"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep."
--PARADISE LOST.
Was I dreaming, or was the vision real, that my eyes beheld? This was
the first calm thought that coursed through my brain, after the terror
and amazement had subsided. Awe-struck I certainly was, when the
beautiful phantom first rose upon my sight, at Castillo; awe-struck once
more, when she again appeared, amid the gray old rains of _Casa Grande_.
I have listened very often to the surmises of others, as they detailed
what _they_ would do, were a supernatural being to rise up suddenly
before them. Some have said, they would gaze deliberately into the face
of the phantom, scan its every feature, and coolly note down, for the
benefit of others, how long it "walked," and in what manner it faded
from the sight. The nerves of these very men trembled while they spoke,
and had an apparition burst at that instant into full view, these heroes
in imagination would have crouched and hid their faces, their teeth
chattering with terror, and their hearts beating their swelling sides,
as audibly as the convict hears his own when the hangman draws the black
cap over his unrepentant head.
I blame no man for yielding to the dictates of Nature. He is but a fool
who feels no fear, and hears not a warning in the wind, observes not a
sign in the heavens, and perceives no admonition in the air, when
hurricanes are brooding, clouds are gathering, or earthquakes muttering
in his ears. The sane mind listens, and thwarts danger by its
apprehensions.
The true hero is not the man who knows no fear--for that were
idiotic--but he who sees it, and escapes it, or meets it bravely. Was it
courage in the elder Pliny to venture so closely to the crater of
Vesuvius, whilst in eruption, that he lost his life? How can man make
war with the elements, or battle with his God?
There is, in the secret chambers of every human heart, one dark weird
cell, over whose portal is inscribed--MYSTERY. There Superstition sits
upon her throne; there Idolatry shapes her monsters, and there Religion
reveals her glories. Within that cell, the soul communes with itself
most intimately, confesses its midnight cowardice, and in low whispers
mutters its dread of the supernatural.
All races, all nations, and all times have felt its influences, oozing
like imperceptible dews from the mouth of that dark cavern.
Vishnu heard its deep mutterings in the morning of our race, and they
still sound hollow but indistinct, like clods upon a coffin-lid, along
the wave of each generation, as it rises and rolls into the past. Plato
and Numa and Cicero and Brutus listened to its prophetic cadences, as
they fell upon their ears. Mohammed heard them in his cave, Samuel
Johnson in his bed. Poets have caught them in the
"Shivering whisper of startled leaves,"
martyrs in the crackling faggots, heroes amid the din of battle.
If you ask, what means this voice? I reply,
"A solemn murmur in the soul
_Tells of the world to be_,
As travelers hear the billows roll
Before they reach the sea."
Let no man, therefore, boast that he has no dread of the supernatural.
When mortal can look spirit in the face, without blanching, man will be
immortal.
# # # # #
To convince myself that I did not dream, I rose upon my elbow, and
reclined for a moment in that attitude. Gradually I gained my feet, and
then stood confronting the Aztec maiden. The midnight breeze of the
tropics had set in, and by the clear moonlight I distinctly saw the
_panache_ of feathers that she wore upon her head swaying gracefully
upon the air.
Convinced now, beyond all doubt, that the scene was real, the ruling
desire of my life came back in full force upon me, and I spoke, in a
hoarse whisper, the following words:
"Here lies a buried realm; I would be its historian!"
The apparition, without any reply in words, glided toward me, and
approached so close that I could easily have touched her had I dared.
But a sense of propriety subdued all unhallowed curiosity, and I
determined to submit passively to all that my new friend should do. This
state of mind seemed at once known to her, for she smiled approvingly,
and came still nearer to where I stood.
Elevating her beautiful arm, she passed it gently over my face, her hand
just touching my features, and imparting a cool sensation to my skin. I
distinctly remember that the hand felt damp. No sooner was this done
than my nervous system seemed to be restored to its usual tone, and
every sensation of alarm vanished.
My brain began to feel light and swimmy, and my whole frame appeared to
be losing its weight. This peculiar sensation gradually increased in
intensity until full conviction flashed upon me that I could, by an
effort of will, rise into the air, and fly with all the ease and
rapidity of an eagle.
The idea was no sooner fully conceived, than I noticed a wavy, unsteady
motion in the figure of the Aztec Princess, and almost immediately
afterwards, I perceived that she was gradually rising from the broken
pavement upon which she had been standing, and passing slowly upwards
through the branches of the overshadowing trees. What was most
remarkable, the relative distance between us did not seem to increase,
and my amazement was inconceivable, when on casting my eyes toward my
feet, I perceived that I was elevated more than twenty yards from the
pavement where I had slept.
My ascent had been so gradual, that I was entirely unaware of moving,
and now that I became sensible of it, the motion itself was still
imperceptible. Upward, still upward, I was carried, until the tallest
limbs of the loftiest trees had been left far below me. Still the ascent
continued. A wide and beautiful panorama now opened before me. Above,
all was flashing moonlight and starry radiance. The beams of the full
moon grew more brilliant as we cleared the vapory atmosphere contiguous
to the earth, until they shone with half the splendor of morn, and
glanced upon the features of my companion with a mellow sheen, that
heightened a thousandfold her supermundane beauty. Below, the gray old
relics of a once populous capital glimmered spectrally in the distance,
looking like tombs, shrouded by a weeping forest; whilst one by one, the
mourners lost their individuality, and ere long presented but a dark
mass of living green. After having risen several hundred feet
perpendicularly, I was enabled to form an estimate of the extent of the
forest, in the bosom of which sleep and moulder the monuments of the
aboriginal Americans. There is no such forest existing elsewhere on the
surface of this great globe. It has no parallel in nature. The Black
Forest of Germany, the Thuringian Forest of Saxony, the Cross Timbers of
Texas, the dense and inaccessible woods cloaking the headwaters of the
Amazon and the La Plata, are mere parks in comparison. For miles and
miles, leagues and leagues, it stretched out--north, south, east and
west. It covers an area larger than the island of Great Britain; and
throughout this immense extent of country there is but one mountain
chain, and but one river. The summits of this range have been but seldom
seen by white men, and have never been scaled. The river drains the
whole territory, but loses itself in a terrific marsh before its tide
reaches the Mexican gulf, toward which it runs. The current is
exceedingly rapid; and, after passing for hundreds of miles under the
land and under the sea, it unites its submarine torrent near the west
end of Cuba, with that of the Orinoco and the Amazon, and thus forms
that great oceanic river called the Gulf Stream. Professor Maury was
right in his philosophic conjecture as to the origin of that mighty and
resistless tide.
Having attained a great height perpendicularly above the spot of our
departure, we suddenly dashed off with the speed of an express
locomotive, toward the northeast.
Whither we were hastening, I knew not; nor did I trouble my mind with
any useless conjectures. I felt secure in the power of my companion, and
sure of her protection. I knew that by some unaccountable process she
had neutralized the gravitating force of a material body, had elevated
me hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet in the atmosphere, and by some
mysterious charm was attracting me toward a distant bourne. Years
before, whilst a medical student at the University of Louisiana, the
professor of _materia medica_ had opened his course of lectures with an
inquiry into the origin and essence of gravitation, and I had listened
respectfully, but at that time doubtingly, to the theory he propounded.
He stated that it was not unphilosophical to believe that the time would
arrive when the gravitating power of dense bodies would be overcome, and
balloons constructed to navigate the air with the same unerring
certainty that ships traversed the ocean.
He declared that gravitation itself was not a _cause_ but an _effect_;
that it might be produced by the rotation of the earth upon its axis, or
by some undiscovered current of electricity, or by some recondite and
hitherto undetected agent or force in nature. Magnetism he thought a
species of electricity, and subsequent investigations have convinced me
that _sympathy_ or _animal magnetism_ was akin to the same parent power.
By means of this latter agent I had seen the human body rendered so
light that two persons could raise it with a single finger properly
applied. More than this, I had but recently witnessed at Castillo, dead
matter clothed with life and motion, and elevated several feet into the
air without the aid of any human agency. This age I knew well to be an
age of wonders. Nature was yielding up her secrets on every hand; the
boundary between the natural and the spiritual had been broken down; new
worlds were flashing upon the eyes of the followers of Galileo almost
nightly from the ocean depths of space. Incalculable treasures had been
discovered in the most distant ends of the earth, and I, unlettered hind
that I was, did not presume to limit the power of the great Creator, and
because an act seemed impossible to my narrow vision, and within my
limited experience, to cry aloud, _imposture_, or to mutter sneeringly,
_insanity_.
Before proceeding farther with the thread of this narrative, the
attention of the reader is solicited to the careful perusal of the
following extracts from Stephens's _Travels in Central America, Chiapas
and Yucatan_, published at New York in 1841.
But the Padre told us more; something that increased our
excitement to the highest pitch. On the other side of the great
traversing range of Cordilleras lies the district of Vera Paz,
once called Tierra de Guerra, or land of war, from the warlike
character of its aboriginal inhabitants. Three times the
Spaniards were driven back in their attempt to conquer it.[A-133]
The rest of the Tierra de Guerra never was conquered; and at this
day the northeastern section bounded by the range of the
Cordilleras and the State of Chiapa is occupied by Cadones, or
unbaptized Indians, who live as their fathers did, acknowledging
no submission to the Spaniards, and the government of Central
America does not pretend to exercise any control over them. But
the thing that roused us was the assertion by the Padre that four
days on the road to Mexico, on the other side of the Great
Sierra, was a LIVING CITY, large and populous, occupied by
Indians, precisely in the same state as before the discovery of
America. He had heard of it many years before, at the village of
Chajal, and was told by the villagers that from the topmost
ridge of the Sierra this city was distinctly visible. He was then
young, and with much labor climbed to the naked summit of the
Sierra, from which, at a height of ten or twelve thousand feet,
he looked over an immense plain extending to Yucatan and the Gulf
of Mexico, and saw at a great distance a large city, spread over
a great space, and with turrets white and glittering in the sun.
The traditionary account of the Indians of Chajal is, that no
white man has ever reached the city; that the inhabitants speak
the Maya language; are aware that a race of strangers has
conquered the whole country around, and murder any white man who
attempts to enter their territory. They have no coin or other
circulating medium; no horses, cattle, mules, or other domestic
animals, except fowls, and the cocks they keep under ground to
prevent their crowing being heard.[B-134]
[Footnote A-133: Page 193, Vol. 2.]
[Footnote B-134: Ibid. Page 195.]
Mr. Stephens then adds:
One look at that city is worth ten years of an every-day life. If
he is right, a place is left where Indians and an Indian city
exist as Cortez and Alvarado found them. There are living men who
can solve the mystery that hangs over the ruined cities of
America; perhaps, who can go to Copan and Palenque and read the
inscriptions on their monuments.
* * * * *
The moon, long past the meridian, was sinking slowly to her western
goal, whilst the east was already beginning to blush and redden with the
dawn. Before us rose high and clear three distinct mountain peaks,
covered with a mantle of snow. I began to tremble with cold. But our
pace did not slacken, nor our altitude diminish. On the contrary, we
began to rise gradually, until we found ourselves nearly upon a level
with the three peaks. Selecting an opening or gap betwixt the two
westernmost, we glided through like the wind. I shivered and my teeth
chattered as we skimmed along those everlasting snows. Here, thought I,
the condor builds his nest in summer, and the avalanches find a home.
The eagle's wing has not strength enough to battle with this thin and
freezing atmosphere, and no living thing but "the proud bird, the condor
of the Andes," ever scaled these hoary summits. But our descent had
already commenced. Gradually, as the morning broke, the region of ice
and snow was left behind us, and just as the first ray of the rising sun
shot over the peaks we had but a moment before surmounted, I beheld,
glittering in the dim and shadowy distance, the white walls of a
magnificent city. An exclamation of surprise and pleasure involuntarily
escaped my lips; but one glance at my companion checked all further
utterance. She raised her rounded forefinger to her lip, and made a
gesture, whose purport I well understood.
We swept over forests and cornfields and vineyards, the city growing
upon the vision every moment, and rising like the Mexican capital, when
first beheld by Europeans from the bosom of a magnificent lake. Finally,
we found ourselves immediately above it, and almost at the same moment,
began to descend. In a few seconds I stood alone, in a large open space,
surrounded upon all sides by lofty stone edifices, erected upon huge
pyramidal structures, that resembled the forest-covered mounds at
Palenque. The day had fully dawned, but I observed no inhabitants.
Presently a single individual appeared upon one of the towers near me,
and gave a loud, shrill whistle, such as we sometimes hear in crowded
theatres. In an instant it was echoed and re-echoed a thousand times,
upon every side, and immediately the immense city seemed to be awake, as
if by magic. They poured by thousands into the open square, where I
stood petrified with astonishment. Before me, like a vision of
midnight, marched by, in almost countless throngs, battalion on
battalion of a race of men deemed and recorded extinct by the wisest
historians.
They presented the most picturesque appearance imaginable, dressed
apparently in holiday attire, and keeping step to a low air, performed
on instruments emitting a dull, confused sound, that seldom rose so as
to be heard at any great distance.
They continued promenading the square, until the first level ray of
sunshine fell upon the great Teocallis--as it was designated by the
Spaniards--then with unanimous action they fell upon their faces,
striking their foreheads three times upon the mosaic pavement. Just as
they rose to their feet, I observed four persons, most gorgeously
dressed, descending the steps of the Temple, bearing a palanquin, in
which sat a single individual. My attention was at once arrested by her
appearance, for she was a woman. She was arrayed in a _panache_, or
head-dress, made entirely of the plumage of the _Quezale_, the royal
bird of Quiche. It was by far the most tasteful and becoming ornament to
the head I ever beheld, besides being the most magnificent. It is
impossible to describe the graceful movement of those waving plumes, as
they were stirred by the slightest inclination of the head, or the
softest aspiration of the breeze. But the effect was greatly heightened
by the constant change of color which they underwent. Blue and crimson,
and orange and gold, were so blended that the eye was equally dazzled
and delighted. But the utmost astonishment pervaded me, when, upon
closely scrutinizing her features, I thought I recognized the beautiful
face of the Aztec Princess. Little leisure, however, was afforded me for
this purpose, for no sooner had her subjects, the assembled thousands,
bowed with deferential respect to their sovereign, than a company of
drilled guards marched up to where I stood, and unresistingly made me
prisoner.
It is useless to attempt a full description of the imposing ceremony I
had witnessed, or to portray the appearance of those who took the most
prominent parts. Their costume corresponded precisely with that of the
figures in _bas-relief_ on the sculptured monuments at Palenque. Each
wore a gorgeous head-dress, generally of feathers, carried an instrument
decorated with ribbons, feathers and skins, which appeared to be a
war-club, and wore huge sashes of yellow, green, or crimson cotton
cloth, knotted before and behind, and falling in graceful folds almost
to the ground.
Hitherto not a word had been spoken. The ceremony I had witnessed was a
religious one, and was at once interpreted by me to be the worship of
the sun. I remembered well that the ancient Peruvians were heliolaters,
and my imagination had been dazzled when but a child by the gorgeous
description given by the historian Robertson, of the great Temple of the
Sun at Cuzco. There the Incas had worshiped the God of Day from the
period when Manco Capac came from the distant Island of Oello, and
taught the native Indians the rudiments of civilization, until the life
of the last scion of royal blood was sacrificed to the perfidy of the
Spanish invaders. These historical facts had long been familiar to my
mind; but I did not recollect any facts going to show that the ancient
Aztecs were likewise heliolaters; but further doubt was now impossible.
In perfect silence I was hurried up the stone steps of the great
Teocallis, toward the palace erected upon its summit, into whose broad
and lofty corridors we soon entered. These we traversed in several
directions, leaving the more outward and gradually approaching the
heart or central apartments.
Finally, I was ushered into one of the most magnificently decorated
audience-chambers that the eye of man ever beheld.
We were surrounded by immense tablets of _bas-reliefs_ sculptured in
white and black marble, and presenting, evidently, a connected history
of the ancient heroes of the race. Beside each tablet triple rows of
hieroglyphics were carved in the solid stone, unquestionably giving in
detail the history of the hero or chief whose likeness stood near them.
Many of these appeared to be females, but, judging from the sceptre each
carried, I was persuaded that the old _Salique_ law of France and other
European nations never was acknowledged by the aboriginal Americans.
The roof was high, and decorated with the plumage of the Quezale and
other tropical birds, whilst a throne was erected in the centre of the
apartment, glittering in gold and silver ornaments, hung about with
beautiful shells, and lined with the skins of the native leopard,
prepared in the most exquisite style.
Seated upon a throne, I recognized the princess whose morning devotions
I had just witnessed. At a gesture, I was carried up close to the foot
of the throne.
After closely inspecting her features, I satisfied myself that she was
not the companion of my mysterious journey, being several years older in
appearance, and of a darker complexion. Still, there was a very striking
resemblance between them, and it was evident that they not only belonged
to the same race, but to the same family. I looked up at her with great
respect, anticipating some encouraging word or sign. But instead of
speaking, she commenced a low, melodious whistle, eying me intently
during the whole time. Ceasing, she evidently anticipated some reply on
my part, and I at once accosted her in the following terms:
"Most beautiful Princess, I am not voluntarily an invader of your realm.
I was transported hither in a manner as mysterious as it was unexpected.
Teach me but to read these hieroglyphics, and I will quit your
territories forever."
A smile flitted across the features of the Princess as I uttered these
words; and she gave an order, by a sharp whistle, to an officer that
stood near, who immediately disappeared. In a few moments, he returned,
bringing with him a native dressed very coarsely in white cotton cloth,
and who carried an empty jar, or water tank, upon his head. He was
evidently a laborer, and, judging from the low obeisances he constantly
made, much to the amusement of the courtiers standing around, I am
satisfied that he never before in his whole life had been admitted to
the presence of his sovereign.
Making a gesture to the officer who had introduced him, he spoke a few
low words to the native, who immediately turned toward me, and uttered,
slowly and distinctly, the following sentence:
"Ix-itl hua-atl zi-petl poppicobatl."
I shook my head despairingly. Several other attempts to communicate with
me were made, both by the Princess and the interpreter, but all to no
purpose. I could neither understand the melodies nor the jargon. But I
noticed throughout all these proceedings that there seemed to be two
entirely distinct modes of expression; the first by whistling, and the
second by utterance. The idea at once flashed across my mind, that there
were two languages used in the country--one sacred to the blood royal
and the nobility, and the other used by the common people. Impressed
with this thought, I immediately set about verifying it by experiment.
It is unnecessary to detail the ingenious methods I devised to ascertain
this fact. It is sufficient for the present purposes of this narrative
to state, that, during the day, I was abundantly satisfied with the
truth of my surmise; and that, before night, I learned another fact,
equally important, that the hieroglyphics were written in the royal
tongue, and could be read only by those connected by ties of blood with
the reigning family.
There was at first something ludicrous in the idea of communicating
thought by sound emitted in the way indicated above. In my wildest
dreams, the notion of such a thing being possible had never occurred to
my imagination. And when the naked fact was now demonstrated to me every
moment, I could scarcely credit my senses. Still, when I reflected that
night upon it, after I retired to rest, the system did not appear
unnatural, nor even improbable. Birds, I knew, made use of the same
musical tongue; and when but a boy, on the shores of the distant
Albemarle, I had often listened, till long after midnight, to the
wonderful loquacity of the common mocking-bird, as she poured forth her
summer strains. Who has not heard the turtle dove wooing her mate in
tones that were only not human, because they were more sadly beautiful?
Many a belated traveler has placed his hand upon his sword-hilt, and
looked suspiciously behind him, as the deep bass note of the owl has
startled the dewy air. The cock's crow has become a synonym for a pæan
of triumph.
Remembering all those varieties in sound that the air is capable of,
when _cut_, as it were, by whistling, I no longer doubted that a
language could easily be constructed by analyzing the several tones and
giving value to their different modulations.
The ludicrousness of the idea soon gave place to admiration, and before
I had been domiciliated in the palace of the Princess a month, I had
become perfectly infatuated with her native language, and regarded it as
the most beautiful and expressive ever spoken by man. And now, after
several years have elapsed since its melodious accents have fallen upon
my ears, I hesitate not to assert that for richness and variety of tone,
for force and depth of expression, for harmony and sweetness--in short,
for all those characteristics that give beauty and strength to spoken
thought--the royal tongue of the aboriginal Americans is without a
rival.
For many days after my mysterious appearance in the midst of the great
city I have described, my fate still hung in the balance. I was examined
and re-examined a hundred times as to the mode of my entrance into the
valley; but I always persisted in making the same gestures, and pointed
to the sky as the region whence I had descended. The guards stationed at
every avenue of entrance and exit were summoned to the capital, and
questioned closely as to the probability of my having passed them
unawares; but they fully exculpated themselves from all blame, and were
restored to their forfeited posts.
Gradually the excitement in the city subsided, and one by one the great
nobles were won over to credit the story of my celestial arrival in
their midst, and I believed the great object of my existence in a fair
way to be accomplished.
Every facility was afforded me to learn the royal tongue, and after a
little more than a year's residence in the palace, I spoke it with
considerable fluency and accuracy.
But all my efforts hitherto were vain to obtain a key to the
hieroglyphics. Not only was the offense capital to teach their alphabet
to a stranger, but equally so to natives themselves, unconnected with
the blood royal. With all my ingenuity and industry, I had not advanced
a single letter.
One night, as I lay tossing restlessly upon my bed, revolving this
insoluble enigma in my mind, one of the mosaic paving-stones was
suddenly lifted up in the middle of the room, and the figure of a young
man with a lighted taper in his hand stood before me.
Raising my head hastily from the pillow, I almost sank back with
astonishment when I recognized in the form and features of my midnight
visitor, Pio the Carib boy.