who wrote the book upon Government. I said I had the happiness
of being his son. She said she had read it and admired it very
much, that her father. Mr. Necker, had always expressed a very
high opinion of it. She next commenced upon Politics and asked
how it was possible that America should have declared war against
England. In accounting for this phenomenon I was obliged to recur
to a multitude of facts not as strongly stamped with British
generosity or British Morality as might be expected from the
character which she and the Embassador had just been assigning
that nation. The orders in council and the press gang afforded but
a sorry commentary upon the Chauvinesque defence of the liberties
of mankind and no very instructive lessons of morality. She had
nothing to say in their defence but she thought that the knights
errant of the Human race were to be allowed special indulgence and
in consideration of their cause were not to be held by the ordinary
obligations of war and peace.
“There was no probability that any arguments of mine could make
any impression upon opinions thus toned. She listened, however,
with as much complacency as could be expected to what I said and
finally asked me why I had not been to see her before. I answered
that her high reputation was calculated to inspire respect no less
than curiosity and that however desirous I had been of becoming
personally acquainted with her I had thought I could not without
indiscretion intrude myself upon her Society. The reason appeared
to please her. She said she was to leave this city the next day at
noon. She was going to Stockholm to pass the winter and then to
England. She wished to have another conversation with me before she
went and asked me to call on her the next morning.
“I readily accepted the invitation and we discussed politics again
two or three hours. I found her better conversant with Rhetoric
than with Logic. She had much to say about social order, much
about universal monarchy, much about the preservation of religion
in which she gave me to understand she did not herself believe,
and much about the ambition and supremacy of Buonaparte upon which
she soon discovered there was no difference of sentiment between
us. But why did not America join in the holy cause against the
tyrant? First because America had no means of making war against
him, she could neither attack him by sea or land. 2d because it was
a fundamental maxim of American policy never to intermeddle with
the political affairs of Europe. Thirdly because it was altogether
unnecessary. He had enemies enough upon his hands already. What!
Did not I dread his universal monarchy? Not in the least. I saw
indeed a very formidable mass of force arrayed under him, but I saw
a mass of force at least as formidable arrayed against him. Europe
contained about 100 millions of human beings. He was wielding the
means of 15 millions and the means of 85 millions were wielding
against him. It was an awful spectacle to behold the shock, but I
did not believe nor ever had believed that he would ever be able to
subjugate even the continent of Europe. If there had ever been any
real danger of such an event it was passed.
“She herself saw that there was every prospect of his being very
shortly driven out of Spain. And I was equally convinced he would
be driven out of Russia. It was the very day of the battle of
Borodino. ‘J’en accepte l’augure,’ she said. ‘Everything that
you say of him is very just. But I have particular reason for
resentment against him. I have been persecuted by him in the most
shameful manner. I was neither suffered to live anywhere nor to
go where I would have gone, all for no other reason but because I
would not eulogize him in my writings.’ As to our war with England
I told her that I deeply lamented it and yet cherished the hope
that it would not last long. That England had forced it upon
us by measures as outrageous upon the rights of an independent
nation as tyrannical as oppressive as any that could be charged
upon Buonaparte. Her pretences were retaliation and necessity.
Retaliation upon America for the wrongs of France and necessity
for man Stealing. We asked of England nothing but our indisputable
rights, but we allowed no special prerogatives to political
Quixotism. We did not consider Britain at all as the defender
of the liberties of mankind but as another Tyrant pretending to
exclusive dominion upon the ocean. A pretension full as detestable
and I trusted in God full as chimerical as the pretension of
universal monarchy upon the land.
[Illustration: MADAME DE STAËL]
“Madame de Staël was of her own opinion still but on the point of
empressment she owned that my observations were reasonable. I have
not yet found a European of any nation except the English who on
having this question in its true state brought to a precise point
had a syllable to say for the English side. In conclusion I told
her that the pretended retaliation of England had compelled us to
resort to real retaliation upon them and that as long as they felt
a necessity to fight for the practice of stealing men from American
merchant vessels on the high seas we should feel the _necessity_ of
fighting against it. I could only hope that God would prosper the
righteous cause.
“Madame de Staël charged me if I ever should be again in any place
where she should be at the same time not to neglect paying her a
visit which I very willingly promised. She left St. Petersburg
the same day. I should ask Sir Francis D’Ivernois pardon. I began
this letter with him, but whom can one help deserting for Madame
de Staël? I will return to Sir Francis by the next opportunity.
Dutifully and affectionately yours.”
[Illustration: Half-tone plate engraved by H. Davidson
MY DAUGHTER
FROM THE PAINTING BY FRANK W. BENSON
(THE CENTURY’S AMERICAN ARTISTS SERIES)]
[Illustration]
SIGIRIYA
“THE LIONS’ ROCK” OF CEYLON
BY JENNIE COKER GAY
WITH PICTURES BY DUNCAN GAY
“And after that, that wicked ruler of men (Kassapa) sent his groom
and his cook to his brother (Moggallana) to kill him. And finding
that he could not fulfil his purpose, he feared danger, and took
himself to Sihagiri rock, that was hard for men to climb. He
cleared it round about and surrounded it by a rampart, and built
galleries in it ornamented with figures of lions; wherefore it took
its name of Sihagiri (‘The Lions’ Rock’). Having gathered together
all his wealth, he buried it there carefully, and set guards over
the treasures he had buried in divers places. He built there a
lovely palace, splendid to behold....
“He planted gardens at the gates of the city.... He observed the
sacred days ... and caused books to be written. He made many
images, alms-houses, and the like; but he lived on in fear of the
world to come and of Moggallana.”[21]
That is what history has to say about the founding of Sigiriya (or
“Sihagiri,” as it is called in “The Mihavansa,”) and all that it has to
say; just enough to arouse our interest, and not enough to satisfy it.
At Anuradhpura we had come across numerous traces of Kassapa’s father,
Dhatusena, who was counted a great king when he ruled Ceylon fifteen
hundred years ago. And we were curious to see the place where Kassapa
had sought safety after he had killed Dhatusena and usurped the
throne, and had been forced to flee into the jungle for fear of his
brother Moggallana; so we decided to follow this bold, wild patricide
to his hiding-place not by the exact trail that he took, for no one
knows by what roundabout wandering he finally reached the rock, but by
the more modern and convenient, if somewhat dustier, way that leads
along the iron rails of the Ceylon Government railroad.
Sigiriya is southeast of Anuradhpura, and only about fifty miles away
from it in a direct line; but around by way of Kandy, as we purposed
to go, it is fully three times that far. It lies just north of the
mountainous center of Ceylon at the edge of the great plain that
stretches on the one hand to the Indian Ocean and on the other to the
small waters that separate the island from the Indian peninsula.
A long, hot ride through the western lowlands brought us to
Polgahawela, where the road we were to follow diverges at a right angle
from the main line, and we began to climb the magnificent mountains;
past rice-fields, so substantially terraced up the sides of the hills
that they looked like monstrous and never-ending fortifications; past
forests of palms and masses of brilliant flowers; past the world-famed
botanical gardens of Peradeniya, until just at dusk we came into the
lovely town of Kandy, which seemed delightfully fresh and cool after
the heaviness and heat of the plains. Beyond Kandy the road began to
descend again, until at Matale it suddenly came to an end, and we were
obliged to look out for some less-modern conveyance for the continuance
of our journey.
[Illustration: SIGIRIYA ROCK]
On the northeast coast of the island is a little place called
Trincomali. For the convenience of this village and the scattered
native settlements that lie between, a daily coaching service is
maintained, and this we found we might take as far as Dambolo. The
vehicle that was called a coach had a seat in front for the Cingalese
driver and the mail-bags, and behind this, two lengthwise seats
facing each other, which on a pinch could hold six persons, three on
a side. Into this conveyance we climbed; in climbed also a shiny,
round-headed Tamil, two wild-looking, magnificently dressed gentlemen
from Afghanistan, and a mild and smiling Mohammedan. All the morning
we rode, and at noon we changed horses and took lunch at a wayside
rest-house. The Afghans left us here, and I felt more comfortable,
for their mustaches curled in such a terribly fierce way, and their
remarkable costumes offered such unlimited opportunity for the carrying
of concealed weapons, as to warrant a certain uneasiness. We alighted
at Dambolo, and the stage went on and left us. And yet Dambolo is a
long way from Sigiriya--a long, long way in point of time.
The little rest-house that the Government places wherever one wishes
to spend the night took us in and gave us a room, and its Mohammedan
keeper advised us to use the rest of the afternoon seeing the rock
temples that have made Dambolo famous. Obediently we went to visit
these gorgeously decorated caverns, but, I am sorry to confess, they
gave me no pleasure. They are wonderful, or would be if one were given
an opportunity to look at them in peace and quiet; but one cannot
wonder or admire or enjoy, or do anything but fume, with dozens of
sleek yellow priests hanging about and holding out hands for Money!
money!” at the opening of every door and at the entrance and exit of
every cavern. This is a nuisance that the Government most certainly
should correct, for it spoils the enjoyment of many of the island’s
remarkable ruins.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE WESTERN PORTION OF THE GALLERY LEADING TO
THE CITADEL OF SIGIRIYA]
We came down from the caves rather discouraged, but were somewhat
cheered when we looked upon the decorations of the table that had been
set for our dinner. An elaborate design was traced on the table-cloth
by a sprinkling of rice that had been dyed a bright pink. The very
holes in the cloth, and these were numerous, were turned into part
of the decoration; for they were made the centers of flowers or the
eyes of a bird, and one triangular rent formed the roof of a little
cottage. The keeper of the rest-house, who seemed to be cook, waiter,
and chambermaid, told us as he served the rice and chicken that he had
engaged a bullock-cart to take us the rest of the way. It was late the
next morning before the bullock, the cart, and the driver appeared at
our door. A bullock about the size of a three-months’-old calf, an
equally tiny cart, with an arched cover woven of split bamboo, and of
course without a suggestion of springs, and a Tamil driver, his head
tied up in the brightest of handkerchiefs, and with the ubiquitous
sarong (only it is not called a sarong in Ceylon) dangling about his
heels, made up our equipment for the last stage of the journey.
[Illustration: THE AUDIENCE-HALL ROCK]
The fabled tortoise was an animal of speed compared with that bullock.
Had we made an earlier start, I am sure we could have walked the whole
way; but the terrible sun made walking impossible, and we were forced
to keep huddled down under the cart’s protecting thatch. We could count
the seconds while the little animal seemed to stand poised after each
step. Even twisting his tail did little good, and beating none at all.
Along each side of the road the jungle formed a solid wall too dense
for beauty. Occasionally a bright-plumed bird peeped out through the
trees, and once a small panther-like animal showed himself at the
roadside, and our bullock actually ran until he was well away from the
danger.
[Illustration: ONE OF THE ENTRANCES TO THE GALLERY LEADING TO SIGIRIYA]
We were hot and dusty and tired when at last we came in sight of
Sigiriya, but in the presence of the strange impressiveness of this
enormous rock, heat, dust, and weariness passed from our thoughts like
a dream. It rose, this great shaft of granite, high above the trees,
like some enormous mushroom sprung suddenly from the dank flatness of
the jungle. Against the dusty green of the surrounding forest and the
burned-out blue of the pale, hot sky its simple and majestic outline
showed clean and sharp. But past all understanding was the brilliance
of coloring that marked its walls. In the glare of the declining sun
it looked as though a mighty battle had been fought upon the level
crown, and the blood of thousands of warriors had spilled and trickled
over the edge and down the cliff, and so set an indelible mark of
fierceness and anger on the face of this somber jungle monster.
At first we could see no evidence of past human occupation; but by and
by, as we drew nearer, we were able to detect a little spiral line,
broken here and there, that seemed to be wound about the face of the
cliff. What concerned us more at the time, however, was that we could
see no signs of present human habitation, and we were in sore need,
after the jolt, jolt, jolt of our wretched little cart, of food and a
place where we might sleep. Our Tamil driver, while he belabored his
bullock to make him hurry, had been telling us of the elephants and
tigers that lived out here in the jungle, and we could easily see for
ourselves that the woods were thick enough to shelter a whole menagerie
of animals; so it was with the greatest relief that we presently saw
a little rest-house in front of us, and leaving the small bullock and
his black driver to come as they pleased, we took to our own feet and
hurried on to the protecting inclosure. After a long rest and a long
good supper, we took our “Mihavansa,” and, there under the brow of the
great “Lions’ Rock,” read again the strange, fragmentary history of
Kassapa and his crime.
“ ... And he (Dhatusena) had two sons,--Kassapa, whose mother was
unequal in rank to his father, and Moggallana, a mighty man, whose
mother was of equal rank with his father. Likewise also he had a
beautiful daughter, who was as dear unto him as his own life. And
he gave her to wife unto his sister’s son, to whom also he gave
the office of chief of the army. And he (the nephew) scourged her
on the thighs, albeit there was no fault in her. And when the king
saw that his daughter’s cloth was stained with blood, he learned
the truth and was wroth, and caused his nephew’s mother to be
burnt naked. From that time forth the nephew bare malice against
the king; and he joined himself unto Kassapa, and tempted him to
seize the kingdom and betray his father. And then he gained over
the people, and caused the king his father to be taken alive. And
Kassapa raised the canopy of dominion after that he had destroyed
the men of the king’s party and received the support of the wicked
men in the kingdom. Thereupon Moggallana endeavored to make war
against him. But he could not obtain a sufficient force, and
proceeded to the Continent of India with the intent to raise an
army there.
“And that he might the more vex the king, who was now sorely
afflicted ... this wicked general spake to Kassapa the king,
saying, ‘O king, the treasures of the royal house are hidden by
thy father.’ And when the king said unto him, ‘Nay,’ he answered,
saying, ‘Knowest thou not, O Lord of the land, the purpose of this
thy father? He treasureth up the riches for Moggallana.’ And when
the base man heard these words he was wroth, and sent messengers
unto his father, saying, ‘Reveal the place where thou hast hid the
treasure.’ Thereupon the king thought to himself, saying: ‘This
is a device whereby the wretch seeketh to destroy us’; and he
remained silent. And they (the messengers) went and informed the
king thereof. And his anger was yet more greatly increased, and he
sent the messengers back unto him again and again. Then the king
(Dhatusena) thought to himself, saying, ‘It is well that I should
die after that I have seen my friend and washed myself in the
Kalavapi.’ So he told the messengers saying, ‘Now, if he will cause
me to be taken to Kalavapi, then shall I be able to find out the
treasure.’
“And when they went and told the king thereof he was exceedingly
glad, because that he desired greatly to obtain the treasure, and
he sent the messengers back to his father with a chariot. And while
the king, with his eyes sunk in grief, proceeded on the journey to
Kalavapi, the charioteer who drove the chariot gave him some of the
roasted rice that he ate....
“And when his friend, the Elder, heard that the king was coming,
he preserved and set apart a rich meal of beans with the flesh of
water-fowls that he had obtained, saying, ‘The king loveth this
sort of meat.’ ...
“Then the king went up to the tank, and after that he had plunged
therein and bathed and drank of its water as it pleased him, he
turned to the king’s servants and said, ‘O friends, this is all
the treasure that I possess!’ And when the king’s servants heard
these words they took him back to the city and informed the king.
Then the chief of men was exceeding wroth and said, ‘This man
hoardeth up riches for his son; and so long as he liveth will
he estrange the people of the island from me.’ And he commanded
the chief of the army, saying, ‘Kill my father.’ Thereupon he
(the general), who hated him exceedingly, was greatly delighted
and said, ‘Now have I seen the last of my enemy.’ And he arrayed
himself in all his apparel, and went up to the king, and walked
to and fro before him.... Then this violent man stripped the king
naked, and bound him with chains inside the walls of his prison
with his face to the east and caused it to be plastered up with
clay. What wise man, therefore, after that he hath seen such
things, will covet riches, or life, or glory!”
Kassapa was most certainly a wicked man,--the reading of “The
Mihavansa” leaves no doubt of that,--but when we came next day to look
over the remains of his city and to study this formidable rock that
he had subjugated and turned into a citadel, we knew that he was also
a man of genius. When he found that he was in danger from his brother
Moggallana, whom he had attempted in vain to kill, he led his host of
half-naked warriors out from the ancient capital of Anuradhpura into
the jungle, seeking for a refuge. Whether design or accident led him to
Sigiriya we do not know, but we do know that once having looked upon
its four hundred feet of towering walls and upon its uplifted acres, he
had the wisdom to see its possibilities and the genius to overcome the
difficulties, to an ordinary man the impossibilities, of the situation.
I dare say the abundance of his need helped his genius to speak; but
no matter what his incentive, when he conceived the notion of building
against this gigantic, cylindrical rock a spiral gallery which would
place at his disposal the four flat acres that crowned the summit, he
laid claim to the respect and admiration of ages.
The sides of the rock, which we had at first supposed to be
perpendicular, are really concave, and perhaps it would be more exact
to speak of this gallery as being built into, rather than against,
the mighty column. With such surpassing genius is it placed that it
literally makes itself one with the rock it embraces. To gain some sort
of foothold for the masonry, deep grooves were cut in the face of the
cliff, and from these a wall of brick and mortar was erected, and this
in turn supported the great limestone blocks which form the surface of
the road. This roadway was wide enough for four men to walk abreast,
and was protected by a wall nine feet high.
It is hard to emphasize sufficiently the wild boldness of the
conception and achievement. From base to summit the splendid gallery
mounted. Breaking the gentle slope here and there to lift itself
suddenly by a short flight of stairs, buttressed at one too abrupt
corner, snuggling at places under the brow of the rock, and at the one
terrace that breaks the height on the north side, it rose in direct
steps between the paws and up through the body of a great masonry
lion that Kassapa had built against the cliff. Finally it sought out
the only place where the top does not overhang the sides for its last
hurried dash before flinging itself triumphantly over the edge of the
summit.
The walls of this gallery were finished with some smooth, shining white
cement. It must have looked, when it was all in place, like a huge,
gleaming serpent wound about the face of the rock. Of course at the
present day much of it, indeed most of it, has fallen away; but the
fact that, despite the washing rains that for many years have come
pouring over the sides of the rock, one hundred yards of it remains in
almost perfect condition is proof of its splendid construction. For
the rest of the way the gallery can be traced by the deep grooves that
supported its base.
When, with the help of these grooves and the protecting bars that the
Government has kindly placed to give the adventurous traveler at least
a chance to reach the summit in safety, we had climbed to the very top,
we understood at last the unnatural markings on the face of the cliff
that had before puzzled us. Kassapa built his citadel of bright-red
brick. The whole crown of the rock was covered with his palaces, and
after they had fallen and crumbled, the heavy rains smeared the walls
with great streaks and patches of this brilliant stain.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE TOPMOST PORTION OF THE INNER CITY OF
SIGIRIYA. (BASED ON A CEYLON GOVERNMENT SURVEY MAP)
The right-hand side of the map is the north side, the top is the west.]
The ground that lies at the base of the rock is not less interesting
than that upon its summit. Over the wooded sides of the little hill
that culminates in the great shaft, and spreading out into the jungle
about its foot, are the remains of the city that Kassapa built for his
army and followers. A strange city it must have been. The main houses
were of brick with tiled roofs, but these more formal dwellings were
supplemented by semi-caves tucked under the sides of every available
boulder. All the large stones show notches, cut evidently to hold the
ends of rafters and roof-beams. Up many of the highest boulders steps
have been hewn, possibly to make them accessible as watch-towers,
and at almost every turn one comes upon the indispensable cistern
that made living through the long dry season possible. Some of these
reservoirs were hewn out of solid stone, but most were built of brick
and cement, and the one little stream in the neighborhood was dammed
to form a large pond, which even now lies like a lake at the foot of
the little hill. So there was an outer city interspersed with gardens,
an inner city set on innumerable terraces up the slope of the hill,
and surmounting all, lifted four hundred feet above the crest of the
hill on its gigantic pedestal, stood the king’s palace and citadel. And
about all the city Kassapa built great protecting walls. So three times
over Kassapa fortified himself.