, representing a wounded tiger
reclining on his right side. Three holes in the back indicated the
places where he received his wounds. It was headless. A few feet
further, I found a human head with the eyes half closed, as those of a
dying person. When placed on the neck of the tiger it fitted exactly. I
propped it with sticks to keep it in place. So arranged, it recalled
vividly the Chaldean and Egyptian deities having heads of human beings
and bodies of animals. The next object that called my attention was
another slab on which was represented in bas-relief a dying warrior,
reclining on his back, the head was thrown entirely backwards. His left
arm was placed across his chest, the left hand resting on the right
shoulder, exactly in the same position which the Egyptians were wont, at
times, to give to the mummies of some of their eminent men. From his
mouth was seen escaping two thin, narrow flames--the spirit of the
dying man abandoning the body with the last warm breath.

These and many other sculptures caused me to suspect that this monument
had been the mausoleum raised to the memory of the warrior with the
shield covered with the round dots. Next to the slabs engraved with the
image of tigers was another, representing an _ara militaris_ (a bird of
the parrot specie, very large and of brilliant plumage of various
colors). I took it for the totem of his wife, MOO, _macaw_; and so it
proved to be when later I was able to interpret their ideographic
writings. _Kinich-Kakmo_ after her death obtained the honors of the
apotheosis; had temples raised to her memory, and was worshipped at
Izamal up to the time of the Spanish conquest, according to Landa,
Cogolludo and Lizana.

Satisfied that I had found the tomb of a great warrior among the Mayas,
I resolved to make an excavation, notwithstanding I had no tools or
implements proper for such work. After two months of hard toil, after
penetrating through three level floors painted with yellow ochre, at
last a large stone urn came in sight. It was opened in presence of
Colonel D. Daniel Traconis. It contained a small heap of grayish dust
over which lay the cover of a terra cotta pot, also painted yellow; a
few small ornaments of macre that crumbled to dust on being touched, and
a large ball of jade, with a hole pierced in the middle. This ball had
at one time been highly polished, but for some cause or other the polish
had disappeared from one side. Near, and lower than the urn, was
discovered the head of the colossal statue, to-day the best, or one of
the best pieces, in the National Museum of Mexico, having been carried
thither on board of the gunboat _Libertad_, without my consent, and
without any renumeration having even been offered by the Mexican
government for my labor, my time and the money spent in the discovery.
Close to the chest of the statue was another stone urn much larger than
the first. On being uncovered it was found to contain a large quantity
of reddish substance and some jade ornaments. On closely examining this
substance I pronounced it organic matter that had been subjected to a
very great heat in an open vessel. (A chemical analysis of some of it by
Professor Thompson, of Worcester, Mass., at the request of Mr. Stephen
Salisbury, Jr., confirmed my opinion). From the position of the urn I
made up my mind that its contents were the heart and viscera of the
personage represented by the statue; while the dust found in the first
urn must have been the residue of his brains.

Landa tells us that it was the custom, even at the time of the Spanish
conquest, when a person of eminence died to make images of stone, or
terra cotta or wood in the semblance of the deceased, whose ashes were
placed in a hollow made on the back of the head for the purpose. Feeling
sorry for having thus disturbed the remains of _Chaacmol_, so carefully
concealed by his friends and relatives many centuries ago; in order to
save them from further desecration, I burned the greater part reserving
only a small quantity for future analysis. This finding of the heart and
brains of that chieftain, afforded an explanation, if any was needed, of
one of the scenes more artistically portrayed in the mural paintings of
his funeral chamber. In this scene which is painted immediately over the
entrance of the chamber, where is also a life-size representation of his
corpse prepared for cremation, the dead warrior is pictured stretched on
the ground, his back resting on a large stone placed for the purpose of
raising the body and keeping open the cut made across it, under the
ribs, for the extraction of the heart and other parts it was customary
to preserve. These are seen in the hands of his children. At the feet of
the statue were found a number of beautiful arrowheads of flint and
chalcedony; also beads that formed part of his necklace. These, to-day
petrified, seemed to have been originally of bone or ivory. They were
wrought to figure shells of periwinkles. Surrounding the slab on which
the figure rests was a large quantity of dried blood. This fact might
lead us to suppose that slaves were sacrificed at his funeral, as
Herodotus tells us it was customary with the Scythians, and we know it
was with the Romans and other nations of the old world, and the Incas in
Peru. Yet not a bone or any other human remains were found in the
mausoleum.

The statue forms a single piece with the slab on which it reclines, as
if about to rise on his elbows, the legs being drawn up so that the feet
rest flat on the slab. I consider this attitude given to the statues of
dead personages that I have discovered in Chichen, where they are still,
to be symbolical of their belief in reincarnation. They, in common with
the Egyptians, the Hindoos, and other nations of antiquity, held that
the spirit of man after being made to suffer for its shortcomings during
its mundane life, would enjoy happiness for a time proportionate to its
good deeds, then return to earth, animate the body and live again a
material existence. The Mayas, however, destroying the body by fire,
made statues in the semblance of the deceased, so that, being
indestructible the spirit might find and animate them on its return to
earth. The present aborigines have the same belief. Even to-day, they
never fail to prepare the _hanal pixan_, the food for the spirits, which
they place in secluded spots in the forests or fields, every year, in
the month of November. These statues also hold an urn between their
hands. This fact again recalls to the mind the Egpptian[TN-3] custom of
placing an urn in the coffins with the mummies, to indicate that the
spirit of the deceased had been judged and found righteous.

The ornament hanging on the breast of Chaacmol's effigy, from a ribbon
tied with a peculiar knot behind his neck, is simply a badge of his
rank; the same is seen on the breast of many other personages in the
bas-reliefs and mural paintings. A similar mark of authority is yet in
usage in Burmah.

I have tarried so long on the description of my first important
discovery because I desired to explain the method followed by me in the
investigation of these monuments, to show that the result of our labors
are by no means the work of imagination--as some have been so kind a
_short_ time ago as to intimate--but of careful and patient analysis and
comparison; also, in order, from the start, to call your attention to
the similarity of certain customs in the funeral rites that the Mayas
seem to have possessed in common with other nations of the old world:
and lastly, because my friend, Dr. Jesus Sanchez, Professor of
Archaeology in the National Museum of Mexico, ignoring altogether the
circumstances accompanying the discovery of the statue, has published in
the _Anales del Museo Nacional_, a long dissertation--full of erudition,
certainly--to prove that the statue discovered by me at Chichen-Itza,
was a representation of the _God of the natural production of the
earth_, and that the name given by me was altogether arbitrary; and,
also, because an article has appeared in the _North American Review_ for
October, 1880, signed by Mr. Charnay, in which the author, after
re-producing Mr. Sanchez's writing, pronounces _ex cathedra_ and _de
perse_, but without assigning any reason for his opinion, that the
statue is the effigy of the _god of wine_--the Mexican Bacchus--without
telling us which of them, for there were two.

Having been obliged to abandon the statue in the forests--well wrapped
in oilcloth, and sheltered under a hut of palm leaves, constructed by
Mrs. Le Plongeon and myself--my men having been disarmed by order of
General Palomino, then commander-in-chief of the federal forces in
Yucatan, in consequence of a revolutionary movement against Dr.
Sebastian Lerdo de Tejada and in favor of General Diaz--I went to Uxmal
to continue my researches among its ruined temples and palaces. There I
took many photographs, surveyed the monuments, and, for the first time,
found the remnants of the phallic worship of the Nahualts. Its symbols
are not to be seen in Chichen--the city of the holy and learned men,
Itzaes--but are frequently met with in the northern parts of the
peninsula, and all the regions where the Nahualt influence predominated.

There can be no doubt that in very ancient times the same customs and
religious worship existed in Uxmal and Chichen, since these two cities
were founded by the same family, that of CAN (serpent), whose name is
written on all the monuments in both places. CAN and the members of his
family worshipped Deity under the symbol of the mastodon's head. At
Chichen a tableau of said worship forms the ornament of the building,
designated in the work of Stephens, "Travels in Yucatan," as IGLESIA;
being, in fact, the north wing of the palace and museum. This is the
reason why the mastodon's head forms so prominent a feature in all the
ornaments of the edifices built by them. They also worshipped the sun
and fire, which they represented by the same hieroglyph used by the
Egyptians for the sun [sun]. In this worship of the fire they resembled
the Chaldeans and Hindoos, but differed from the Egyptians, who had no
veneration for this element. They regarded it merely as an animal that
devoured all things within its reach, and died with all it had
swallowed, when replete and satisfied.

From certain inscriptions and pictures--in which the _Cans_ are
represented crawling on all fours like dogs--sculptured on the facade of
their house of worship, it would appear that their religion of the
mastodon was replaced by that of the reciprocal forces of nature,
imported in the country by the big-nosed invaders, the Nahualts coming
from the west. These destroyed Chichen, and established their capital at
_Uxmal_. There they erected in all the courts of the palaces, and on the
platforms of the temples the symbols of their religion, taking care,
however, not to interfere with the worship of the sun and fire, that
seems to have been the most popular.

Bancroft in his work, "_The Native Races of the Pacific States_," Vol.
IV., page 277, remarks: "That the scarcity of idols among the Maya
antiquities must be regarded as extraordinary. That the people of
Yucatan were idolators there is no possible doubt, and in connection
with the magnificent shrines and temples erected by them, and rivalling
or excelling the grand obelisks of Copan, might naturally be sought for,
but in view of the facts it must be concluded that the Maya idols were
very small, and that such as escaped the fatal iconoclasms of the
Spanish ecclesiastics were buried by the natives as the only means of
preventing their desecration."

That the people who inhabited the country at the time of the Spanish
conquest had a multiplicity of gods there can be no doubt. The primitive
form of worship, with time and by the effect of invasions from outside,
had disappeared, and been replaced by that of their great men and women,
who were deified and had temples raised to their memory, as we see, for
example, in the case of _Moo_,[TN-4] wife and sister of Chaacmol, whose
shrine was built on the high mound on the north side of the large square
in the city of Izamal. There pilgrims flocked from all parts of the
country to listen to the oracles delivered by the mouth of her priests;
and see the goddess come down from the clouds every day, at mid-day,
under the form of a resplendent macaw, and light the fire that was to
consume the offerings deposited on her altar; even at the time of the
conquest, according to the chroniclers, Chaacmol himself seems to have
become the god of war, that always appeared in the midst of the battle,
fighting on the side of his followers, surrounded with flames. Kukulcan,
"the culture" hero of the Mayas, the winged serpent, worshipped by the
Mexicans as the god Guetzalcoalt,[TN-5] and by the Quiches as Cucumatz,
if not the father himself of Chaacmol, CAN, at least one of his
ancestors.

The friends and followers of that prince may have worshipped him after
his death, and the following generations, seeing the representation of
his totems (serpent) covered with feathers, on the walls of his palaces,
and of the sanctuaries built by him to the deity, called him Kukulcan,
the winged serpent: when, in fact, the artists who carved his emblems on
the walls covered them with the cloaks he and all the men in authority
and the high priests wore on ceremonial occasions--feathered
vestments--as we learned from the study of mural paintings.

In the temples and palaces of the ancient Mayas I have never seen
anything that I could in truth take for idols. I have seen many symbols,
such as double-headed tigers, corresponding to the double-headed lions
of the Egyptians, emblems of the sun. I have seen the representation of
people kneeling in a peculiar manner, with their right hand resting on
the left shoulder--sign of respect among the Mayas as among the
inhabitants of Egypt--in the act of worshiping the mastodon head; but I
doubt if this can be said to be idol worship. _Can_ and his family were
probably monotheists. The masses of the people, however, may have placed
the different natural phenomena under the direct supervision of special
imaginary beings, prescribing to them the same duties that among the
Catholics are prescribed, or rather attributed, to some of the saints;
and may have tributed to them the sort of worship of _dulia_, tributed
to the saints--even made images that they imagined to represent such or
such deity, as they do to-day; but I have never found any. They
worshiped the divine essence, and called it KU.

In course of time this worship may have been replaced by idolatrous
rites, introduced by the barbarous or half civilized tribes which
invaded the country, and implanted among the inhabitants their religious
belief, their idolatrous superstitions and form of worship with their
symbols. The monuments of Uxmal afford ample evidence of that fact.

My studies, however, have nothing to do with the history of the country
posterior to the invasion of the Nahualts. These people appear to have
destroyed the high form of civilization existing at the time of their
advent; and tampered with the ornaments of the buildings in order to
introduce the symbols of the reciprocal forces of nature.

The language of the ancient Mayas, strange as it may appear, has
survived all the vicissitudes of time, wars, and political and religious
convulsions. It has, of course, somewhat degenerated by the mingling of
so many races in such a limited space as the peninsula of Yucatan is;
but it is yet the vernacular of the people. The Spaniards themselves,
who strived so hard to wipe out all vestiges of the ancient customs of
the aborigines, were unable to destroy it; nay, they were obliged to
learn it; and now many of their descendants have forgotten the mother
tongue of their sires, and speak Maya only.

In some localities in Central America it is still spoken in its pristine
purity, as, for example, by the _Chaacmules_, a tribe of bearded men, it
is said, who live in the vicinity of the unexplored ruins of the ancient
city of _Tekal_. It is a well-known fact that many tribes, as that of
the Itzaes, retreating before the Nahualt invaders, after the surrender
and destruction of their cities, sought refuge in the islands of the
lake _Peten_ of to-day, and called it _Petenitza_, the _islands of the
Itzaes_; or in the well nigh inaccessible valleys, defended by ranges of
towering mountains. There they live to-day, preserving the customs,
manners, language of their forefathers unaltered, in the tract of land
known to us as _Tierra de Guerra_. No white man has ever penetrated
their zealously guarded stronghold that lays between Guatemala, Tabasco,
Chiapas and Yucatan, the river _Uzumasinta_ watering part of their
territory.

The Maya language seems to be one of the oldest tongues spoken by man,
since it contains words and expressions of all, or nearly all, the known
polished languages on earth. The name _Maya_, with the same
signification everywhere it is met, is to be found scattered over the
different countries of what we term the Old World, as in Central
America.

I beg to call your attention to the following facts. They may have no
significance. They may be mere coincidences, the strange freaks of
hazard, of no possible value in the opinion of some among the learned
men of our days. Just as the finding of English words and English
customs, as now exist among the most remote nations and heterogeneous
people and tribes of all races and colors, who do not even suspect the
existence of one another, may be regarded by the learned philologists
and ethonologists[TN-6] of two or three thousand years hence. These
will, perhaps, also pretend that _these coincidences_ are simply the
curious workings of the human mind--the efforts of men endeavoring to
express their thoughts in language, that being reduced to a certain
number of sounds, must, of necessity produce, if not the same, at least
very similar words to express the same idea--and that this similarity
does not prove that those who invented them had, at any time,
communication, unless, maybe, at the time of the building of the
hypothetical Tower of Babel. Then all the inhabitants of earth are said
to have bid each other a friendly good night, a certain evening, in a
universal tongue, to find next morning that everybody had gone stark mad
during the night: since each one, on meeting sixty-nine of his friends,
was greeted by every one in a different and unknown manner, according to
learned rabbins; and that he could no more understand what they said,
than they what he said[TN-7]

It is very difficult without the help of the books of the learned
priests of _Mayab_ to know positively why they gave that name to the
country known to-day as Yucatan. I can only surmise that they so called
it from the great absorbant[TN-8] quality of its stony soil, which, in
an incredibly short time, absorbs the water at the surface. This
percolating through the pores of the stone is afterward found filtered
clear and cool in the senotes and caves. _Mayab_, in the Maya language,
means a tammy, a sieve. From the name of the country, no doubt, the
Mayas took their name, as natural; and that name is found, as that of
the English to-day, all over the ancient civilized world.

When, on January 28, 1873, I had the honor of reading a paper before the
New York American Geographical Society--on the coincidences that exist
between the monuments, customs, religious rites, etc. of the prehistoric
inhabitants of America and those of Asia and Egypt--I pointed to the
fact that sun circles, dolmen and tumuli, similar to the megalithic
monuments of America, had been found to exist scattered through the
islands of the Pacific to Hindostan; over the plains of the peninsulas
at the south of Asia, through the deserts of Arabia, to the northern
parts of Africa; and that not only these rough monuments of a primitive
age, but those of a far more advanced civilization were also to be seen
in these same countries. Allow me to repeat now what I then said
regarding these strange facts: If we start from the American continent
and travel towards the setting sun we may be able to trace the route
followed by the mound builders to the plains of Asia and the valley of
the Nile. The mounds scattered through the valley of the Mississippi
seem to be the rude specimens of that kind of architecture. Then come
the more highly finished teocalis of Yucatan and Mexico and Peru; the
pyramidal mounds of _Maui_, one of the Sandwich Islands; those existing
in the Fejee and other islands of the Pacific; which, in China, we find
converted into the high, porcelain, gradated towers; and these again
converted into the more imposing temples of Cochin-China, Hindostan,
Ceylon--so grand, so stupendous in their wealth of ornamentation that
those of Chichen-Itza Uxmal, Palenque, admirable as they are, well nigh
dwindle into insignificance, as far as labor and imagination are
concerned, when compared with them. That they present the same
fundamental conception in their architecture is evident--a platform
rising over another platform, the one above being of lesser size than
the one below; the American monuments serving, as it were, as models for
the more elaborate and perfect, showing the advance of art and
knowledge.

The name Maya seems to have existed from the remotest times in the
meridional parts of Hindostan. Valmiki, in his epic poem, the Ramayana,
said to be written 1500 before the Christian era, in which he recounts
the wars and prowesses of RAMA in the recovery of his lost wife, the
beautiful SITA, speaking of the country inhabited by the Mayas,
describes it as abounding in mines of silver and gold, with precious
stones and lapiz lazuri:[TN-9] and bounded by the _Vindhya_ mountains on
one side, the _Prastravana_ range on the other and the sea on the third.
The emissaries of RAMA having entered by mistake within the Mayas
territories, learned that all foreigners were forbidden to penetrate
into them; and that those who were so imprudent as to violate this
prohibition, even through ignorance, seldom escaped being put to death.
(Strange[TN-10] to say, the same thing happens to-day to those who try
to penetrate into the territories of the _Santa Cruz_ Indians, or in the
valleys occupied by the _Lacandones_, _Itzaes_ and other tribes that
inhabit _La Tierra de Guerra_. The Yucatecans themselves do not like
foreigners to go, and less to settle, in their country--are consequently
opposed to immigration.

The emissaries of Rama, says the poet, met in the forest a woman who
told them: That in very remote ages a prince of the Davanas, a learned
magician, possessed of great power, whose name was _Maya_, established
himself in the country, and that he was the architect of the principal
of the Davanas: but having fallen in love with the nymph _Hema_, married
her; whereby he roused the jealousy of the god _Pourandura_, who
attacked and killed him with a thunderbolt. Now, it is worthy of notice,
that the word _Hem_ signifies in the Maya language to _cross with
ropes_; or according to Brasseur, _hidden mysteries_.

By a most rare coincidence we have the same identical story recorded in
the mural paintings of Chaacmol's funeral chamber, and in the sculptures
of Chichsen[TN-11] and Uxmal. There we find that Chaacmol, the husband
of Moo[TN-12] is killed by his brother Aac, who stabbed him three times
in the back with his spear for jealousy. Aac was in love with his sister
Moo, but she married his brother Chaacmol from choice, and because the
law of the country prescribed that the younger brother should marry his
sister, making it a crime for the older brothers to marry her.

In another part of the _Ramayana_, MAYA is described as a powerful
_Asoura_, always thirsting for battles and full of arrogance and
pride--an enemy to B[=a]li, chief of one of the monkey tribes, by whom
he was finally vanquished. The celebrated Indianist, Mr. H. T.
Colebrooke, in a memoir on the sacred books of the Hindoos, published in
Vol. VIII of the "Asiatic Researches," says: "The _Souryasiddkantu_ (the
most ancient Indian treatise on astronomy), is not considered as written
by MAYA; but this personage is represented as receiving his science from
a partial incarnation of the sun."

MAYA is also, according to the Rig-Veda, the goddess, by whom all things
are created by her union with Brahma. She is the cosmic egg, the golden
uterus, the _Hiramyagarbha_. We see an image of it, represented floating
amidst the water, in the sculptures that adorn the panel over the door
of the east facade of the monument, called by me palace and museum at
Chichen-Itza. Emile Burnouf, in his Sanscrit Dictionary, at the word
Maya, says: Maya, an architect of the _Datyas_; Maya (_mas._), magician,
prestidigitator; (_fem._) illusion, prestige; Maya, the magic virtue of
the gods, their power for producing all things; also the feminine or
producing energy of Brahma.

I will complete the list of these remarkable coincidences with a few
others regarding customs exactly similar in both countries. One of these
consists in carrying children astride on the hip in Yucatan as in India.
In Yucatan this custom is accompanied by a very interesting ceremony
called _hetzmec_. It is as follows: When a child reaches the age of four
months an invitation is sent to the friends and members of the family of
the parents to assemble at their house. Then in presence of all
assembled the legs of the child are opened, and he is placed astride
the hip of the _nailah_ or _hetzmec_ godmother; she in turn encircling
the little one with her arm, supports him in that position whilst she
walks five times round the house. During the time she is occupied in
that walk five eggs are placed in hot ashes, so that they may burst and
the five senses of the child be opened. By the manner in which they
burst and the time they require for bursting, they pretend to know if he
will be intelligent or not. During the ceremony they place in his tiny
hands the implement pertaining to the industry he is expected to
practice. The _nailah_ is henceforth considered as a second mother to
the child; who, when able to understand, is made to respect her: and she
is expected, in case of the mother's death, to adopt and take care of
the child as if he were her own.

Now, I will call your attention to another strange and most remarkable
custom that was common to the inhabitants of _Mayab_, some tribes of the
aborigines of North America, and several of those that dwell in
Hindostan, and practice it even to-day. I refer to the printing of the
human hand, dipped in a red  liquid, on the walls of certain
sacred edifices. Could not this custom, existing amongst nations so far
apart, unknown to each other, and for apparently the same purposes, be
considered as a link in the chain of evidence tending to prove that very
intimate relations and communications have existed anciently between
their ancestors? Might it not help the ethnologists to follow the
migrations of the human race from this western continent to the eastern
and southern shores of Asia, across the wastes of the Pacific Ocean? I
am told by unimpeachable witnesses that they have seen the red or bloody
hand in more than one of the temples of the South Sea islanders; and his
Excellency Fred. P. Barlee, Esq., the actual governor of British
Honduras, has assured me that he has examined this seemingly indelible
imprint of the red hand on some rocks in caves in Australia. There is
scarcely a monument in Yucatan that does not preserve the imprint of
the open upraised hand, dipped in red paint of some sort, perfectly
visible on its walls. I lately took tracings of two of these imprints
that exist in the back saloon of the main hall, in the governor's house
at Uxmal, in order to calculate the height of the personage who thus
attested to those of his race, as I learned from one of my Indian
friends, who passes for a wizard, that the building was _in naa_, my
house. I may well say that the archway of the palace of the priests,
toward the court, was nearly covered with them. Yet I am not aware that
such symbol was ever used by the inhabitants of the countries bordering
on the shores of the Mediterranean or by the Assyrians, or that it ever
was discovered among the ruined temples or palaces of Egypt.

The meaning of the red hand used by the aborigines of some parts of
America has been, it is well known, a subject of discussion for learned
men and scientific societies. Its uses as a symbol remained for a long
time a matter of conjecture. It seems that Mr. Schoolcraft had truly
arrived at the knowledge of its veritable meaning. Effectively, in the
2d column of the 5th page of the _New York Herald_ for April 12, 1879,
in the account of the visit paid by Gen. Grant to Ram Singh, Maharajah
of Jeypoor, we read the description of an excursion to the town of
Amber. Speaking of the journey to the _home of an Indian king_, among
other things the writer says:--"We passed small temples, some of them
ruined, some others with offerings of grains, or fruits, or flowers,
some with priests and people at worship. On the walls of some of the
temples we saw the marks of the human hand as though it had been steeped
in blood and pressed against the white wall. We were told that it was
the custom, when seeking from the gods some benison to note the vow by
putting the hand into a liquid and printing it on the wall. This was to
remind the gods of the vow and prayer. And if it came to pass in the
shape of rain, or food, or health, or children, the joyous devotee
returned to the temple and made other offerings." In Yucatan it seems to
have had the same meaning. That is to say: that the owners of the house
if private, or the priests, in the temples and public buildings, called
upon the edifices at the time of taking possession and using them for
the first time, the blessing of the Deity; and placed the hand's
imprints on the walls to recall the vows and prayer: and also, as the
interpretation communicated to me by the Indians seems to suggest, as a
signet or mark of property--_in naa_, my house.

I need not speak of the similarity of many religious rites and beliefs
existing in Hindostan and among the inhabitants of _Mayab_. The worship
of the fire, of the phallus, of Deity under the symbol of the mastodon's
head, recalling that of Ganeza, the god with an elephant's head, hence
that of the elephant in Siam, Birmah[TN-13] and other places of the
Asiatic peninsula even in our day; and various other coincidences so
numerous and remarkable that many would not regard them as simple
coincidences. What to think, effectively, of the types of the personages
whose portraits are carved on the obelisks of Copan? Were they in Siam
instead of Honduras, who would doubt but they are Siameeses.[TN-14] What
to say of the figures of men and women sculptured on the walls of the
stupendous temples hewn, from the live rock, at Elephanta, so American
is their appearance and features? Who would not take them to be pure
aborigines if they were seen in Yucatan instead of Madras, Elephanta and
other places of India.

If now we abandon that country and, crossing the Himalaya's range enter
Afghanistan, there again we find ourselves in a country inhabited by
Maya tribes; whose names, as those of many of their cities, are of pure
American-Maya origin. In the fourth column of the sixth page of the
London _Times_, weekly edition, of March 4, 1879, we read: "4,000 or
5,000 assembled on the opposite bank of the river _Kabul_, and it
appears that in that day or evening they attacked the Maya villages
situated on the north side of the river."

He, the correspondent of the _Times_, tells us that Maya tribes form
still part of the population of Afghanistan. He also tells us that
_Kabul_ is the name of the river, on the banks of which their villages
are situated. But _Kabul_ is the name of an antique shrine in the city
of Izamal. Cogolludo, in the lib. IV., cap. VIII. of his History of
Yucatan, says: "They had another temple on another mound, on the west
side of the square, also dedicated to the same idol. They had there the
symbol of a hand, as souvenir. To that temple they carried their dead
and the sick. They called it _Kabul_, the working hand, and made there
great offerings." Father Lizana says the same: so we have two witnesses
to the fact. _Kab_, in Maya means hand; and _Bul_ is to play at hazard.

Many of the names of places and towns of Afghanistan have not only a
meaning in the American-Maya language, but are actually the same as
those of places and villages in Yucatan to-day, for example:

The Valley of _Chenar_ would be the valley of the _well of the woman's
children_--_chen_, well, and _al_, the woman's children. The fertile
valley of _Kunar_ would be the valley of the _god of the ears of corn_;
or, more probably, the _nest of the ears of corn_: as KU, pronounced
short, means _God_, and _Kuu_, pronounced long, is nest. NAL, is the
_ears of corn_.

The correspondent of the London _Times_, in his letters, mentions the
names of some of the principal tribes, such as the _Kuki-Khel_, the
_Akakhel_, the _Khambhur Khel_, etc. The suffix Khel simply signifies
tribe, or clan. So similar to the Maya vocable _Kaan_, a tie, a rope;
hence a clan: a number of people held together by the tie of parentage.
Now, Kuki would be Kukil, or Kukum maya[TN-15] for feather, hence the
KUKI-KHEL would be the tribe of the feather.

AKA-KHEL in the same manner would be the tribe of the reservoir, or
pond. AKAL is the Maya name for the artificial reservoirs, or ponds in
which the ancient inhabitants of Mayab collected rain water for the time
of drought.

Similarly the KHAMBHUR KHEL is the tribe of the _pleasant_: _Kambul_ in
Maya. It is the name of several villages of Yucatan, as you may satisfy
yourself by examining the map.

We have also the ZAKA-KHEL, the tribe of the locust, ZAK. It is useless
to quote more for the present: enough to say that if you read the names
of the cities, valleys[TN-16] clans, roads even of Afghanistan to any of
the aborigines of Yucatan, they will immediately give you their meaning
in their own language. Before leaving the country of the Afghans, by the
KHIBER Pass--that is to say, the _road of the hawk_; HI, _hawk_, and
BEL, road--allow me to inform you that in examining their types, as
published in the London illustrated papers, and in _Harper's Weekly_, I
easily recognized the same cast of features as those of the bearded men,
whose portraits we discovered in the bas-reliefs which adorn the antae
and pillars of the castle, and queen's box in the Tennis Court at
Chichen-Itza.

On our way to the coast of Asia Minor, and hence to Egypt, we may, in
following the Mayas' footsteps, notice that a tribe of them, the learned
MAGI, with their Rabmag at their head, established themselves in
Babylon, where they became, indeed, a powerful and influential body.
Their chief they called _Rab-mag_--or LAB-MAC--the old person--LAB,
_old_--MAC, person; and their name Magi, meant learned men, magicians,
as that of Maya in India. I will directly speak more at length of
vestiges of the Mayas in Babylon, when explaining by means of the
_American Maya_, the meaning and probable etymology of the names of the
Chaldaic divinities. At present I am trying to follow the footprints of
the Mayas.

On the coast of Asia Minor we find a people of a roving and piratical
disposition, whose name was, from the remotest antiquity and for many
centuries, the terror of the populations dwelling on the shores of the
Mediterranean; whose origin was, and is yet unknown; who must have
spoken Maya, or some Maya dialect, since we find words of that
language, and with the same meaning inserted in that of the Greeks, who,
Herodotus tells us, used to laugh at the manner the _Carians_, or
_Caras_, or _Caribs_, spoke their tongue; whose women wore a white linen
dress that required no fastening, just as the Indian and Mestiza women
of Yucatan even to-day[TN-17]

To tell you that the name of the CARAS is found over a vast extension of
country in America, would be to repeat what the late and lamented
Brasseur de Bourbourg has shown in his most learned introduction to the
work of Landa, "Relacion de las cosas de Yucatan;" but this I may say,
that the description of the customs and mode of life of the people of
Yucatan, even at the time of the conquest, as written by Landa, seems to
be a mere verbatim plagiarism of the description of the customs and mode
of life of the Carians of Asia Minor by Herodotus.

If identical customs and manners, and the worship of the same divinities
under the same name, besides the traditions of a people pointing towards
a certain point of the globe as being the birth-place of their
ancestors, prove anything, then I must say that in Egypt also we meet
with the tracks of the Mayas, of whose name we again have a reminiscence
in that of the goddess Maia, the daughter of Atlantis, worshiped in
Greece. Here, at this end of the voyage, we seem to find an intimation
as to the place where the Mayas originated. We are told that Maya is
born from Atlantis; in other words, that the Mayas came from beyond the
Atlantic waters. Here, also, we find that Maia is called the mother of
the gods _Kubeles_. _Ku_, Maya _God_, _Bel_ the road, the way. Ku-bel,
the road, the origin of the gods as among the Hindostanees. These, we
have seen in the Rig Veda, called Maya, the feminine energy--the
productive virtue of Brahma.

I do not pretend to present here anything but facts, resulting from my
study of the ancient monuments of Yucatan, and a comparative study of
the Maya language, in which the ancient inscriptions, I have been able
to decipher, are written. Let us see if those _facts_ are sustained by
others of a different character.

I will make a brief parallel between the architectural monuments of the
primitive Chaldeans, their mode of writing, their burial places, and
give you the etymology of the names of their divinities in the American
Maya language.

The origin of the primitive Chaldees is yet an unsettled matter among
learned men. Some professing one opinion, others another. All agree,
however, that they were strangers to the lower Mesopotamian valleys,
where they settled in very remote ages, their capital being, in the time
of Abraham, as we learn from Scriptures, _Ur_ or _Hur_. So named either
because its inhabitants were worshipers of the moon, or from the moon
itself--U in the Maya language--or perhaps also because the founders
being strangers and guests, as it were, in the country, it was called
the city of guests, HULA (Maya), _guest just arrived_.

Recent researches in the plains of lower Mesopotamia have revealed to us
their mode of building their sacred edifices, which is precisely
identical to that of the Mayas.

It consisted of mounds composed of superposed platforms, either square
or oblong, forming cones or pyramids, their angles at times, their faces
at others, facing exactly the cardinal points.

Their manner of construction was also the same, with the exception of
the materials employed--each people using those most at hand in their
respective countries--clay and bricks in Chaldea, stones in Yucatan. The
filling in of the buildings being of inferior materials, crude or
sun-dried bricks at Warka and Mugheir; of unhewn stones of all shapes
and sizes, in Uxmal and Chichen, faced with walls of hewn stones, many
feet in thickness throughout. Grand exterior staircases lead to the
summit, where was the shrine of the god, and temple.

In Yucatan these mounds are generally composed of seven superposed
platforms, the one above being smaller than that immediately below; the
temple or sanctuary containing invariably two chambers, the inner one,
the Sanctum Sanctorum, being the smallest.

In Babylon, the supposed tower of Babel--the _Birs-i-nimrud_--the temple
of the seven lights, was made of seven stages or platforms.

The roofs of these buildings in both countries were flat; the walls of
vast thickness; the chambers long and narrow, with outer doors opening
into them directly; the rooms ordinarily let into one another: squared
recesses were common in the rooms. Mr. Loftus is of opinion that the
chambers of the Chaldean buildings were usually arched with bricks, in
which opinion Mr. Taylor concurs. We know that the ceilings of the
chambers in all the monuments of Yucatan, without exception, form
triangular arches. To describe their construction I will quote from the
description by Herodotus, of some ceilings in Egyptian buildings and
Scythian tombs, that resemble that of the brick vaults found at Mugheir.
"The side walls <DW72> outward as they ascend, the arch is formed by each
successive layer of brick from the point where the arch begins, a little
overlapping the last, till the two sides of the roof are brought so near
together, that the aperture may be closed by a single brick."

Some of the sepulchers found in Yucatan are very similar to the jar
tombs common at Mugheir. These consist of two large open-mouthed jars,
united with bitumen after the body has been deposited in them, with the
usual accompaniments of dishes, vases and ornaments, having an air hole
bored at one extremity. Those found at Progreso were stone urns about
three feet square, cemented in pairs, mouth to mouth, and having also an
air hole bored in the bottom. Extensive mounds, made artificially of a
vast number of coffins, arranged side by side, divided by thin walls of
masonry crossing each other at right angles, to separate the coffins,
have been found in the lower plains of Chaldea--such as exist along the
coast of Peru, and in Yucatan. At Izamal many human remains, contained
in urns, have been found in the mounds.

"The ordinary dress of the common people among the Chaldeans," says
Canon Rawlison, in his work, the Five Great Monarchies, "seems to have
consisted of a single garment, a short tunic tied round the waist, and
reaching thence to the knees. To this may sometimes have been added an
_abba_, or cloak, thrown over the shoulders; the material of the former
we may perhaps presume to have been linen." The mural paintings at
Chichen show that the Mayas sometimes used the same costume; and that
dress is used to-day by the aborigines of Yucatan, and the inhabitants
of the _Tierra de Guerra_. They were also bare-footed, and wore on the
head a band of cloth, highly ornamented with mother-of-pearl instead of
camel's hair, as the Chaldee. This band is to be seen in bas-relief at
Chichen-Itza, inthe[TN-18] mural paintings, and on the head of the statue
of Chaacmol. The higher classes wore a long robe extending from the neck
to the feet, sometimes adorned with a fringe; it appears not to have
been fastened to the waist, but kept in place by passing over one
shoulder, a slit or hole being made for the arm on one side of the dress
only. In some cases the upper part of the dress seems to have been
detached from the lower, and to form a sort of jacket which reached
about to the hips. We again see this identical dress portrayed in the
mural paintings. The same description of ornaments were affected by the
Chaldees and the Mayas--bracelets, earrings, armlets, anklets, made of
the materials they could procure.

The Mayas at times, as can be seen from the slab discovered by
Bresseur[TN-19] in Mayapan (an exact fac-simile of which cast, from a
mould made by myself, is now in the rooms of the American Antiquarian
Society at Worcester, Mass.), as the primitive Chaldee, in their
writings, made use of characters composed of straight lines only,
inclosed in square or oblong figures; as we see from the inscriptions in
what has been called hieratic form of writing found at Warka and
Mugheir and the slab from Mayapan and others.

The Chaldees are said to have made use of three kinds of characters that
Canon Rawlinson calls _letters proper_, _monograms_ and _determinative_.
The Maya also, as we see from the monumental inscriptions, employed
three kinds of characters--_letters proper_, _monograms_ and
_pictorial_.

It may be said of the religion of the Mayas, as I have had occasion to
remark, what the learned author of the Five Great Monarchies says of
that of the primitive Chaldees: "The religion of the Chaldeans, from the
very earliest times to which the monuments carry us back, was, in its
outward aspect, a polytheism of a very elaborate character. It is quite
possible that there may have been esoteric explanations, known to the
priests and the more learned; which, resolving the personages of the
Pantheon into the powers of nature, reconcile the apparent multiplicity
of Gods with monotheism." I will now consider the names of the Chaldean
deities in their turn of rotation as given us by the author above
mentioned, and show you that the language of the American Mayas gives us
an etymology of the whole of them, quite in accordance with their
particular attributes.


RA.

The learned author places '_Ra_' at the head of the Pantheon, stating
that the meaning of the word is simply _God_, or the God emphatically.
We know that _Ra_ was the Sun among the Egyptians, and that the
hieroglyph, a circle, representation of that God was the same in Babylon
as in Egypt. It formed an element in the native name of Babylon. Which
was _ka-ra_.

Now the Mayas called LA, that which has existed for ever, the truth _par
excellence_. As to the native name of Babylon it would simply be the
_city of the infinite truth_--_cah_, city; LA, eternal truth.


ANA OR DIS.

Ana, like Ra, is thought to have signified _God_ in the highest sense.
Its etymology seems to be problematic. His epithets mark priority and
antiquity; _the original chief_, the _father of the gods_, the _lord of
darkness or death_. The Maya gives us A, _thy_; NA, _mother_. At times
he was called DIS, and was the patron god of _Erech_, the great city of
the dead, the necropolis of Lower Babylonia. TIX, Maya is a cavity
formed in the earth. It seems to have given its name to the city of
_Niffer_, called _Calneh_ in the translation of the Septuagint, from
_kal-ana_, which is translated the "fort of Ana;" or according to the
Maya, the _prison of Ana_, KAL being prison, or the prison of thy
mother.


ANATA

the supposed wife of Ana, has no peculiar characteristics. Her name is
only, says our author, the feminine form of the masculine, Ana. But the
Maya designates her as the companion of Ana; TA, with; _Anata_ with
_Ana_.


BIL OR ENU

seems to mean merely Lord. It is usually followed by a qualificative
adjunct, possessing great interest, NIPRU. To that name, which recalls
that of NEBROTH or _Nimrod_, the author gives a Syriac etymology; napar
(make to flee). His epithets are the _supreme_, _the father of the
gods_, the _procreator_.

The Maya gives us BIL, or _Bel_; the way, the road; hence the _origin_,
the father, the procreator. Also ENA, who is before; again the father,
the procreator.

As to the qualificative adjunct _nipru_. It would seem to be the Maya
_niblu_; _nib_, to thank; LU, the _Bagre_, a _silurus fish_. _Niblu_
would then be the _thanksgiving fish_. Strange to say, the high priest
at Uxmal and Chichen, elder brother of Chaacmol, first son of _Can_, the
founder of those cities, is CAY, the fish, whose effigy is my last
discovery in June, among the ruins of Uxmal. The bust is contained
within the jaws of a serpent, _Can_, and over it, is a beautiful
mastodon head, with the trunk inscribed with Egyptian characters, which
read TZAA, that which is necessary.


BELTIS

is the wife of _Bel-nipru_. But she is more than his mere female power.
She is a separate and important deity. Her common title is the _Great
Goddess_. In Chaldea her name was _Mulita_ or _Enuta_, both words
signifying the lady. Her favorite title was the _mother of the gods_,
the origin of the gods.

In Maya BEL is the road, the way; and TE means _here_. BELTE or BELTIS
would be I am the way, the origin.

_Mulita_ would correspond to MUL-TE, many here, _many in me_. I am the
mother of many. Her other name _Enuta_ seems to be (Maya) _Ena-te_,
signifies ENA, the first, before anybody, and TE here. ENATE, _I am here
before anybody_, I am the mother of the Gods.


HEA OR HOA.

The God Fish, the mystic animal, half man, half fish, which came up from
the Persian gulf to teach astronomy and letters to the first settlers on
the Euphrates and Tigris.

According to Berosus the civilization was brought to Mesopotamia by
_Oannes_ and six other beings, who, like himself, were half man, half
fish, and that they came from the Indian Ocean. We have already seen
that the Mayas of India were not only architects, but also astronomers;
and the symbolic figure of a being half man and half fish seems to
clearly indicate that those who brought civilization to the shores of
the Euphrates and Tigris came in boats.

Hoa-Ana, or Oannes, according to the Maya would mean, he who has his
residence or house on the water. HA, being water; _a_, thy; _na_, house;
literally, _water thy house_. Canon Rawlison remarks in that
connection: "There are very strong grounds for connecting HEA or Hoa,
with the serpent of the Scripture, and the paradisaical traditions of
the tree of knowledge and the tree of life." As the title of the god of
knowledge and science, _Oannes_, is the lord of the abyss, or of the
great deep, the intelligent fish, one of his emblems being the serpent,
CAN, which occupies so conspicuous a place among the symbols of the gods
on the black stones recording benefactions.


DAV-KINA

Is the wife of _Hoa_, and her name is thought to signify the chief lady.
But the Maya again gives us another meaning that seems to me more
appropriate. TAB-KIN would be the _rays of the sun_: the rays of the
light brought with civilization by her husband to benighted inhabitants
of Mesopotamia.


SIN OR HURKI

is the name of the moon deity; the etymology of it is quite uncertain.
Its titles, as Rawlison remarks, are somewhat vague. Yet it is
particularly designated as "_the bright_, _the shining_" the lord of the
month.

Zin in Maya has also many significations. Zin is to stretch, to extend.
_Zinil_ is the extension of the whole of the universe. _Hurki_ would be
the Maya HULKIN--sun-stroked; he who receives directly the rays of the
sun. Hurki is also the god presiding over buildings and architecture; in
this connection he is called _Bel-Zuna_. The _lord of building_, the
_supporting architect_, the _strengthener of fortifications_. _Bel-Zuna_
would also signify the lord of the strong house. _Zuu_, Maya, close,
thick. _Na_, house: and the city where he had his great temple was _Ur_;
named after him. _U_, in Maya, signifies moon.


SAN OR SANSI,

the Sun God, the _lord of fire_, the _ruler of the day_. He _who
illumines the expanse of heaven and earth_.

_Zamal_ (Maya) is the morning, the dawn of the day, and his symbols are
the same on the temples of Yucatan as on those of Chaldea, India and
Egypt.


VUL OR IVA,

the prince of the powers of the air, the lord of the whirlwind and the
tempest, the wielder of the thunderbolt, the lord of the air, he who
makes the tempest to rage. Hiba in Maya is to rub, to scour, to chafe as
does the tempest. As VUL he is represented with a flaming sword in his
hand. _Hul_ (Maya) an arrow. He is then the god of the atmosphere, who
gives rain.


ISHTAR OR NANA,

the Chaldean Venus, of the etymology of whose name no satisfactory
account can be given, says the learned author, whose list I am following
and description quoting.

The Maya language, however, affords a very natural etymology. Her name
seems composed of _ix_, the feminine article, _she_; and of _tac_, or
_tal_, a verb that signifies to have a desire to satisfy a corporal want
or inclination. IXTAL would, therefore, be she who desires to satisfy a
corporal inclination. As to her other name, _Nana_, it simply means the
great mother, the very mother. If from the names of god and goddesses,
we pass to that of places, we will find that the Maya language also
furnishes a perfect etymology for them.

In the account of the creation of the world, according to the Chaldeans,
we find that a woman whose name in Chaldee is _Thalatth_, was said to
have ruled over the monstrous animals of strange forms, that were
generated and existed in darkness and water. The Greek called her
_Thalassa_ (the sea). But the Maya vocable _Thallac_, signifies a thing
without steadiness, like the sea.


URUKH.

The first king of the Chaldees was a great architect. To him are
ascribed the most archaic monuments of the plains of Lower Mesopotamia.
He is said to have conceived the plans of the Babylonian Temple. He
constructed his edifices of mud and bricks, with rectangular bases,
their angles fronting the cardinal points; receding stages, exterior
staircases, with shrines crowning the whole structure. In this
description of the primitive constructions of the Chaldeans, no one can
fail to recognize the Maya mode of building, and we see them not only in
Yucatan, but throughout Central America, Peru, even Hindoostan. The very
name _Urkuh_ seems composed of two Maya words HUK, to make everything,
and LUK, mud; he who makes everything of mud; so significative of his
building propensities and of the materials used by him.


ASSYRIA.

The etymology of the name of that country, as well as that of Asshur,
the supreme god of the Assyrians, who never pronounced his name without
adding "Asshur is my lord," is still an undecided matter amongst the
learned philologists of our days. Some contend that the country was
named after the god Asshur; others that the god Asshur received his name
from the place where he was worshiped. None agree, however, as to the
significative meaning of the name Asshur. In Assyrian and Hebrew
languages the name of the country and people is derived from that of the
god. That Asshur was the name of the deity, and that the country was
named after it, I have no doubt, since I find its etymology, so much
sought for by philologists, in the American Maya language. Effectively
the word _asshur_, sometimes written _ashur_, would be AXUL in Maya.

_A_, in that language, placed before a noun, is the possessive pronoun,
as the second person, thy or thine, and _xul_, means end, termination.
It is also the name of the sixth month of the Maya calendar. _Axul_
would therefore be _thy end_. Among all the nations which have
recognized the existence of a SUPREME BEING, Deity has been considered
as the beginning and end of all things, to which all aspire to be
united.

A strange coincidence that may be without significance, but is not out
of place to mention here, is the fact that the early kings of Chaldea
are represented on the monuments as sovereigns over the _Kiprat-arbat_,
or FOUR RACES. While tradition tells us that the great lord of the
universe, king of the giants, whose capital was _Tiahuanaco_, the
magnificent ruins of which are still to be seen on the shores of the
lake of Titicaca, reigned over _Ttahuatyn-suyu_, the FOUR PROVINCES. In
the _Chou-King_ we read that in very remote times _China_ was called by
its inhabitants _Sse-yo_, THE FOUR PARTS OF THE EMPIRE. The
_Manava-Dharma-Sastra_, the _Ramayana_, and other sacred books of
Hindostan also inform us that the ancient Hindoos designated their
country as the FOUR MOUNTAINS, and from some of the monumental
inscriptions at Uxmal it would seem that, among other names, that place
was called the land of the _canchi_, or FOUR MOUTHS, that recalls
vividly the name of Chaldea _Arba-Lisun_, the FOUR TONGUES.

That the language of the Mayas was known in Chaldea in remote ages, but
became lost in the course of time, is evident from the Book of Daniel.
It seems that some of the learned men of Judea understood it still at
the beginning of the Christian era, as many to-day understand Greek,
Latin, Sanscrit, &c.; since, we are informed by the writers of the
Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Mark, that the last words of Jesus of
Nazareth expiring on the cross were uttered in it.

In the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel, we read that the fingers of
the hand of a man were seen writing on the wall of the hall, where King
Belshazzar was banqueting, the words "Mene, mene, Tekel, upharsin,"
which could not be read by any of the wise men summoned by order of the
king. Daniel, however, being brought in, is said to have given as their
interpretation: _Numbered_, _numbered_, _weighed_, _dividing_, perhaps
with the help of the angel Gabriel, who is said by learned rabbins to be
the only individual of the angelic hosts who can speak Chaldean and
Syriac, and had once before assisted him in interpreting the dream of
King Nebuchadnezzar. Perhaps also, having been taught the learning of
the Chaldeans, he had studied the ancient Chaldee language, and was thus
enabled to read the fatidical words, which have the very same meaning in
the Maya language as he gave them. Effectively, _mene_ or _mane_,
_numbered_, would seem to correspond to the Maya verbs, MAN, to buy, to
purchase, hence to number, things being sold by the quantity--or MANEL,
to pass, to exceed. _Tekel_, weighed, would correspond to TEC, light.
To-day it is used in the sense of lightness in motion, brevity,
nimbleness: and _Upharsin_, dividing, seem allied to the words PPA, to
divide two things united; or _uppah_, to break, making a sharp sound; or
_paah_, to break edifices; or, again, PAALTAL, to break, to scatter the
inhabitants of a place.

As to the last words of Jesus of Nazareth, when expiring on the cross,
as reported by the Evangelists, _Eli, Eli_, according to St. Matthew,
and _Eloi, Eloi_, according to St. Mark, _lama sabachthani_, they are
pure Maya vocables; but have a very different meaning to that attributed
to them, and more in accordance with His character. By placing in the
mouth of the dying martyr these words: _My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me?_ they have done him an injustice, presenting him in his
last moments despairing and cowardly, traits so foreign to his life, to
his teachings, to the resignation shown by him during his trial, and to
the fortitude displayed by him in his last journey to Calvary; more than
all, so unbecoming, not to say absurd, being in glaring contradiction to
his role as God. If God himself, why complain that God has forsaken him?
He evidently did not speak Hebrew in dying, since his two mentioned
biographers inform us that the people around him did not understand what
he said, and supposed he was calling Elias to help him: _This man
calleth for Elias._

His bosom friend, who never abandoned him--who stood to the last at the
foot of the cross, with his mother and other friends and relatives, do
not report such unbefitting words as having been uttered by Jesus. He
simply says, that after recommending his mother to his care, he
complained of being thirsty, and that, as the sponge saturated with
vinegar was applied to his mouth, he merely said: IT IS FINISHED! and
_he bowed his head and gave up the ghost_. (St. John, chap. xix., v.
30.)

Well, this is exactly the meaning of the Maya words, HELO, HELO, LAMAH
ZABAC TA NI, literally: HELO, HELO, now, now; LAMAH, sinking; ZABAC,
black ink; TA, over; NI, nose; in our language: _Now, now I am sinking;
darkness covers my face!_ No weakness, no despair--He merely tells his
friends all is over. _It is finished!_ and expires.

Before leaving Asia Minor, in order to seek in Egypt the vestiges of the
Mayas, I will mention the fact that the names of some of the natives who
inhabited of old that part of the Asiatic continent, and many of those
of places and cities seem to be of American Maya origin. The Promised
Land, for example--that part of the coast of Phoenicia so famous for
the fertility of its soil, where the Hebrews, after journeying during
forty years in the desert, arrived at last, tired and exhausted from so
many hard-fought battles--was known as _Canaan_. This is a Maya word
that means to be tired, to be fatigued; and, if it is spelled _Kanaan_,
it then signifies abundance; both significations applying well to the
country.

TYRE, the great emporium of the Phoenicians, called _Tzur_, probably
on account of being built on a rock, may also derive its name from the
Maya TZUC, a promontory, or a number of villages, _Tzucub_ being a
province.

Again, we have the people called _Khati_ by the Egyptians. They formed a
great nation that inhabited the _Caele-Syria_ and the valley of the
Orontes, where they have left very interesting proofs of their passage
on earth, in large and populous cities whose ruins have been lately
discovered. Their origin is unknown, and is yet a problem to be solved.
They are celebrated on account of their wars against the Assyrians and
Egyptians, who call them the plague of Khati. Their name is frequently
mentioned in the Scriptures as Hittites. Placed on the road, between the
Assyrians and the Egyptians, by whom they were at last vanquished, they
placed well nigh insuperable _obstacles in the way_ of the conquests of
these two powerful nations, which found in them tenacious and fearful
adversaries. The Khati had not only made considerable improvements in
all military arts, but were also great and famed merchants; their
emporium _Carchemish_ had no less importance than Tyre or Carthage.
There, met merchants from all parts of the world; who brought thither
the products and manufactures of their respective countries, and were
wont to worship at the Sacred City, _Katish_ of the Khati. The etymology
of their name is also unknown. Some historians having pretended that
they were a Scythian tribe, derived it from Scythia; but I think that we
may find it very natural, as that of their principal cities, in the Maya
language.

All admit that the Khati, until the time when they were vanquished by
Rameses the Great, as recorded on the walls of his palace at Thebes, the
_Memnonium_, always placed obstacles on the way of the Egyptians and
opposed them. According to the Maya, their name is significative of
these facts, since KAT or KATAH is a verb that means to place
impediments on the road, to come forth and obstruct the passage.

_Carchemish_ was their great emporium, where merchants from afar
congregated; it was consequently a city of merchants. CAH means a city,
and _Chemul_ is navigator. _Carchemish_ would then be _cah-chemul_, the
city of navigators, of merchants.

KATISH, their sacred city, would be the city where sacrifices are
offered. CAH, city, and TICH, a ceremony practiced by the ancient Mayas,
and still performed by their descendants all through Central America.
This sacrifice or ceremony consists in presenting to BALAM, the
_Yumil-Kaax_, the "Lord of the fields," the _primitiae_ of all their
fruits before beginning the harvest. Katish, or _cah-tich_ would then be
the city of the sacrifices--the holy city.

EGYPT is the country that in historical times has called, more than any
other, the attention of the students, of all nations and in all ages, on
account of the grandeur and beauty of its monuments; the peculiarity of
its inhabitants; their advanced civilization, their great attainments in
all branches of human knowledge and industry; and its important position
at the head of all other nations of antiquity. Egypt has been said to be
the source from which human knowledge began to flow over the old world:
yet no one knows for a certainty whence came the people that laid the
first foundations of that interesting nation. That they were not
autochthones is certain. Their learned priests pointed towards the
regions of the West as the birth-place of their ancestors, and
designated the country in which they lived, the East, as the _pure
land_, the _land of the sun_, of _light_, in contradistinction of the
country of the dead, of darkness--the Amenti, the West--where Osiris sat
as King, reigning judge, over the souls.

If in Hindostan, Afghanistan, Chaldea, Asia Minor, we have met with
vestiges of the Mayas, in Egypt we will find their traces everywhere.
Whatever may have been the name given to the valley watered by the Nile
by its primitive inhabitants, no one at present knows. The invaders that
came from the West called it CHEM: not on account of the black color of
the soil, as Plutarch pretends in his work, "_De Iside et Osiride_," but
more likely because either they came to it in boats; or, quite probably,
because when they arrived the country was inundated, and the inhabitants
communicated by means of boats, causing the new comers to call it the
country of boats--CHEM (maya).[TN-20] The hieroglyph representing the
name of Egypt is composed of the character used for land, a cross
circumscribed by a circle, and of another, read K, which represent a
sieve, it is said, but that may likewise be the picture of a small boat.
The Assyrians designated Egypt under the names of MISIR or MISUR,
probably because the country is generally destitute of trees. These are
uprooted during the inundations, and then carried by the currents all
over the country; so that the farmers, in order to be able to plow the
soil, are obliged to clear it first from the dead trees. Now we have the
Maya verb MIZ--to _clean_, to _remove rubbish formed by the body of dead
trees_; whilst the verb MUSUR means to _cut the trees by the roots_. It
would seem that the name _Mizraim_ given to Egypt in the Scriptures also
might come from these words.

When the Western invaders reached the country it was probably covered by
the waters of the river, to which, we are told, they gave the name of
_Hapimu_. Its etymology seems to be yet undecided by the Egyptologists,
who agree, however, that its meaning is the _abyss of water_. The Maya
tells us that this name is composed of two words--HA, water, and PIMIL,
the thickness of flat things. _Hapimu_, or HAPIMIL, would then be the
thickness, the _abyss of water_.

