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IR A C E M ATHE HONEY-LIPSALEGEND OF BRAZILJDE ALENCARTRA NSLA TED, WITH THE'.A UTHOR'S PERMISSION,BYISABEL BURTONLONDONBICKERS & SON,i LEICESTER SQUARE

BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.EDINBURGH AND LONDON

PREFACE.I CANNOT allow my readers to remain ignorant of thename of Senhor J. de Alencar, the author of this andseveral other works; for he deserves to be as wellknown in England as in Brazil, and it must be theresult of the usual modesty of a really clever man thathe is not so.He is their firstproseand romance writer. Hisstyle, written in the best Portuguese of the presentday one to be learnt and copiedis in thoroughgood taste and feeling. It contains poetic anddelicate touches, and beauty in similes, yet it is realand true to life.Icannot thank him sufficiently for having allowedso incompetent a translator as myselfto be the firstto introduce him to the British public. I have endeavouredto be as literal as possible, but I cannotpretend to do him justice,for our harsh Northerntongue only tells coarsely a tale full of grace andmusic in the Portuguese language; but I have

ivPREFACE.done my best, and if he permits me to translateall his works, I hope to do better as I go on,especially if he will again as he has already donegive me instructions in Tupy, the language ofthe aborigines.ISABEL BURTON.SANTOS SAO PAULO, BRAZIL.

HISTORICAL ARGUMENT.THIS legend of the aboriginesis laid in Ceara, anorthern province of Brazil, at that time unknownand unconquered.In 1603, Pero Coelho, a gentleman of Parahyba,another northerly province, then already belonging tothe Portuguese, arrived at the mouth of the riverwith a command of 80 colonistsJaguaribe in Ceara,and 800 Indians. He there founded the first settlementin Ceara", and called it Nova Lisboa.This Pero Coelho was abandoned by his comradeswhen a certain Joao Soromenho was sent to him withreinforcements, and was authorised to pay the expensesof the expedition by making captives or slaves.He did not respect even the Indians of the Jaguariberiver, who were friendly to the Portuguese.This proved the downfall of the growing settlement.The natives resented such tyranny. Pero Coelho,with his wife and young children, was compelled tofly by land to his own province.In the first expedition was Martini Scares Moreno,a youth from Rio Grande do Norte, another northerly

viHISTORICAL ARGUMENT.province belonging to the Portuguese. He enteredinto bonds of friendship with Jacaiina and his brotherPoty, who were chiefs of the Indians of the seaboard.In 1608, by order of Dom Diogo Menezes, he returnedto establish a colony, and in1611 he foundedthe fortified place of Nossa Senhora do Amparo, or" Our Lady of Protection."Jacaiina, who lived on the borders of Acaracu" "River of the Heron's nest settled near it withhis tribe, to protect it from the Indians of the interior,and from the French, who then infested the coast.Poty eventually became aChristian, and was baptizedAntonio Phelipe Camarao. He highly distinguishedhimself when the Dutch invaded the coast,and his services were richly rewarded by the PortugueseGovernment.Martim Scares Moreno became a Field-Marshal,and was one of those brave Portuguese leaders whodelivered Brazil from the Hollander invasion. Cearashould honour his memory as that of a good andvaliant man, and the first settlement by Coelho atthe mouth of the Jaguaribe having proved a failurehold him to be her true founder.My readers will better understand this tale by myexplaining that the Pytigudras were an aboriginaltribe who occupied the shores between Parnahyba andthe Jaguaribe, or Rio Grande.Their chiefs were Jacaiina and Poty (afterwardsCamarao, "the Prawn " ), two brothers, who were firmallies to the Portuguese. They were at war with theTabajaras, another tribe occupyingthe mountains of

HISTORICAL ARGUMENT.viiIbyapaba, and the interior as far as the province ofmeans Mel Redondo, or " Round Honey," aPiauhy.The Chiefs of these inland people were also two.The first was Irapuam, which, translated into Portuguese,wild and vicious bee of that name. This famousbloodthirsty chief ruled in Ceard, but Grao DeaboBig Devil was Lord of the Tabajaras in Piauhy. Bothwere bitter enemies of the Portuguese, and alliedthemselves with the French of Maranhao anothernortherly province who had penetrated into andtaken possession of the lands as far as the mountainrange of Ibyapaba.

I R A E M A.CHAPTER I.WILD green seas of my Native Land, where sings theJanddia-bird l in the fronds of the Carnaiiba-palm ! 2Green seas which sparkle like liquid emerald in therays of the orient sun, as ye stretch along the snowybeaches shaded by the cocoa-tree !Be still, ye green seas ! and gently smooth the impetuouswave, that yon venturesome barque may softlyglide over thy waters.Where goes that hardy Jangada-raft, 3 which rapidlyflies from the Ceara coast, with her broad sail spreadto the fresh breeze of land ?Where goes it, like the white halcyon seeking hisnative rock in the ocean solitudes ?Three beings breathe upon that fragile plank, whichscuds so swiftly out far into the openA sea.warrior youth, whose pale skin betokens that theblood of the Indians does not colour his veins ;a1Janddia is a small yellow, red, and green talking parroquet.2Carnauba, a well-known Brazilian palm of large size, withmany thorny branches all the way up the trunk, instead of beingplain and smooth. Each branch-tip is like a fan-palm. Whenyoung, it has a large fruit, full of oil, which isgiven to pigs andcattle. When grown up, its fan-leaves, dried, thatch the houses,and make hats and mats its ; thorny branches are used for stakes ;it also has a delicious small black fruit, and from other parts theyextract wax formaking the Carnauba candles,3 a raft.Jangadat(A

2 IRAÊMA.child, and a mastiff, who both first saw the light in thecradle of the forest, and who sport like brothers, thesons of the same savagesoil.The intermittent breathings from the shore waft anecho which, rising high above the ripple of the waves,sounds forth"Irace"ma!" * * *The young warrior, leaning against the mast, raiseshis eyes, which are fixed upon the fleeting outline ofthe shadowy shore. From time to time his sight becomesdim, and a tear falls upon the Girdo-bench, 1where frolic the two innocents, the companions of hismisfortune.At such moments his soul flies to his lips in a bittersmile.What left he in that land of exile ?A tale which they told me on the beautiful plainsthat saw my birth, during the hush of night, whilst themoon, sailing through the heavens, silvered the prairies;whilst the breezes murmured amid the palm groves.The wind freshens.The surf rolls in higher billows. The barque leapsupon the waves disappears on the horizon. Wideyawns the waste of waters. The storm broods, condorlike,with dusky wings over the abyss.God keep thee safe, stout barque, amidst the boilingbillows God steer thee to some ! friendly bight!May softer breezes waft thee, and for thee may thecalm jasper seas be like plains of milk !But whilst thou sailest thus at the mercy of thewinds, graceful barque, waft back to that white beachsome of the yearning 2 that accompanies thee, butwhich may not leave the land to which it returns.1Girdo, a sort of rude bench for sitting upon in the Jangada raft.2Yearning, in the original saudade an untranslatable Portugueseword for which we have no equivalent ; it means a softsad regret for some person, place, or happy time missed andpast in fac f ,the Latin desiderium.

IRAÊMA.CHAPTER II.FAR, very far from that Serra which purples the horizon,was born Iragema.Iragema, the virgin with the honey lips, 1 whose hair,hanging below her palm-like 2 waist, was jetty as theGraiina 3 bird's wing.The comb of the Jaty-bee 4was less sweet than hersmile, and her breath excelled the perfume exhaled bythe vanilla 5 of the woods.Fleeter than the wild roe, the dark virgin wanderedfreely through the plains and forests of Ipii, 6 where7her warlike tribe, a part of the great Tabajara nation,lay wigwamed. Her subtle, naked foot scarcely pressedto earth the thin green garment with which the earlyrains clothe the ground.One day, when the sun was in mid-day height, shewas reposing in a forest-clearing. The shade of theOitycica, 8 more refreshing than the dew of night,bathed her form. The arms of the wild acacia droppedtheir blossoms upon her wet hair. The birds hiddenin the foliage sang for her their sweetest songs.Iragema left the bath. Pearl drops of water stoodupon her, like the sweet Mangaba, 9 which blushes in1Iragema literally means " Lips of Honey."2The Indians, speaking of a tall straight graceful figure,generally use the palm-tree as a simile.3Graiina is a bird known by its shining black plumage andsweet song.4Jdtyis a little bee which makes delicious honey.6The vanilla tree, Baunilha,6 If it, a district in Ceara, in which there were spots of wonderfullyfertile land.7Tabajara literally means " Lord of the Villages."8Oilyclca, a leafy tree whose shade exhales a delicious freshness.9Mangdba> the fruit of the Mangabeira, the milk of whichtree resembles indiarubber.

4 IRAÊMA.the refreshing dawn-dew. Whilst reposing she refitsher arrows with the plumes of the Card, 1 whilst shejoins in the joyous song of the forest Sabia, 2perchedin the nearest bough.A beautiful Ara, 3 her companion and friend, playsnear her. Now the bird climbs the branches andcalls the virgin by her name ;then he slips down andshakes the little satchel 4 of coloured straw in whichthe wild maid carries her perfumes, her white threadsof the Crauta, 5 6her needles of Jussdra-thorn, withwhich she works the grass-cloth, and her dyes thatserve to tinge the cotton.A suspicious noise breaks the soft harmony of thesiesta.Iraêma raises the eyes which no sun candazzle, and her sight is troubled.Standing before her, absorbed in gazing upon her,is a strange warrior, if indeed it is a warrior, and notsome evil spirit of the forest. 7 His face is white asthe sands that border the sea, his eyes are sadly blueas the deep. He bears unknown weapons, and is cladin unknown cloths.Rapid as her eye-glance was the action of Irac.e'ma.An arrow shot from the bow, and red drops ran downthe face of the unknown.1Card or Guard, the ibis of Brazil, a bird of the marshes, wiihbeautiful red colour.2 Sabid, a well-known bird about the size of our thrush, whichsings beautifully, and can be taught like a bullfinch. It is thenightingale, the bulbul of South America.Ard, parroquet.4 Uru. I have called it satchel, but it is a little coffer orbasket, in which the savages keep their treasures, and whichaccompanies them as does a lady's dressing-case in Europe.5Crautd, a bromelia or wild pine-apple, from which are drawnfibres finer than thread.6Jussdra, a palm with large thorns, which are used here evenin these days to divide the threads in making lace.7M&o espirito dafloresta. The natives called those evil spirit*Caa-pora, "an invisible misfortune." Those who lived in theforest were most feared.

.At the first impulse his nimble hand sought hissword-cross ;but presently he smiled.The young warrior had been brought up in thereligion of his mother, wherein Woman is a symbol oftenderness and love. He suffered more in his soulthan from his wound.What expression was in his eye and whole face\vho knows ? But it made the virgin cast away herbow and 1Uiragaba, and run to the warrior, pained atthe pain she had caused. The hand so swift to strikemore rapidly and gently staunched the dripping stream.Then Iragema brake the murderous arrow. Sheoffered the shaft to the unknown, and she kept thebarbed point.The warrior spoke" :Dost thou break with me the arrow of peace ? " 2"Who taught the white warrior the tongue ofIragema's brethren How ? came he to these forests,which never saw other warrior like to him " ?" Daughter of the forests, I come from afar : Icome from the land which thy brothers once possessed,and wherein mine now dwell."" Welcome be the stranger to the Prairie of theTabajaras, Lords of the Villages, and to the wigwamof Araken, father of Iragema."5CHAPTER III.THE stranger followed the virgin through the glades.When the last sun-rays fell upon the crest of the*Uit'ctfdba (aljava), quiver for arrows.2Guebrar a frecha. To break an arrow with an Indian wasa bond of alliance which could not be broken. It was owingto this circumstance, and to Martim Scares Moreno throwingaway his European costume, and dressing and painting like theRed Men, entering also into their customs and language, that heacquired such an influence over them.

6 IRACMA.mountains, and the turtle-dove cooed forth her firstlament from the forest depths, they sighted upon theplain beneath them the great Taba farther;on,hanging as it were from a rock, under the shade ofthe lofty Joaseiro, 2 the wigwam of the Page. 3The ancient man was seated at the doorway upona mat of Carnaiiba, smoking and meditating on thesacred rites of Tupan. 4 The gentle breath of thebreeze fluttered his hair long, thin, and whiteas flocks of wool. So statue-like was he, that lifeonly appeared in his hollow, sunken eyes and deepwrinkles.The Page descried, nevertheless, from afar the twoforms, advancing, he thought, towards a solitary tree,whose dense foliage was casting a long shadow adownthe valley before him.When the travellers entered the deep gloom of thewood, his eye, made, like the tiger's, for darkness,recognised Irac,ema, and saw that she was followedby a young warrior of a strange race and a far-offland.5The Tabaja*ra tribes beyond Ibyapaba were fullof a new race of warriors, pale as the flowers of thestorm, 6 and coming from the remotest shores to thebanks of the Mearim. 7 The old man thought that itwas one of these warriors who trod his native ground.Calmly he awaited.11Taba, a village settlement.2Joaseiro, a tree which produces ihejoaz fruit, the jujube.3 Pag6, priest, Druid, magician, soothsayer, or fetish-man.4Tupan, the Great Spirit Thunder, and, since their conversion,the Consecrated Host of the Tupy Indians.5 Ibyapaba, the Serra or mountain range which bounds theprovince of Ceara, and separates it from Piauhy.6 In the original, alvos comoflores de borrasca. They speak ofwhite clouds announcing a storm, and this is, literally, "whiteas the flowers of the storm."7Mearim, a river which rises in Maranhao, and emptiesitself into the ocean.

IRAgEMA. 7The virgin advancing, pointed tothe stranger andsaid :"He came, father."" He came well. Tupan sent this guestto thewigwam of Araken."And thus saying the Page* passed the calumet l tothe stranger, and they both entered the wigwam.The youth took the principal hammock, which wassuspended in the centre of the habitation. Iê'malighted the fire of hospitality, and brought out food tosatisfy hunger and thirst. She produced the spoilsof the chase, farinha-water, wild-fruits, honeycombs,wine of the Caju 2 and the pine-apple.The virgin then went to the nearest spring of freshwater, and returned with the full Igagdba, 3 to washthe stranger's hands and face.eaten, the venerable Page extinguishedand spoke " for the first time.Thou earnest ? " 4When the warrior hadthe Caximbo" I came," replied the unknown." Thou earnest well. The stranger is master inthe wigwam of Araken. The Taba"jaras have athousand warriors to defend him, and women withoutnumber to serve him. Let him speak, and all willobey him."" Pag! I thank thee for thy hospitality. As soonas the sun shall be born, I leave thy wigwam and thyCalumet, original caximbo, the pipe of hospitality.12Caju, the cashew of India a iree with a fruit like anapple : it is singular because, unlike other fruit, its nut is outsideat the top, as if a schoolboy had stuck it in for fun. Thisinust not be confounded with the Cajd, which is another Brazilianfruit like a yellow plum.3Igctfdba, a large earthen pot or jar for wine or any otherliquor.4Vieste (?) Vim. The salutation of hospitality wasTupy. Brazilian, English.Ere wube\ Tu vieste. Thou earnest.Pa-aiotu. Vim, sim. I came, yes.Auge-be. Bemdito. Be blessed.

8prairies, where I strayed, but I would notleave themwithout telling thee who the warrior is whom thouhast made thy friend."" It isTupan whom the Page* serves. He sent hima guest, and he will take him away again. Arakenhas as yet done nothing for him. He does not askwhence he comes nor whither he goes. If he wouldsleep, may the happy dreams descend upon him ;ifhe would speak, Araken listens."The stranger said :" I am of the white warriors who raised a Taba onthe banks of the 1Jaguaribe, near the sea, where dwellthe 2 Pytigudras, who hate thy blood. My name isMartim, 3 which in thy tongue means Son of a Warrior.My race is that of the Great People who first saw thelands 4of thy country. Even now my brethren, routedand beaten back, return by sea to the margins of theParahyba, 5 whence they came, and my chief, 6 abandonedby all, crosses the vast regions of the Apody. 7Of so many I alone remain, because I was amongstthe Pytiguaras of the Acaraii, 8 in the wigwam of thevaliant Poty, brother of Jacaiina, who planted withme the Friendship-tree. Three suns have set sincewe went forth on the hunting path. I lost sight of1Jaguaribe, the largest river of the province of Ceara : fromjaguar, small tiger, and ibe, plenty.2 Pytiû&ras, the great Indian nation who inhabited the littoralof the province from Parahyba to Rio Grande do Norte,whose chiefs were Poty and Jacauna, brothers, and firm friendsof Martim Soares Moreno, and of all the Portuguese. Theywere at war with the Tabajaras and the French.3Descendant of Mars.4The Portuguese.5Parahyba, a province south-east of Ceara on the Atlantic.Pero Coelho and his party.7The Sertao desconheado or unknown regions of Rio Grandedo Norte, the most norih-easterly province of Brazil on theAtlantic.8 Acaraii, or "Stream of the Herons," also called Acdracii," Stream of the Herons' Nests," a river of Ceara.

IRAQEMA. 9my friends, and thus I strayed to the prairies of theTabajaras."" It was some bad spirit of the forest that blindedthe pale- face warrior in the darkness of the woods,"replied the old man.The Cauam lchirped at the other end of the valley.Night had set in.CHAPTERIV.THE Page shook the Maraca-rattle 2 and left the cabin,but the stranger remained not alone.Irage'ma returned with the maidens summoned toserve the guest of Araken and the warriors who cameto obey" him.May happiness rock the White Warrior's hammockduring the night, and may the sun bring light to hiseyes and joy to his soul."Thus saying, Iragema's lip trembled, and the tearstood in her eye."Thou leavest me then?" asked Martim." 3The most beautiful virgins of the great Tabaremain " with the warrior."The daughter of Araken was mistaken in bringingthem here for the guest of the Page.""Irage'ma may not wait upon the stranger. It isshe who guards the secret of the Jurema 4 and the1Caudm, a bird of evil omen, which feeds on serpents, andchirps its own name.2Maracd, an instrument used in the religious and war-likeceremonies of the Indians ;a kind of loud rattle.3As mais bellas imilheres. Any Indian's idea of completehospitality.4Jurema, a kind of acacia with thick foliage. It has a bitterfruit and acrid smell, and, mixed with the pulp of its own leavesand other ingredients, it made a kind of hasheesh, which is saidto have produced vivid and happy dreams. The making of thisdram was kept secret by the Page's.

iomystery of dreams. Her hand prepares for the Page*the drink of Tupan."The Christian warrior crossed the wigwam and disappearedin the darkness.The great village lay in the bottom of the valley,which was illuminated by bonfires. Loud rattled theMaraca. The savages were dancing and beating timeto their slow surging of the savage song. The inspiredPage headed the sacred rejoicing, and taughtto the believers the secrets of Tupan. The principalchief of the Tabajdra nation, Irapiiam, 1 had descendedfrom the highest point of the IbyapabaSerra, to lead the inland tribes against the Pytiguarafoe. The warriors of the valley celebrate the arrivalof the chief and the coming fight.The Christian youth saw from afar the glare of thefeast-fire, and walked on, gazing at the deep-blue,cloudless sky. The " Dead Star " 2 glittered upon thedome of the forest, and guided his firm step towardsthe fresh banks of the Acaraii.When he crossed the valley, as if about to enter theforest, the figure of Iragema arose before him. Thevirgin had followed the stranger like the soft andsubtle breeze which passes through the tangled woodwithout stirring a leaf."Wherefore," she murmured, "has the strangerleft the Wigwam of Hospitality without taking withhim the Gift of Return ? 3 Who harmed the pale-facedwarrior in the land of the Tabajaras? "1Irapiiam was the celebrated Tabajara chief in Ceara. Theword means Mel-Redondo in Portuguese, in English Round-Honey. He was so called after a wild and vicious bee of thatname, whose honeycombis round. Irapuam was a bloodthirstychief, and his tribe were bitter enemies of the Pytiguaras, andtheir allies the Portuguese. They supported the French ofMaranhao.morta, dead star. They so called the Polar staron account of its immobility, and it was their guide by night.3O presente da volta, a hospitable Indian custom.

IRAQEMA.TIThe Christian felt the justice of her complaint andhis own ingratitude." Daughter of Araken ! No one hurt thy guest.It was a longing to see his friends which made himleave the prairies of the Tabajdras. He did not takethe Return Gift, but he carries in his heart the memoryof Trauma."" If the memory of Iragema dwelt in the heart ofthe stranger, it would not suffer him to depart. Thewind blows not away the sand of the desert when thesand has drank deep of the water of rain."And the virgin sighed."The pale-faced warrior should wait tillCaubyreturns from hunting. The brother of Irac.e'ma hasquick ears. He can hear the Boicininga l amidst allthe noises of the forest. He has the eyes of theOitibo, 2 which sees best in the dark.Cauby will guidehim to the banks of the river of the herons.""How long will it be before the brother of Iragemareturns to the "wigwam of Araken ?"The rising sun will bring the warrior Cauby tothe plains of the Ipii.""Thy guest will wait, daughter of Araken but if;the returning sun bring not the brother of Irage'ma,it will take the pale-faced warrior to the Taba of thePytiguaras."And Martini returned to the cabin of the Page'.The white hammock, perfumed by Iragema withBeijoim, 3 gave the guest a calm and sweet sleep.The Christian was lullabied to sleep by the murmursof the forest and the low tender song of the Indianmaid.1Boicininga, rattlesnake.2 Oitibd, a night-bird of the owl family.3 Benzoin, in the original Beijoim or Beijuim,drug.an odoriferous

12 IRACÊMA.CHAPTER V.THE Prairie-cock raises his scarlet crest from out hishome. His clear trill announces the approach ofday.Darkness still covers the earth, but already thesavage people roll up the hammocks in the greatTaba, and walk towards the bath. The old Page,who had watched all night, talking to the stars, andconjuring the bad spirits of the darkness, 1 enteredfurtively into the wigwam.Lo! thundered forth the Bore, 2 filling the valleywith itsbooming sound.The active warriors seize their weapons and rushto the prairies ;when all were collected in the largeand circular Ocara, 3 the chief Irapuam sounded thewar-cry."Tupan gave to the great Tabajara nation all thesegrounds. We guard the Serras which supply withwater the rivers and the fresh Ipiis,4where grows themanfva, 6 and the cotton. We have abandoned tothe barbarous Potyuara, 6 Eaters of Prawns, the nakedsands of the sea, with the table-lands wanting woodand water. Now these fishers of the beach, alwaysconquered, give sea-way to the white race, the Warriors1Os mdos espiritos da treva : the savages call these spiritsCurupira, wicked imps.2Bore or Mure means a pipe of. bamboo, which gives out ahollow, roaring sound.3Ocdra, a circular space in the centre of a village, upon whichall the wigwams open.4 fpu, a small fertile oasis in the prairies.5Maniva is the root of mandioca, which is like our parsnip,but larger. The Indians dry and grind it,make bread of it,oreat it as farinha (flour).6Potyuara means a " Comedor de Camarao" or " Eater of thePrawn." This was a spiteful soubriquet given to the Pytiguarasby their enemies, because they lived on the shores and chieflyate fish.

IRAÊMA. 131of Fire, the enemies of Tupan. Already the Emboabas2 have stood upon the Jaguaribe river. Soonthey will be in the prairies of the Tabajaras, and withthem the Potyuaras. Shall we Lords of the Villagesdo like the dove, who hides in her nest while theserpent curls himself "along the branches ?The excited chief brandishes his tomahawk, 8 andhurls it into the middle of the circle. Bending downhis forehead, he hid his eyes, ruddy with"rage. Irapiiamhas spoken," at length he said.The youngest of the warriors advances." The Sparrow-hawk hovers in the air. When theNhambii 4rises, he falls from the clouds and tears outhis victim's heart. The young Tabajara warrior, sonof the Serra, is like the sparrow-hawk."The Pogema 5 of war thunders and re-echoes. Theyoung warrior lifted up the tomahawk, and in his turnbrandished it. Whirled rapidly and menacingly in theair, the chief's weapon passed from hand to hand.The venerable Andfra, brother of the Page, let itfall, and stamped upon the ground with his foot, stillfirm and active.The Tabajaras are struck by this unusual action.A vote of peace from such a tried and impetuouswarrior ! The old hero, who grew to bloodshed as hegrew in years the ferocious Andira is it he who letsfall the tomahawk, herald of the coming struggle ?Uncertain and silent, allgave" ear.Andira, the old Andira, has drank more blood in1"Guerreiros defogo, warriors of fire," the Portuguese.2Emboabos, a name given to the Portuguese, and afterwardsto all strangers, on account of their trousers. Its literal meaningis a fowl with feathers down its legs, and alludes to the Europeanpractice of wearing nether garments,3Tacape, tomahawk.4Nkambii, the Brazilian partridge,5Pofema, the great noise made by the savages on solemnoccasions--war or triumph. It consisted of clapping their-hands and beating palms, accompanied by war-cries or shouts.

I 4IRAÊMA.war than all these warriors who now gladden the lightpf his leyes have drank Cauim at the feasts of Tupan.He has seen more combats in his life than moonswhich have stripped his brow. How many Potyuaraskulls has his implacable hand scalped before Timeplucked off his first hair ! And old Andfra neverfeared that the enemy would tread his nativeground; he rejoiced at their coming, and, as thebreath of winter revives the dried tree, he feltyouthreturn to his decrepid body when he scented the warfrom afar. The Tabajaras are prudent. They willlay aside the Tomahawk to play the Memby 2 at thefeast. Let Irapiiam celebrate the coming of theEmboa'bas, and give them all time to swarm upon ourplains. Then Andfra promises him the banquet ofvictory."Irapiiam could no longer restrain his fury."The Old Bat 3 can remain hidden amongst thewine-jars, because he fears the light of day, becausehe drinks the blood only of the sleeping victim.Irapiiam carries the war at the point of his tomahawk.The terror which he inspires flies forward withthe hoarse boom of the Bore. The Potyuara alreadytrembles as he hears itroaring in the Serra, roaringlouder than the rebounding of the sea."CHAPTER VI.MARTIM strolls pace by pace amongst the tall Joazeiroswhich encircle the wigwam of the Page.1Cauim, wine of the Cajii.2Memby horn orttrumpet.3Andira means " Velho Morcejo," or " "Old Bat ; hencethe taunt of Irapuam.

IRAÊMA. 15It was the hour in which the sweet lAracaty comesup from the sea and spreads over the arid plains itsdelicious freshness. The plant breathes, and a gentleshiver upraises the green tresses of the forest.The Christian looks upon the setting sun. Theshadow gliding down the mountains and covering thevalley enters into his soul. He thinks of his nativeplace and the beloved ones he has left behind. Hewonders if he shall some day see them again. Natureall round bewails the death of day. Murmurs thetremulous, tearful wave moans the breeze in the;foliage even silence is sorrowful.;IraQe'ma stood before the young" warrior.Is it the presence of Iragema that disturbs thepeace of the stranger's brow ? "Martini looked softly in the virgin's face." No, daughter of Araken !thy presence gladdensme like the morning light. It was the memory of mynative land that brought a saudade to my anxious soul.""A bride awaits him there " ?The stranger averted his eyes. Ira9ema's headsank upon her shoulder, like the tender palm of theCarnaiiba when the rain overhangs the plains." She is not sweeter than Iê'ma, the maiden ofthe honied lips,nor more beautiful " ! murmured theguest." The forest flower is beautiful when it has a branchto shelter it, a trunk round which to entwine itself.Irasema does not live in the soul of a warrior. Shenever felt the freshness of his smile."Silent were both their ; eyes fell to the ground.They heard nought save the beating of their hearts.1Aracaty, the savages of the interior so call the sea-breezes,which blow regularly towards the evening over the valley ofthe Jaguaribe, and refresh the interior after the scorching heatof summer days. Aracatyis the quarter whence comes themonsoon, and in some Brazilian places the evening sea-breeze stillretains that name.

1 6 IRAgEMA.The virgin was the first to speak." Gladness shall soon return to the heart of thepale-faced warrior, because Iraêma wishes that beforenightfall he may see the bride who expects him."Martim " smiled at the young girl's artless wish."Come ! said the virgin.They crossed the forest and descended into thevalley. The wood was thick on the hill-skirts; adense dome of dark-green foliage protected thesylvan shrine dedicated to the mysteries of barbarousrites.This was the sacred wood of the Jurdma. Aroundstood the rugged trunks of the Tupan tree ;from theboughs, hidden by thick greenery, hung the sacrificialvases ;ashes of the extinct fire, which had beenused for the feast of the last new moon, still strewedthe ground.Before entering this place of mystery, the virgin,who was leading the warrior by the hand, hesitated,and applied her subtle ear to the sighings of thebreeze. Each slight noise of the forest had a meaningfor the wild daughter of the desert. However,there was nothing suspicious in the deep respirationof the forest.Iraema signed to the stranger to wait and besilent, whilst she disappeared in the thickest of thewood. The sun stillhung over the mountain ridge,and night began to shroud the solitary spot.When the virgin returned, she brought in a leafsome drops of an unknown green liquor, pouredfrom an Igac^ba, which she had taken out of theground. She presented the rude bowl to the warrior."Drink !Martim felt a sleep like death take possession ofhis eyes ;but soon his soul seemed full of light, andstrength exhilarated his heart. He lived over againdays better and happier than any that he had everknown. He enjoyed the reality of his brightest hopes.

I RACE MA. 17Behold ! he returns to his native land. He kisseshis aged mother. He sees the pure angel of hisboyish love, more beautiful and more tender thanbefore.Then why, hardly returned to his native home,does the young warrior again abandon his father'sroof and seek the desert ?Now he crosses the forests ;now he arrives atthe plains of the Ipii. He seeks in the forest thedaughter of the Page'. He follows the slight trailof the coy virgin, incessantly sighing forth her sweetname to the breeze :"Iragema! Iragema!" . . .Now he finds her, and winds his arm round hersweet form.The young girl, yielding to the warm pressure, hidesher face upon the warrior's bosom, and trembles therelike a timid partridge when its tender mate ruffleswith the beak its delicate plume.The warrior more than once sighed forth her name,and sobbed as though to summon another loving lip.Iragema felt her soul escaping to merge itself in afiery kiss.And his brow bent low, and already the flower ofher smile hung down as though calling to be culled.Suddenly the virgin trembled. Quickly disengagingherself from the arm that encircled her, she seizedher bow.CHAPTER VII.IRAÊMA threaded the trees silent as a shade; hersparkling eyes pierced through the foliage like starbeams.She listened to the profound silence of thenight and inhaled the balm-blowing breeze.She stopped. A shadow glided amongst the

i8boughs and the leaves were crackled by a light step,unless indeed the report was the buzzing of someinsect. Slowly the soft sound waxed louder, and withit the shadow became darker.It was a warrior.With one bound the virgin confronted him, tremblingwith fear, and still more with wrath." " Iragema! exclaimed the brave, " recoiling.The lAnhanga hath doubtless disturbed the sleepof Irapiiam, that he has lost himself in the Juremawood, where no warrior enters save by the will ofAraken."" It was not the Anhanga, but the thought ofIragema that disturbed the sleep of the bravest ofthe TabajaVa braves. Irapiiam hath descended fromthe white crane of thehis eyrie to follow up the plainriver. He came, and Iragema fled from his gaze.The voices of the Taba related in the hearing of theChief that a stranger had sat under the roof-tree ofAraken."The virgin trembled. The warrior fixed upon herhis burning eyes.The heart here in Irapiiam's breast became a tiger'sheart. It panted with rage. He came scenting thequarry."The stranger is in this wood, and Iragema accompaniedhim. Irapuamwill drink all his blood :when that of the white warrior shall fill the veins ofthe Tabajara Chief, perhaps the daughter of Arakenmay love him."The maiden's b ack ] pupils flashed in the dark, anda smile of contempt dropped from her lips, bitter asthe gouts of caustic milk which the Euphorbia" sheds.Never will Iragema give herself to the basest ofthe Tabajara braves. The spirit of Tupan alone fills1Anhdnga, the spirit of A evil. ghost is also thus called,the word being composed of anho, alone, and anga, a soul orspirit. Thus it means a spirit simply, a phantom.

I RACE MA. 19her breast. Vile is the vampire that hides from thelight and drinks the blood of the sleeping" victim."Daughter of Araken !provoke not the Ounce.The name of Irapiiam flies farther than the Goana lof the lake when he scents the rain beyond themountains. Let the white warrior appear, and letIragema open her arms " to the victor."The white warrior is the guest of Araken. Peacebrought him to the plains of Ipii, and peace guardshim here. Whoso offends the stranger shall offendthe Page."The Tabajara chief roared lion-like in his rage."The fury of Irapuam now hears only the vengeance-cry.The stranger shall die."The daughter of Araken is stronger than theChief of warriors," said Iragema, seizing the wartrumpet.2 " She holds here the voice of the Tupangod,who calls on his people.""But she will not call," said the Chief scoffingly."No, because Irapuam shall be punished by thehand of Iragema. His first step will be the step ofdeath."The virgin with one bound retreated as much asshe had advanced and drew her bow. The chief stillgrasped the handle of his formidable tomahawk, buthe felt for the first time that it was heavy for his strongarm. The blow that was about to strike Iragemahad already wounded his own heart. He then knewhow easily the strongest brave is, out of his verystrength, vanquished by love."The shadow of Iragema will not always hide thestranger from the vengeance of Irapuam. Vile is thewarrior who allows himself to be protected by awoman."Thus saying, the Chief vanished amongst the trees.The virgin, always on the watch, returned to the1Goand, a large species of wild duck.3 In the original 1 nubia, a war-trumpet of large size.

20 IRAÊMA.sleeping Christian, and guarded him for the rest ofthe night. The emotions so lately undergone agitatedher soul, and ripenedall those sweet affections of herheart which the stranger's eyes had quickened to life.She longed to protect him from all peril, to shelterhim as though she were an impenetrable asylum.Then, deeds following her thoughts, she passed herarms round the sleeping warrior's neck and she pillowedhis head upon her bosom.But when the joy of seeing the stranger saved fromthe perils of the night had passed away, the thoughtof new dangers about to arise caused her the liveliestdisquiet."The love of Iragemais like the wind of thedesert-sands; it kills the flower of the forest," sighedthe virgin.And slowly she withdrew.CHAPTER VIII.THE white gleam of dawn awoke the day and openedthe eyes of the white warrior. The morning lightdissolved the visions of the night and drew from hismind the remembrance of his dream. There remainedbut a vague sensation, as the perfume of thecactus clings to the forest clump, even after the sharpwind from the mountains has laid it bare in theearlyHe morn.did not know where he was.Leaving the sacred grove, he met Irac.ema. Thevirgin was leaning against a rough trunk in the holt.Her eyes were on the ground the colour;had fledher cheeks, and her heart trembled upon her lip,like ldrops of dew on the bamboo frond.1Bambu, the well-known Indian cane.

IRAQEMA. 21No smile, no freshness, had the Indian maid ;nobuds, no flowers, has the acacia scorched by the sun ;no azure, no stars, has the night when loud jars thewind." The forest bloom has opened to the sun-ray ;the" Whybirds have already sang," said the warrior.does only Iragema hang her head and remain silent?"The daughter of the Page' trembled. Thus tremblesthe green palm when its bole is shaken ;thus the raintearsare showered from its frond ;thus its fans quietlymurmur." Cauby the brave is coming to the Taba of hisbrothers. The stranger can depart with the nowrising sun.""Iragema then would see the stranger go from theprairies of the Tabajara; then will gladness returnto her heart ? "" The lJuruty-dove abandons the nest wherein shewas born when the tree decays. No more shall joyvisit the breast of Iragema. She will remain like thebare trunk, without branches, without shade."Martini supported the trembling form of the maiden ;she rested wearily upon the warrior's bosom, like theyoung tendril of the Baiinilha which twines tenderly2round the sturdy branch of the Angico-acacia.The youth murmured" Thy guest remains, maid with the black eyes! hestays to bring back upon thy cheek the flower of happiness,and to sip like the bee the honey of thy lips."Irage'ma disengaged herself from the youth's armsand looked at him with sadness." White warrior !Iragema is the daughter of thePag, and keeps the secret of the Jurdma draught.The brave that shall possess the Virgin of Tupan willdie.1Juruty, a species of Brazilian dove.2Ang'.co, a large cedar much prized by joiners and carpenters.

22 IRAÊMA."And Iragema?"" If thou shouldst die ! "....This word was a sigh of agony. The youth's headfell upon his breast, but soon he " raised his form.The warriors of my race carry death with them,daughter of the Tabajaras They do not fear it for!themselves ; they do not spareit to their foes. Butnever, unless in combat, do they leave open the Camociml of the maiden in the wigwam of their host.Truth hath spoken by the mouth of Iragema. Thestranger " should leave the Tabajara camp."He should," said the maiden, like an echo.Then her voice sighed forth"The honey of Iragema's lips is like the honeycombwhich the bee makes in the trunk of the Guabiroba:2poisonousis its sweetness. The maidenwith the blue eyes and sunny hair 3keeps for her bravein the Taba of the pale-faces the honey of the lily."Martim withdrew quickly and returned but slowly.A word trembled on his lips."The guest will go, that peace may return to Iragema'sbosom.""And he bears with him the light of Iragema'seyes and the flower of her soul."A strange noise re-echoed through the forest. Theyouth's glance sped in its" direction.It isCauby the brave's cry of joy," said the maid." Iragema's brother announces his safe return to theprairies of the Tabajara."*'Daughter of Araken, conduct thy guest to thewigwam. It is time to depart."1Catnocim, also called Camotim, the urn or chest which servedas coffin to the aborigines. The word c' am *otim means "holeto bury the dead," f.om co, hole, ambyra, dead, and anhotim, tobury.2 In the original Guabiroba or Andiroba ta tree which gives apungent, bitter oil.3 Portuguese, cabellosdo sol, hair like the sun in ; Tupy,?/dracidba; so they called the yellow hair of Europeans.

IRACEAIA. 23They paced side by side, like t\vo fawns who atthe sunset hour return through the wood to theirnighting-place, whence the scent of suspicion is borneby the breeze. When they reached thesaw Joazeiros, theyCauby crossing beyond them, his broad shouldersbending under the weight of his chase. Iragema wentto meet him.The stranger entered the wigwam alone.CHAPTER IX.THE morning sleep weighed down the eyelids of thePage like the fair-weather mists hang at daybreakover the deep caverns in the mountain-side. Martimhesitated, but the sound of his step reached the oldman's ear and startled his decrepit frame."Araken sleeps!" murmured the warrior, slackeninghis pace.The venerable Page remained motionless." The Pag slumbers because Tupan hath turnedhis face to the Earth, and the Light hath frightened awaythe evil spirits of Darkness. But sleep sits lightly onthe eyes of Araken, like the smoke of the Sap-grass lon the top of the Serra. If the stranger came to seethe Page, speak his ears are ;open.""The guest came to tell Araken that he is aboutto go forth."" The stranger is Lord in the wigwam of Araken ;all the roads are open to him. May Tupan guidehim to the Taba of his race."Cauby and I ragema came up."Cauby has returned," said the Tabajara brave."He brings to Araken the best of his game."1coarse grass which grows on worn-Sape, leaves for thatch ;out lands.

24 IRAgEMA."The warrior Cauby is a mighty huntsman of themountains and the forests. The eyes of his father areproud to dwell upon him."The old man opened his eyes, but they soon closedagain." Daughter of Araken !choose for thy guest theReturn Gift, and prepare the Moquem l for the journey.If the stranger need a guide, Cauby, the Lord of thePath, 2 will accompany him."And sleep once more closed his eyes.While Cauby hung up the quarry over the smoke,Irace"ma took her own white hammock of cottonfringed with feathers, and folded it into the Uru" ofplaited straw.Martim awaited her at the doorway of the wigwam,and the maiden came to him and said"Warrior that takest away the sleep from Iragema'seyes, take also her hammock. When he sleeps in it,may dreams of Iragema speak with his heart.""Thy hammock, maiden of the Tabajaras, shall bemy companion in the wilds. Let the cold wind of^night blow fiercely, it "will protect the stranger withits warmth and breathe the sweet perfume of Iragema'sbosom."Cauby went forth to see his wigwam, which he hadnot visited since his return. Iragema departed toprepare provisions for the voyage. There remainedin the cabin only the Page", who was sleeping aloud,and the youth with his sorrows.The sun was setting when Iragema's brother returnedfrom the great wigwam.Moquem, in the original, from mocaeni. The Brazilian1Indians roasted their game before a bright fire to prevent itsputrefying when they took it on a journey, and in their tentsthey hung it over the smoke.2Senhor do caminho, "Lord of the Path," is what the abori-.gines called their guide.

IRAÊMA. 25" lThe day ends sadly," quoth Cauby." The nightshadeisalready falling.It is time to depart."The virgin laid her hand gently on the hammockof Araken." He goes," murmured her trembling lips.The Page stood upright in the midst of the wigwamand lit his Calumet. He and the youth exchanged thepipe of farewell." Well-go 2 the Guest, even as he was welcome tothe wigwam of Araken."The old man walked to the door and puffed forth acloud of smoke upon the wind. When it had dispersedin thin air he " saidMay the Jurupary 3 hide himself, and allow theguest of the Page' to pass unmolested."Araken returned to his hammock and slept again.The youth took his arms, which seemed to beheavier than when he had firsthung them to thestakes round the wigwam, and prepared to depart.First went Cauby ;at some little distance followedthe stranger, and directly after him Iragema.They descended the hill and entered the darkforest. Already the Sabia of the wold, sweetestsongster of eventide, deep hidden in the thick myrtlebrake,4 warbled the prelude of her plaintive song.The virgin sighed " forthThe eveningis the Sorrow of the Sun. The daysof Iragema will be long evenings without a morn, untilthe Shadow of the Great Night shall fall upon her."1O dia vae ficar triste. The Tupys called evening Caruca,a word composed of "Checarac " acy," I am sad." They drewtheir image of grief from the twilight and the approaching gloom.2 In Portuguese they can " say, Well-gone be the guest as hiswelcoming;" but we have no single English word as a pendantto welcome.3Jurupary, a demon, which word literally means "crookedmouth" (jttru, a mouth, and apara, crooked, deformed).4 In the original Ubaia, a myrtle with a healthy wholesomefruit (uba, a fruit, and aia, good).

26 IRAQEMA.The youth turned towards her. His lipwas silent,but his eyes spoke. One tear coursed down his manlycheek, like the drops which during the summer heattrickle over the scarped rock.Cauby walked on and disappeared in the densefoliage.The bosom of Araken's daughter heaved liketheoverflowing billow fringed with surf, and she sobbedaloud. But in her soul, so dark with sorrow, burneda faint spark which lit up her cheeks. Thus in theblackness of night a firedrake glimmers over thewhite sands of the high-land plateau."Stranger, take the last smile of "Iragema and fly!The warrior caught her in his arms and placed hislips to hers. They were as twin fruits of the Araga lshrub, both sprung from the womb of the sameflower.The voice of Cauby called the stranger by name,and Iragema remained clinging for support to thetrunk of a palm.CHAPTER X.IN the silent wigwam meditates the old Page.Iragema leans against the rugged trunk that servesas a stay. Her large black eyes, fixed on the forestclearings, and sunk with sorrow, gaze with long andtremulous looks, threading and unthreading the seedpearlof teardrops that bedew her cheeks.The Ara, perched on the opposite shelf, views withsad green eyes her beautiful lady.From the day that saw the white warrior treadTabajara land she had been forgotten by Iragema.The rosy lips of the maid never opened now to let1Araca, a Brazilian shrub with fruit of the guava family.

IRAgEMA. 27her pick from them the fruity pulp or the paste ofgreen maize, 1 nor ever now did the sweet handcaress her or smooth the golden plumageof her head.If she spoke the beloved name of her mistress, theof Iraêma was never bent upon her, nor didsmilethe ear of the mistress even appear to know the voiceof that companion and friend, which had once beenso dear to her heart.Woe to her ! The Tupy nation called her Jandaia,2 because in her joy she made the plains resoundwith her vibrating song. But now, sad and silentbecause disdained by her mistress, she appeared nomore the beautiful Jandaia, but rather the homelyUrutao, 3 which knows only to groan.Low sloped the sun over the Serra heights its ; rayshardly gilded the highest crests. The hushed melancholyof evening which precedes the silence of nightbegan to oppress the various sounds of the prairie.Here and there a night-bird, deceived by the thickerdarkness of the forest, screeched aloud.The old man raised his bald forehead." Was it not the cry of the Inhuma bird 4 thatawoke the ear of Araken ? " said he, wondering.The maiden trembled. Already she was out of thewigwam, and back to answer the Page's question." It is the War-cry of Cauby the brave "!When the second screech of the midnight bird1Indian-corn, inilho.2Jandaia, also written NJietid&ia and Nhdndaia, which is anadjective that qualifies the ara or macaw, from nheng, to speak,antan, hard, rough, strong, and ard, the agent who acts, nttanfard.Ceara in Tupy means " the song of the jandaia," fromceino, to sing loud, and ar'ara, paroquet.3 Urutao, a night-bird.4Inhuma, a bird which sings regularly about midnight witha harsh unpleasant note. The orthographyis anhuma, froman ho, solitary, and anum, a well-known aotophagus, which theaborigines regarded as a bird of augury. Thus it would meanthe " solitary amtm" the unicorn-bird.

28 IRACEMA.reached her ear, Iragema ran towards the forest, fleetas a doe pursued by the hunter: she never drewbreath till she had reached the clearing, which lay inthe wood like a long lake.The first thing that met her eye was Martim, sittingtranquilly upon a Sapopema 1bough and eyeing allthat occurred. Opposite him a hundred Tabajarawarriors with Irapuam at their head formed a circle.The brave Cauby, his eye flashing with anger and hisweapons grasped in his muscular arm, stood up beforethem all.Irapuam had demanded the stranger, and the guidehad answered him simply11Slay Caubyfirst."The daughter of the Page* flew like an arrow. Beholdher graceful form shielding Martim from the blows ofthe braves. Irapuam roared with rage, as roars theounce attacked in its lair." Daughter of Araken," said Cauby in a whisper," lead the stranger to the wigwam. Araken alone cansave him."Iragema turned towards the white warrior. " ]"Come !He remained immovable."If the stranger will not come, Iragemawill diewith him."Martim arose ;but far from following the maiden, hewalked straight towards Irapuam. His sword flashedin the air." Chief! the Braves of my race have never refusedcombat. If he whom thou beholdest did not seekit,it was because his fathers have forbidden him toshed blood in the land of hospitality."The Tabajara chief yelled with joy his ; powerfularm wielded the tomahawk. But the two champions1Sapopema, a tree with thick branches. The wood is hard,and is much prized for furniture.

IRAÊMA. 29had scanty time to measure each other with the eye.When the first blow was being struck, Cauby andIragema were between them.In vain the daughter of Araken besought the Christian.Vainly did she throw her arms round him, endeavouringto withdraw him from the combat. Onhis side, Cauby as vainly strove to provoke Irapiiam,and to draw upon himself the wrath of the chief.At a sign from Irapiiam, the warriors seized thebrother and sister, and the combat began.Suddenly the hoarse sound of the War-trumpetthundered through the forest. The sons of the Serratrembled as they recognised the boom of the Seashelland the War-cry of the Pytiguaras, those Lordsof the Shores, which the fallen trees shade. Theecho came from the Great Wigwam, which perhapsthe enemy was at that moment attacking.The warriors flew there, carrying with them theirChiefs. With the stranger only remained the daughterof Araken.CHAPTER XI.THE Tabajara warriors, rushing tothe Taba, awaitedthe enemy in part of the 1Caiâra or Curral.The foe not coming, they went forth to seek him.They beat the forests all around and scoured theplains. There was no trace of the Pytiguaras ; yetthe well-known War-boom of the Shell from the shoreshad sounded in the ears of the mountain braves. Ofthis none doubted.Irapuam suspected that it was a stratagem of thedaughter of Araken to save the stranger, and he went1Caifara, from cat, a bit of burnt wood, and the desinencefara, what is or is made. " What is made of burnt wood,"i.e. ta strong enclosure of pointed stakes a Curral.

3 ostraight to the wigwam of the Page' as;the Guard lruns along the skirts of the forest when following thetrail of the escaping prey, so did the wrathful warriorhurry his steps.Araken saw the great Tabajara chief enter hiscabin, but he did not move. Sitting on his hammockwith crossed legs, he was giving ear to Iracema.The maiden related the events of the evening beholdingthe sinister countenance of Irapiiam, she;sprang to her bow and placed herself by the whitewarrior's side.Martim put her gently away and advanced a fewsteps.The protection with which the Tabajara maid surroundedhim, a warrior, annoyed him." Araken the !vengeance of the Tabajaras demandsthe white warrior ; Irapiiam comes to fetch him.""The Guest is the beloved of Tupan; who somolests the Stranger shall hear the voice of hisThunder."" It is the Stranger who has offended Tupan,robbing him of his Virgin who keeps the dreams ofthe Jure'ma draught."The mouth of Irapuam lies like the hiss of theGiboia," 2 exclaimed Iragema.Martim said" Irapuam is vile, and unworthy to be the Chief ofbraves."The Page spoke slow and solemnly" If the Virgin has yielded the flower of her Chastityto the white warrior, she will die ;but the Guest of1Guard, a wild dog, the Brazilian wolf. The word decomposedwith g, the relative u, to eat, and ara for the

IRACEMA.3ITupan is sacred none shall touch him; ;all shall servehim."Irapiiam raged; his hoarse growl rumbled withinhis muscular chest like the noise made by the Sucury lin the depths of the " river.The wrath of Irapiiam's anger will not let himhearken to the old !Page It will fallupon him if hedare to withdraw the Stranger from the vengeance ofthe Tabajaras."At this moment the venerable Andira, brother ofthe Page, entered the cabin. He grasped the terribletomahawk, and a still more terrible fury gleamed inhis " eyes.The vampire comes to suck Irapiiam's blood, ifindeed it is blood and not honey 2 that runs in theveins of him who dares to threaten the old Page inhis wigwam."Araken stayed his brother." Peace and"silence, Andira !The Pag raised his tall thin stature, and appearedlike the angry viper 3 who crouches on the groundthe better to spring upon his victim. His wrinkleswaxed deeper, whilst his shrunken lips displayed hiswhite and sharpened teeth." Let Irapiiam venture one step more, and thewrath of Tupan shall crush him with the weight of"this lean and withered hand !"At this moment Tupanis not with the Page,"replied the Chief.The Page laughed, and the sinister laugh seemed1Sucury or Sticurin, a gigantic serpent which lies in deeprivers, and can swallow an ox. The word comes from suu,an animal, and airy or cunt, a" snorter, the snorting or hissingbeast."2 Si e qtte tens sangue e nao met nas veias. The meaning ofthe word Irapiiamis "round honey." It must be rememberedthat Irapuam taunted Andira farther back about his name,which means "old vampire," and this was his retort.3 In the original Caniuana.

32 IRAÊMA.to roll round the enclosure like the bark of theAriranha. 1" Hear his thunder, 2 and let the warrior's soultremble as the earth in itsdepths ! "Araken pronouncing these terrible words, advancedto the middle of the wigwam. There he lifted up agreat stone and stamped with force upon the ground,which suddenly clave asunder. A frightful noise,which seemed torn from the bowels of the earth,issued out from the dark cavern.Irapuam neither trembled nor turned pale, but hefelt his sight growing dim and his lips lost their powerof speech." The Lord of Thunder is for the Page the Lord;of War will be for Irapuam."The grim warrior left the wigwam,and soon hismighty form disappeared in the twilight.brother resumed their conver-The Page and hissation in the doorway.Martini, still surprised at what he had beheld,could not take his eyes off the deep cavern, whichthe stamp of the old Page had opened in the ground.A dull sound, like the distant boom of the waves breakingupon the shore, still echoed through the depths.The Christian warrior reflected ;he could notbelieve that the God of the Tabajaras had given suchimmense power to his priest.Araken perceiving what was passing in the mind ofthe stranger, lit the Caximbo and seized the Maraca,or mystic rattle.1Ariranha, the largest species of Brazilian otter.2Ouve sen trovao. This was a stratagem practised by thePages to rule their votaries by terror. The hut was built upona rock which contained a subterraneous passage, communicatingby a narrow aperture with the plain. Araken had taken theprecaution to block up the two entrances with stones, and thus tohide them from the people. Removing one stone from each endcaused the air to rush through the narrow spiral channel with aloud noise, as the sea-shell murmurs when applied to the ear.

IRACÊMA. 33" It is time," he" said, to appease the wrath ofTupan and to hush the voice of his thunder."So saying he left the cabin.Irage'ma then approached the youth with laughingmouth and eyes sparkling with joy." The heart of Iragema is like the rice- plant, gladin the waves of the river. 1 None can hurt the whitewarrior in the wigwam of Araken."" Keep away from the enemy, Tabajara maid,"replied the stranger in a harsh voice. And retiringquickly to the opposite side of the wigwam, he hidhis face from the tender complaining looks of thevirgin." What has Iragema done that the white warriorshould turn away his eyes from her as if she were theworm of the earth ? "The maiden's words, gently whispered, reachedMartim's heart. Thus whisper the murmurs of thebreeze in the fan-leaves of the palm-tree. The youthfelt anger against himself and sorrow for her." Dost thou not hear, beautiful virgin ?" exclaimedhe, pointing to the speaking" cave."It is the voice of !Tupan" Thy god speaks by the mouth of his :Page Jfthe virgin of Tupan yield to the stranger the flowerof her chastity, she shall die"Iragema hung her head."It is not the voice of Tupan that the pale-facedwarrior hears, but the song of the white virgin thatcalls to him."Suddenly the strange sounds which came from thedepths of the earth ceased, and there was so deep asilence in the wigwam, that the pulses throbbingthrough the warrior's veins and the sighs that trembledon the virgin's lips were heard.1In the original abati, or abaty rfagua. Abati is rice, whichthrives when in water, and which Ira9ema used as a symbol ofher joy.C

34 IRAÊMA.CHAPTER XII.THE day darkened ; night was already coming on.The Pag returned to the wigwam, and again poisingthe slab of stone, closed with it the mouth of thesubterranean passage.Cauby also arrived from the great Taba, where heand his brother braves had retired after beating theforest in search of the Pytiguara enemy.In the centre of the wigwam, amidst the hammocks,slung and squared, Iragema spread the matof Carnauba palm, and served the remains of thegame with the wines made during the last moon.The Tabajara brave alone relished the supper; thegall which iswrung from the heart by sorrow did notembitter his palate.The Page drew from his calumet the sacred smokeof Tupan, which filled the depths of his lungs. Thestranger greedily inhaled the fresh air to cool hisboiling blood. The maiden seemed to sigh her soulaway, like honey dropping from the comb, in thefrequent sobs that burst from her trembling lips.Cauby soon retired to the great Taba ;the Pagestill inhaled the smoke which prepared him for themysteries of the Sacred Rite.There arises in the night silence a vibrating crywhich ascends to the sky. Martim raises up his headand listens. Again a similar sound is heard. Thewarrior whispers, so that only the maiden could hearhim" Hast heard, Iragema, the Seagull's cry ? "" Iragema has heard the cry of a bird which shedoes not know."" It istheAtyaty, 1 the Heron of the Sea, and Irage'mais the mountain-maid who has never trodden uponthe white beach upon which the waves break."1Aty.ily, seagull.

IRAQEMA. 35" The beach belongs to the Pytiguaras, the Lords ofthe Palm groves."The warriors of the great tribe who inhabited theseaboard called themselves Pytiguaras, Lords of theValleys but the;Tabajaras, their enemies, contemptuouslytermed them Potyuaras, or Shrimp-Eaters.Iragema did not wish to offend the white warrior,and therefore, when speaking of the Pytiguaras, shegave them the warlike name which they had chosenfor themselves.The stranger reflected, and retained for a moment,on the of lip prudence, the word which he was about toutter."The Seagull's songis the War-cry of the bravePoty, the friend of thy guest."The maiden trembled for her brethren. The fameof the fierce Poty, brother of Jacauna, had spreadafar, from the sea-shore to the heights of the Sena.Scarcely was there a wigwam which had not pantedwith a lust of vengeance in almost all of;them theblow of his unerring tomahawk had laid a warrior lowin his Camocim.Iragema thought that Poty came at the head ofhis braves to deliver his friend. Doubtless it was hewho had sounded the Sea-shell at the time when thecombat began. It was therefore in a tone of mixedsadness and sweetness that she replied"The stranger is saved; the brethren of Iragemawill die, for she will not speak."" Cast out this grief from thy soul, Tabajara maid !The stranger in leaving thy prairies will not leave inthem, like the famished tiger, a trail of blood."Iragema took the hand of the white warrior andkissed it."The stranger's smile," she continued, "blunts theremembrance of the harm they wish me."Martim rose and walked to the door." Where goes the white warrior ? "

36 IRACEMA."To seek Poty."," The guest of Araken may not leave tins wigwam,for the warriors of Irapuam will kill"A him."warrior owes his life to God and to his weaponsonly. He will not be protected by old men and"women !"What is one brave against a thousand? TheTamandua l is brave and strong, yet the cats of themountains kill and eat him because they are so many.The arms of the white warrior only reach as far asthe shadow of his body those of the Tabajaras flyhigh and straight as the Anaje." 2" "Every warrior has his day."The stranger would not see Iragema die, yetwould make her behold his death."heMartim hesitated, perplexed." Iragema will go and meet the Pytiguara Chief,and will bring to her guest the words of his warriorfriend."The Page finally awoke from his reverie. TheMaraca rattled in his right hand ;the bells rang intime to his stiff slow step.He called his daughter apart." If the braves of Trapiiam fall upon the wigwam,liftup the stone and hide the stranger in the bosomof the earth.""The guest must not be left alone. Wait tillIragema returns. The inhuma has not yet sung."The old man again sat upon his hammock. Themaiden went forth after fastening the door of thewigwam.i, ant-eater.2 Anaje, a powerful hawk, the local eagle.

IRAÊMA. 37CHAPTER XIII.THE daughter of Araken advances in the darkness ;she stands and listens. For the third time the cry ofthe Seagull sounds in her ears ;she bends her stepsstraight to the place whence it came, and arrives atthe edge of a lake. Her glance pierces the darknesSjbut finds nought of what it seeks. The tender voice,soft as the hum of the colibri bird, breaks the silence." Poty, the brave's white brother calls him by themouth of Iragema ! "Echo only answered her."The Daughter of his Foes comes to seek him,because the stranger loves him, and she loves thestranger."The smooth surface of the lake clove, and a figureappeared swimming towards the margin and risingfrom the water."Was it Martim who sent Iragema, since she knowsthe name of Poty, his brother in war ? ""The Pytiguara chief may speak; the white warrioris waiting."" Then Iragema will return and tell him that Potyhas come to save him.""The stranger knows, and sent Iragema to hearPoty's tidings."" The words of Poty will leave his mouth only forthe ear of his white brother."" He must wait then till Araken leaves and thewigwam remains deserted then will ; Iragema guidehim to the presence of the stranger."" Never, daughter of the !Tabajdras has a Pytiguarabrave crossed the threshold of a foeman's wigwamsave as a conqueror. Bring here the warrior of ihesea.""The vengeance of Irapuam hovers around thewigwam of Araken. Has the stranger's brother

38 IRACEMA.brought Pytiguara warriors enough to defend and tosaye him ? "Poty reflected."Relate, Maid of the Mountains, all that hashappened in these prairies since the Warrior of theSea planted foot upon them."Iragema related all how the wrath of Irapuam hadburst forth against the stranger, until the voice ofTupan, invoked by the Page, had " appeased his fury.The anger of Irapuam is like that of the bat ; hefears the light and flies only in the dark."The hand of Poty suddenly closed the maiden'slips his words sank to a;whisper." The Virgin of the Forest must hold her breath andhush her voice ;the foeman's ear listens in the dark."The leaves gently rustled as if trodden upon bythe restless Nambii. The sound at first came fromthe skirts of the forest and then swept towards thevalley. The valiant Poty gliding along the grass,like the clever prawn from which he took his nameand quickness, disappeared in the deep lake. Thewater without a murmur buried him in itslimpidwave.Iragema returned to the wigwam on the ; way shewarriors who wereperceived the shadows of manycrawling on the ground like the Intanha frog. 1Araken, seeing her come in, left the wigwam.The Tabajara maid related to Martim all that hadpassed between herself and Poty. The Christianwarrior rose up impetuously to rescue his Pytiguarabrother. Iragema threw round his neck her beautifularms." The Chief does not want his brother. He is theson of the waters, and the waters will protect him.Later, the stranger's ear shall listen to the words ofhis friend."1Jntanka, commonly called iheferrador, the blacksmith frog.

IRAÊMA. 39" Iragema.it is time that thy guest should leave thewigwam of the Page and the plains of the Tabajaras.He does not fear the braves of Irapiiam ;he fears theeyes of the Virgin of Tupan."" He will flyfrom them ? ""The stranger must fly from them as the Oitibodoes from the morning star."Martim hastened his steps." Ungrateful brave !go slay, first brother, thenself.Iragema will follow him to the happy plainswhere wend the shades of those that were."" Kill my brother, sayest thou, cruel maid?""Thy trail will guide the enemy to his hidingplace."The Christian halted suddenly midway in the wigwam,and there remained silent and still.Iragema,fearing to look upon him, fixed her eyes on his shadow,which the bright embers of the fire threw on thebroken wall of the wigwam.The shaggy dog lying close to the hot ashes gavesigns that a friend was approaching. The door interwovenwith the fronds of the Carnaiiba palm wasopened from without. Cauby entered.The Cauim wine has disturbed the spirit of thebraves. They are coming to slay the stranger."The maiden arose impetuously." Lift up the stone which closes the throat ofTupan, that he may conceal the guest."The Tabajara brave uphove the enormous slab,and poisedit on the" ground.The son of Araken shall lie across the Wigwamdoor,and if a brave pass over his body, let him riseno more from the ground."Cauby obeyed. The maiden fastened the door.A few moments passed. The war-cry of the bravessounds closer; the angry voices of Irapiiam andCauby rise above the rest.**They come, but Tupan will save his guest."

40 IRACEMA.At this moment, as if the thunder-god had heardthe words of his virgin, the cave, which till then wasstill, roared with a dull roar." Listen ! It is the voice of "!TupanIrac,eina presses the warrior's hand and leads himinto the cave. They descend together into the bowelsof the earth.CHAPTER XLV.THE Tabajara braves, excited by their copious libationsof foaming Cauim, were inflamed by the voiceIrapuam, who had so often led them to victory.Wine appeases the thirst of the body, but breedsanother and a wilder thirst in the savage mind.The braves yell vengeance against the audaciousstranger who had defied their arms, and who hadoffended the God of their fathers and their War Chief,the greatest of the Tabajaras.Then they leapt with rage and rushed about inthe darkness. The red light of the Ubiratan l whichshone in the distance guided them to the cabin ofAraken.From time to time the foremost of those whocame to spy the enemy raised themselves up from theground." The Pageis in the forest," they murmured."And the stranger?" inquired Irapuam." In the cabin with Iragema."The great chief leaps up with a terrific bound, andreaches the Wigwam-door followed by his warriors.The face of Cauby appears at the entrance. Hisarms guarded a space in front of him within thereach of a Maracaja's spring.2say1The iron wood of icbira (from pdi, wood, and antan, hard).2 isMaracajd a wild cat. It must not be confounded with

IRAÊMA. 41" Dastardly are the braves who attack in herdslike the Caetetiis. 1 The 2 Jaguar, Lord of the Forest,and the Anaje, Lord of the Clouds, combat the enemyalone."" Dirt be in the vile mouth which raises its voiceagainst the bravest of the Tabajara braves."Saying these words, Irapiiam brandished his fataltomahawk, but his arm stopped in the air. Thebowels of the earth again rumbled as they hadrumbled when Araken awoke the awful voice ofTupan.The braves raise a cry of fear, and, surroundingtheir Chief, force him away from the funest spot andthe wrath of Tupan, so evidently roused against them.Cauby once more lay down across the threshold ;his eyes sleep but his ears keep watch.The voice of Tupan became silent.Iragema and the Christian, lost in the depths ofthe earth, descended into a deep grotto. Suddenly avoice arising from the cavernous depths filled theirears." Does the Sea-Warrior listen to the words of hisbrother?"" It is Poty, the friend of thy guest," said the Christianto the maid.Iragema"He trembled.speaks by the mouth of Tupan."Martini then answered the Pytiguara"The words of Poty enter into the soul of hisbrother."the Afa'-acujd or passion-flower, which represents all the instrumentsof our Saviour's passion, as the pillar, nails, scourges,and crown of thorns.1Caetetîs is the wild pig of the forest, from caete, largevirgin forest, and suu, game, which euphony changes to /;/.a Jagtiar, amongst the aborigines, was applied to all theanimals that devoured them, especially the ounce. Jagitaretemeant " "the great eater." It is derived from ja, us," andgnarct, "the voracious."

4 2 " Does no other ear listen ?"" None save those of the Virgin who twice in onesun has saved the life of thy brother.""Woman is weak the ; Tabajara is revengeful and;lthe brother of Jacaiina is prudent."Iragema sighed and lay her head upon the youth'sbreast." Lord of Ira9ema, stop her ears that she may notlisten."Martim gently put away the graceful head." The Pytiguara Chief may speak ;the ears thatlisten are friendly and faithful."" His brother orders and Poty speaks. Ere the sunshall rise over the Serra, the Sea-Warrior must seekthe river-plain of the Herons' Nests. The Dead Starwill guide him to the white beach. No Tabajarabrave will follow him, because the Inubia of thePytiguaras will sound from the mountain-side.""How many Pytiguara braves accompany theirvaliant Chief?"'*Not one. Poty came alone with his arms. Whenthe bad spirits of the forest separated the Sea-Warriorfrom his brother, Poty followed his trail. His heartwould not let him return to call the braves of his Taba ;but he sent his faithful dog to the great Jacaiina.""The Pytiguara Chief is alone ;he must not soundthe Inubia, which will raise all the Tabajara bravesagainst him.""He must do it to save his white brother. Potywill mock at Irapuam, as he mocked him when hefought with a hundred men against his white brother."The daughter of the Pag, who had listened silently,now bent towards the Christian's ear."Iragema would save the stranger and his brother ;she knows her thoughts. The Pytiguara Chief is1Jacaiina was the celebrated Chief, brother of Poty, and afriend to Martim Scares Moreno. His mme is that of a blacktree, also called in Brazil Jacaranda.

IRAÊMA. 43staunch and brave. Irapuam is crafty and treacherousas the Acauan. 1 Before the stranger can reach theforest he- must fall, and his brother must also fall withhim."What can the Tabajara maid do to save thestranger and his brother?" asked Martim.One more sun and another must rise, then themoon of flowers 2 will appear. It is the feast-timewhen the Tabajara braves pass the night in the SacredWood and receive from the Page their happyWhen dreams.they are all sleeping, the white warrior willleave the plains of Ipii,and will vanish from the eyesof Irac.e'ma, but not from her soul."Martim strained the maiden to his breast, but soonhe gently repelled her. The contact of her beautifulform, sweet as the forest lily,warm as the nest of theBeijaflor, 3 was as a thorn in his heart. He rememberedthe awful warning of the Page.The voice of the Christian repeated to Poty theproject of Irac.ema the; Pytiguara chief, prudent asthe Tamandua', took thought, and then replied" Wisdom has spoken by the mouth of the TabajaraVirgin. Poty will wait the moon of flowers."CHAPTER XV.THE day was born and dead. The fire, companionof the night, already shone in the Wigwam of Araken.The stars, daughters of the moon, rolled their slowand silent courses in the blue heavens, awaiting thereturn of their absent mother.1The Acattan is a Secretary-bird that destroys serpents. Theword is from" "caa, wood, and tian, from ;/, to eat a wood -eater.2 A lua das flares, the moon of flowers.3 Beijaflor, literally Kiss-flower, the humming-bird.

44 1RACEMA.Martini gently rocked himself; and his soul, likethe white hammock which waved from side to side,Therewavered between one and another thought.the pale-faced virgin awaited him with chaste affection.Here the dark maiden smiled upon him withardent love.Iragema leant languidly against the head of thehammock ;her large black eyes, tender as those ofthe Sabia-thrush, sought the stranger and pierced hissoul. The Christian smiled. The virgin, tremblinglike the Sahy-bird l fascinated by the serpent, bent heryielding form and reclined upon the warrior's bosom.He strained her passionately to his heart, his lipssought her longing lip, and thus they celebrated inthis sanctuary of the soul the hymen of love.In a dark obscure corner sat the Page, plunged inthe contemplation of things remote from this world.He heaved one long sad sigh. Did his heart forebodethat which his eyes could not see ? Or was it someill-omenedpresentiment concerning the future of hisrace which re-echoed in the soul of Araken ?No one ever knew !HeThe Christian gently repelled the Indian girl.would not leave a trail of disgrace in the hospitableWigwam. He closed his eyes that he might not seeher, and endeavoured to fill his thoughts with thename and the fear of God.Christ !Jesus Mary ! !A calm returned to the warrior's breast, but everytime his eye rested upon the Tabajara virgin he feltthe blood course through his veins like liquid fire.Thus when the thoughtless child stirs the live embers,its sparks fly out and consume its flesh.The Christian shut his eyes, but amid the darknessof his thoughts the Tabajara virgin ever arose, andever more beautiful. In vain his heavy lids invoked1Sahy, a beautiful blue bird.

IRAÊMA. 45sleep. They opened despite all his endeavours. Aninspiration from Heaven at last descended upon histroubled mind." Beautiful maid of the desert ! this is the lastnight of thy guest under the roof of Araken. Wouldthat he had never come there ! For thy sake and forhis own, make his sleep glad and happy."" Let the warrior command, and Iraêma will obey.What can she do to make him glad ? "The Christian murmured low that the old Pagemight not hear him."The Virgin of Tupan keepsthe dreams of theJurema, which are sweet and "pleasantA ! sad smile was " Iracema's answer.The stranger isgoing to live for ever encircling1the white virgin. Never more will his eyes beholdthe daughter of Araken ; yet he wishes that sleepshould close his lids, and that dreams should convey"him back to the land of his brothers !" Sleepis the warrior's rest," said Martim, " anddreams are the gladness of his soul. The strangerwould not bear sadness with him from the Land ofHospitality, nor would he leave it in the heart ofIragema."The virgin sat unmoved." Go ! and return with the wine of Tupan."When Ira9ema came back, the Page was no longerin the Wigwam. She drew from her bosom the bowlwhich she had hidden under her Carioba 2 of cottoninterwoven with feathers. Martim seized it from herhands, and drained the few drops of bitter greenliquid. Presently the hammock received his torpidform.Now he may live with Iragema, and gather the1In the original a cintura da virgem. The savages call asuccessful lover aguaâba, which literally means, the womanwhom the man's arm encircles.*Carioba, a cotton garment ornamented with parrots' feathers.

46 IRAgEMA.kisses from her lips which ripened there amidstsmiles, like the fruit in the corolla of the flower. Heniay love her, and may savour the honey and perfumeof this love without leaving itspoison in the virgin'sbreast.The joy was life, only more real and intense. Theevil was a dream, an illusion ;to him the maiden wasan image, a shadow.Iragema withdrew, silent and sorrowful. The warrior'sarms opened, and his lips gently murmured hername.The Juruty flitting about the forest hears the tenderand fliescooing of her mate. She flutters her wingsto meet him in the warm nest. Thus the virgin ofthe desert nestled in the warrior's arms.When morning came, it found Iragema sleeping likea butterflyin the petals of the beautiful cactus. Hercheek was suffused with the blushes of modesty, andas the first sunbeam sparkles through the early dawn,on her brightened face shone the happy smile of thebride, the aurora of happy love.Martim seeing Iragemastillpressed to his heart,thought that the dream continued, and closed his eyesnot to disturb it.The PoQema-trump of the braves thundering throughthe valley awoke him from the sweet illusion. He knewthen that he was alive and awake. His cruel handsmothered the kiss which expanded like a flower onthe bride's lips." The kisses of Iragema are sweet in dreams. Thewhite warrior fills his soul with them. But in life thelips of the Virgin of Tupan are bitter and painful likethe Jurema-thorns."The daughter of Araken hid her joy in her heart.She was hushed and startled like the bird which feelsthe coming storm. She quickly withdrew from theWigwam, and plunged into the river according tocustom.

IRAgEMA. 47The Jandaia never returned to the Wigwam, andTupan no longer owned his Virgin in the Tabajaraland.CHAPTER XVI.THE moon's white disc rose slowly above the horizon.The brightness of the sun pales the virgin of theheavens, as the warrior's love blanches the wife'scheek." Jacy!" 1 . . . " Our mother !" exclaimed the Tabajarawarriors. And brandishing their bows, theychanted the song of the new moon, discharging at hershowers of arrows."Thou art come into the heavens, O mother ofthe braves ! Thou turnest thy face once more tobehold thy sons. Thou bringest waters to fill therivers, and pulp to the Cujii-nut."Thou art come, O bride of the sun! Thydaughters, the virgins of the earth, smile at thy approach.May thy soft light bring love into the heartsof the brave, and make fruitful the young mother'sbosom."The evening was falling. The women and childrensported in the vast Ocara. The youths who had notyet won their name by notable deeds were runningraces in the valley.The warriors followed Irapuam to the SacredWood, where the Page and his daughter awaited themfor the mysteries of the Jurema.Iragema had already lit the fires of 2joy !1J ac y> tne moon, literally our mother. Amongst the savagesthe moon was a month, and at the change they held their feast.2Fogos de alegria. The savages called their fire-faggots toryand toryba.A joy-feast was a great number of fires.

48 IRAgEMA.Araken remained statue-like and ecstatic in thecentre of a cloud of smoke.'Each warrior on arriving placed at his feet an offeringfor Tupan. One brought the succulent game,another water-flour, a third Piracem l of the Trahira, 2and so on each in turn. The old Page, for whomwere the gifts, received them with disdain.When all had taken seat round the Great Fire, thepriest of Tupan commanded silence by a gesture, andthree times pronounced aloud the dread name, asthough to fill himself with the God who inspired him."Tupan! Tupan! Tupan!"Three times the distant echoes answered the name.Irage'ma came with the Igaaba full of the greenliquor. Araken decreed to each warrior his dreams,and distributed the wine of the Jurema, which was totransport the Tabajara brave to the happy land.The mighty hunter dreamt that stags and Pdcas 3ran to meet his arrows and transfixed themselves ;atlength, tired of wounding them, he 4dug the Bucan inthe earth, and roasted so much game that a thousandwarriors could not finish it in a year.The conqueror of hearts dreamt that the mostbeautiful of the Tabajdra virgins left their fathers'Wigwams to follow him, slaves to his will and pleasure.Never had the hammock of any chief witnessed thereality of such wild warm visions.The hero's vision was of tremendous struggles andfearful combats, whence he always issued victoriousand covered with fame and glory.1In the original farinha cCaîa. This is a sort of flour liketapioca, which the Indians used to eat mixed with water.2Piracem de trahira. Trahira is a river fish. Pira caetnmeans fish roasted.3Pdcas (Cavia pdca], a small rodent in Brazil like a pig twomonths old ; its flesh is eaten.4Bucan is a Tupy word for a way of grilling flesh, which theFrench of Maranhao turn into boticaner, and whence comes ourEnglish buccaneer.

49The old man saw his youth renewed in his numerousoffspring, like the dry trunk acquiring new strengthand sap, and stillsprouting into buds and flowers. .All felt such lively, such lasting happiness, that inone night they lived many moons.Their lips murmured, their gestures spoke and;the Page, who saw and heard all, gathered from theirunveiledsouls their most secret thoughts.When Ira9ema had offered to each brave the wineof Tupan, she left the wood. The rites did not permither to be present at the sleep of the warriors, norhear and see their dreams.She went her way straight to the cabin, whereMartim awaited her."Let the white warrior take up his arms. It istime to go."" Lead me to my brother Poty."The bride made straight for the valley, the Christianfollowing her. They reached the rock base, whichfell sloping with clumps of foliage upon the marginof the lake." Let the stranger call his brother."Martim imitated the cry of the seagull.The stone which closed the entrance of the grottofell, and the figure of Poty the brave appeared in thegloom.The two brothers pressed forehead to forehead andbreast to breast, showing that they had but one heart." Potyishappy because he sees his brother, whomthe bad spirit of the forest had borne away from hissight.""Happyis the brave who has a friend at his sidelike the valiant Poty ; all the other warriors will envyhim."Iraêma sighed, thinking that the affection of thePytiguara sufficed to the happiness of the stranger."The Tabajara braves sleep. The daughter ofAraken will guide the strangers."D

50 IRAÊMA.The bride led the way ;the two warriors followedbehind. When they had gone about the distance ofa heron's flight, the Pytiguara chief began to be uneasy,and whispered in the ear of the ChristianMy brother had better send the daughter of thePage back to the Wigwam of her father. The warriorscould march quicker without her."Martim felt a sudden sadness ;but the voice ofprudence and friendship prevailed in his heart. Headvanced to Ira9ema and spoke softly to soothe hersorrow." The deeper the root in the earth, the harder it isto withdraw the plant. Each step Iragema takes onthe road of farewell is a root which she plants inthe heart of her guest."" Iragdma would accompany him as far as the bordersof the Tabajara land, in order to return with morecalmness in her breast."Martim did not answer. They continued theirmarch, and as they walked the night fell, the starspaled, and finally the freshness of dawn gladdenedthe forest the ; morning clouds, purely white as cotton,appeared in the heavens.Poty looked at the forest and stopped. Martimunderstood, and said to Ira9ema"Thy guest no longer treads on the land of theTabajaras. It is the right moment to bid him farewell."CHAPTER XVII.IRAÊMA placed her hand upon the bosom of thewhite warrior."The daughter of the Tabajaras has now left theland of her fathers, and she may speak."

IRAÊMA. 51" What keepest thou vvkhin thy bosom, beautiful"daughter of the forest ?She gazed with brimming eyes at the Christian."Iragema cannot tear herself from the stranger.""Yet thus it must be, daughter of Araken. Returnto the cabin of thine old father, who awaits thee.""Araken has no longer a daughter."Martini turned towards her with a harsh and severegesture. "A warrior of my race never leaves the \Vigwam ofhis host widowed of its joy. Araken will embrace hisdaughter, and shall not curse the ungrateful stranger."The girl hung her head veiled in the ; long blacktresses which hung about her neck, she crossed herbeautiful arms over her bosom, and stood robed in hermodesty. Thus the rosy cactus, before opening intoa lovely flower, retains within its breast the perfumedbud."Thy slave will accompany thee, white warrior,because thy blood sleeps in her bosom."Martim trembled."The bad spirits of the night have disturbed thespirit of Iragema."The white warrior was dreaming when Tupanabandoned his Virgin, because she betrayed the secretof the Jurema."The Christian hid his face from the light." "O God ! exclaimed his trembling lip.Both remained silent.At last Poty spokeThe Tabajara warriors awake."The heart of the bride, like that of the stranger, wasdeaf to the voice of prudence. The sun arose in thehorizon, and his majestic glance descended from thewooded uplands to the forest. Poty stood like asolitary tree-trunk wailing for his brother to givethe signal for departure. It was Iragema who brokesilence.

52 IRACEMA." Come ! the life of the warrior is in danger untilhe treads the Pytiguara land."Martini followed the girl silently, and she flittedbefore him amongst the trees like the timid Acoty. 1Sorrow preyed upon his heart, but the perfume waftedon the air by the passage of the beautiful Tabajarafanned the love in his warrior-breast. Still his stepwas slow and his breathing was oppressed.Poty reflected. In his youthful brain had lived thespirit of an Abaete. 2 The Pytiguara Chief thoughtth love is like Cauim, which, drunk with moderation,fortifies the brave, but in excess weakens the hero'scourage. He knew how fleet was the Tabajara's foot,and he expected the moment when he must die defendinghis friend.As the shades of evening began to sadden the day,the Christian stopped in the middle of the forest.Poty lit the fire of hospitality. The bride unfoldedthe white hammock of cotton fringed with the feathersof the Toucan, 3 and ithung to the branches of a tree." Husband of IraQema, thy hammock awaits thee."The daughter of Araken then went and sat afar offon the root of a tree, like the solitary doe who hasbeen driven forth from the sunny plain by her ungratefulmate. The Pytiguara warrior disappeared inthe thickest of the foliage.Martim sat silent and sorrowful, like the trunk ofsome tree from which the wind has torn the beautifulCipo 4 which embraced it. The passing breeze at lastbore on it one murmur" "Iracerna !It was the cry of the mate.back to the sunny plain.The wounded doe flew1Acoty, generally written cttlia, a racoon.2 Abaete means a good, strong, wise, clever man.3Tticano, a well-known bird with gorgeous plumage, black,green, scarlet, and orange, with a large beak.4Cip6, a Diana or climbing plant,

53The forest distilled its sweetest fragrance and wasvocal with its most harmonious music ;the sighs ofthe heart mingled with the whispers of the wilderness.It was the feast of Love, the song of Hymen.Already the morning light pierced the dense thicket,when the solemn and sonorous voice of Poty soundedamidst the hum and the buzz " of waking life."The Tabajaras walk through the forest !Iragema sprang from the arms that encircled herand from the lips which held her captive sprangfrom the hammock lightly to the ground, like theagile Zabele, 1 and seizing the weapons of her spouse,led him into the depths of the bush.From time to time the prudent Poty laid his ear tothe face of earth, and his head inclined from side toside, as the cloud on the summit of a rock waves wiihevery puff of the coming storm." What does the ear of the warrior Poty hear ? "" It listens to the flying step of the Tabajara. Hecomes like the Tapyr 2" tearing through the forest."The Pytiguara warrior is like the Ostrich 3 whichfliesalong the earth ;we will follow him like his wings,"said Iraêma.The Chief shook his head anew."Whilst the Sea-Warrior slept the enemy ran.Those who first set out are now near, as the hornsare to the bow."Shame gnawed the heart of Martim." Let the Chief Poty and fly save Iraêma. Thebad warrior, who would not listen to the voice of hisbrother and the wish of his bride, can only die."Martim began to retrace his steps." The soul of the white warrior does not listen to1Zabele, a small bird somewhat like a partridge.2Tapyr,hide is useful, and of buff colour. It is also calleda well-known animal about the size of a calf. TheTapy^ra, and Tapyra caap6ra.În the original Etna, the South American ostrich.

54 IRACEMA.his mouth. Potylife.".The lip of Iraêma spoke notand his brother have but oneonly smiled.CHAPTER XVJILTHE forest literally trembled as it echoed the careerof the Tabajara braves.The form of Irapiiam the Great first looms amidstthe trees. His suffused eye caught sight of the whitewarrior through a cloud of blood a hoarse and;tigerlikeroar burst from his brawny chest.The Tabajara Chief and his tribe were about to fallupon the fugitives like the swollen waves which breakon the Mocoribe's l flank.But hush ! in the distance sounds the bark ofthe Indian dog.Poty gave a cry of joy." It is Poty's hound that guides the warriors of hisTaba to save his brother."The hoarse sea-shell of the Pytiguaras bellowedthrough the forest. The great Jacaiina, Lord of theSea-shores, was marching from the river of the heronswith the best of his braves.The Pytigudras receive the first assault of the foeon the jagged heads of their shafts, which they loosedin showers like the porcupine 2 raising his quills.Presently resounded the War-Poêma of the Tabajdrasthe ; space between the enemies was narrowed,and the hand-to-hand combat began.Jacaiina attacked Irapiiam. The horrible fight1Mocoribe, now called Mttcurife, means " to make glad ;"it is a hill of sand in a bay of the same name, a league fromFortaleza, the great seaport town of Ceara.2 In the original Coandii, porcupine.

IRACEMA. 55was that of ten braves, yet it did not exhaust thestrength of the two great chiefs. When their tomahawksclashed, the battle trembled to the heart asone man.The brother of Iragema came straight to thestranger who had taken the daughter of Araken fromthe hospitable Wigwam the trail of ; vengeance ledhim ;the sight of his sister maddened him. Caubythe brave furiously assaults the enemy.Iragema remained by the side of her warrior andspouse. She saw Cauby from afar and cried" Let the Lord of Iragema listen to the prayer ofhis slave ; let him not shed the blood of the son ofAraken. If the warrior Cauby must die, let it be bythe hand of Iragema, not by his."Martini looked at the savage with eyes of horror.'Would Iragema slay her brother ? "" Iragema would see the blood of Cauby stainher hand rather than the hand of her lord, becausethe eyes of Iragema dwellupon him, and not uponherself."The battle still rages. Cauby fights with fury.The Christian hardly defends himself, but the poisonedarrows from the young wife's bow save him from theblows of the enemy.Poty had already laid low the old Andira and allthe braves who during the struggle had encounteredhis good tomahawk. Martim leaves to him the sonof Araken and seeks out Irapiiam."Jacaiina is a great Chief; his War-collar 1 thriceencircles his neck ! This Tabajara belongs to thewhite warrior."" Revengeis the honour of warfare, and Jacaunaloves the friend of Poty."The great Pytiguara chief upraisedhis formidable1Seu collar de guerra. The collar which the savages madeof the teeth of vanquished enemies (taking from each one tooth),was a blazon and a proof of valour.

56 IRAgEMA.tomahawk. The duel between Irapiiam and Martinibegan. The Christian's sword was shivered by thesavage's tomahawk. The Tabajdra Chief advancedupon his unarmed adversary.Iragema hissed like the Boicininga, 1 and threwherself between her warrior and the Tabajara; atonce the massive weapon trembled in his powerfulright hand and his arm fell inanimate by his side.The Pogema of victory sounded. The Pytiguarawarriors, headed by Jacaiina and Poty, swept theforest. The Tabajaras snatched, as they fled, theirChief from the hatred and vengeance of the daughterof Araken, who had the power of conquering him, asthe Jandaia prostrates the tallest and strongest palmtreeby nibbling the core.The eyes of Irage"ma, scanning the forest, saw theground strewed with the bodies of her brethren, andin the distance the remnant of their war-party flyingin a black cloud of dust. That blood which stainedthe ground was the same brave blood which now litup her cheeks with shame.The grief-drops moistened her beautiful cheek.Martim withdrew that he might not embarrass hersorrow. He wished her naked woe to bathe itself intear floods.CHAPTER XIX.POTY returned from pursuing the foe. His eyes filledwith delight when he saw the white warrior safe.The faithful dog followed him closely, still lickingfrom its hairy mouth the Tabajara blood, of which ithad drunk its fill. Its master caressed it, pleasedby its courage and devotion. It had saved Martimby guiding so diligently the warriors of Jacaiina.1A large species of boa.

IRAgEMA. 57" The bad spirits of the forest may again separatethe white warrior from his Pytigudra brother. Thedog will henceforth follow him, so that even from adistance Poty may hear his call."" But the dog is thy companion and faithfulfriend."" It will be Poty's companion and friend still morewhen it serves his brother than when it serves him.The white warrior shall call it Japy,' l and it will'be the fleet foot with which from afar they will runto each other."Jacaiina gave the signal of departure.The Pytiguara warriors marched for the glad banksof the Heron's River, where rose the great Taba of thePrairie Lords.The sun declined and again soared in the heavens.The warriors arrived where the sea-range fell towardsthe midlands. Already they had passed that part ofthe mountain which, being scant of tree and shornlike the Capivara, 2 the people of Tupan had calledIbyapina. 3Poty took the Christian where grew a leafy Jatoba", 4that overtopped the trees of the Serra's highest pointwhen waving before the wind; it seemed to sweepthe sky with its immense dome." On this spot the white warrior's brother wasborn," said the Pytigudra Chief.Martim embraced the enormous trunk.1J a Py means " our foot."2Capivara , capiudra (that which lives on Capim, the coarsegrass of the country), is a kind of water-hog. The Peruvianpeople of Rio Branco wear the teeth of this animal as earrings.3Ibyapina means " bald land."4 Jatobd, an enormous and royal-looking tree. The place\vhere this scene took place is now called Villa Vi9osa, wheretradition says Poty, afterwards Camarao, was born. Jatoba isthe name of a river and of a Serra in South Quiteria, and Jatobawas the name of the father of Poty and Jacauna.

58 IRAgEMA."Jatoba, thou that sawest my brother Poty comeinto the world : the stranger embraces thee " !May the lightning wither thee, O tree of thewarrior Poty when his brother abandons him."!Then " the chief spoke as follows :Then Jacaiina was not yet a warrior. Jatoba,our greatest Chief, was leading the Pytiguaras tovictory. As soon as the full waters began to run, hemarched straight for the Serra. Arriving here, hesent for the whole Taba, that itmight be nearer theenemy, to vanquish them again. The same moonwhich saw their arrival shone upon the hammock inwhich Sahy, his wife, gave him one more warrior ofhis blood. The moonlight played amongst the leafageof the Jatoba, and the smile upon the lips of thegreat and wise Chief who had taken its name andmight."Iracema approached.1The turtle-dove, feeding in the sands, leaves itsmate, who flits restlessly from branch to branch, andcoos that the absent one may reply. Thus the forestgirl wandered in search of her prop, softly humminga gentle, tender song.Martim received her with his soul in his eyes, and"leading his wife on the side of his heart, and hisfriend on the side of his strength, returned to theRanch 2 of the Pytiguaras.CHAPTER XX.THE moon waxed rounder.Three suns had passedsince Martim and Iragema had been in the landsof the Pytigudras, Lords of the banks of the rivers1In the original Rdla.2Rancho is a shed made of mud and stick?, and thatched withSape leaves or roofed with tiles.

IRACEMA. 59Camocim and Acarau. 1 The strangers had hungtheir hammocks in the large cabin of the greatJacaiina. The brave Chief claimed for himself thepleasure of being the white warrior's host.Poty abandoned his wigwam that he might accompanyhis brother of war to the cabin of his brotherby blood, and to enjoy every moment that the seawarriorcould spare to devote to friendship from thelove of Iragema.Darkness had already left the face of the earth, butMartim saw that it had not left the face of his wifesince the day of the combat." Sorrow"lives in the soul of Iragema !"The wife's gladness can come only from her husband.When thy eyes leave Iragema's, tears fillthem."" Why weeps the daughter of the Tabajaras " ?"This is the Taba of the Pytiguaras, enemies ofher people. The sight of stillIragema sees the skullsof her brothers staked round the Caigara, her earsstill listen to the death-song of the Tabajara captives,her hand still touches arms dyed with the blood ofher fathers."The bride placed her two hands on the warrior'sshoulders and reclined upon his breast." Iragema will suffer all for her warrior and lord.The Atd fruit 2 is sweet and pleasant, but whenbruised it sours. Thy wife would not that her lovesour thy heart. She would fill it with the sweetnessof honey."" Let calm return to the breast of the daughterof the Tabajaras. She shall leave the Taba of herpeople's foes."The Christian marched straight to the cabin ofJacaiina. The Great Chief was joyful on seeing his1Two rivers of Ceara, discharging into the ocean.2The Aid, custard-apple.

60 IRAÊMA,guest arrive, but joy soon fled from his warlike browwhen Martim said"The white warrior isgoing to leave thy cabin,Great Chief.""Then there issomething wanting to him in thecabin of Jacaiina ? "" Thy guest hath wanted nothing. He was happyhere ;but the voice of his heart sends him to anotherplace/'" Then leave, and take all that is needful for thejourney. May Tupan fortify my brother, and bringhim back again to the cabin of Jacaiina, that he maycelebrate his wellcoming."Poty arrived hearing that the sea-warrior was:going, he said"Thy brother will accompany thee.""Will not Poty's warriors need their chief?"" Unless my brother desires that they go with Poty,Jacaiina will lead them to " victory."The cabin of Poty will be deserted and sad.""The heart of the white brave's brother would bestill more desert and sad without him."The sea-warrior left the banks of the River of theHerons, and marched towards the land where the sunsets. His wife and friend followed his steps. Theywent beyond the fertile forest range, where the abundantfruits breed a swarm of flies, from which it takesthe name of Meruoca. 1They crossed the little streams which dischargetheir waters into the River of the Herons, and theysighted on the far horizon a high mountain-range.The day expired ;a black cloud seemed to be advancingfrom the sea. It was the Urubus, 2 that feast onthe dead which the ocean throws up on the beach,and return with the night to their nests.1Mem-oca means " the Fly's House." It is a Serra close toSobral, fertile in all that is useful as food.3UrubU) the Brazilian turkey-buzzard.

2 Mundahii, a tortuous river rising in the Serra of Uruburetama ;I RACE MA. 6 1The travellers slept at Uruburetama. 1 When thesun reappeared,it found them on the banks of theriver which rises in the Serra-gap, and descends windinglike a serpent into the plain. Its mazes deceive,at every step, the pilgrims who follow its tortuouscourse ;for which reason it was called the Mundahii. 2Following its cool banks, Martim, on the secondsun, beheld the green seas and the white beaches,where the murmuring waves now sob, and then, ragingwith fury, break in flakes of foam.The eyes of the white warrior dilated at the vastexpanse, his chest heaved. This same sea also kissedthe white sands of the Potengi, 3 his cradle, where hefirst saw the light of America. He threw himself intothe waves, and revelled in the thought that he bathedhis body in the waters of his native country, and hissoul in yearning for it.Iraêma felt her heart weep, but soon her warrior'ssmile reassured her.Meantime Poty from the top of a palm tree arrowedthe savoury Camoropim, 4 which sported in the littlebay of Mundahii, and prepared the Moquemrefection.for theirCHAPTER XXI.THE sun had already left the zenith. The travellersreach the mouth of that river where the savoury Tra-1Uruburetama, avultures' nests.high mountain-rangewhich swarms withfrom munde, a snare, and hu or u a river.3 Potengi, the river that waters the city of Natal, a seaporttown of Rio Grande do Norte, where Martim Soares Morenowas born.4Camoropim, a large fish, tasting like a codfish.

62 IRAgEMA.hira 1 salmon breeds abundantly, and whose banks arepeqpled by fishermen of the great Pytiguara race.They received the strangers with that generoushospitality which was a law of their religion, and Potywith the respect due to so great a warrior, and to abrother of Jacaiina, the most powerful Chief of thePytiguaras.To rest the travellers, and to dismiss them withproper ceremony, the Chief of the Tribe receivedMartim, Iragema, and Poty in the Jangada, and spreadinga sail to the breeze, bore them far down the coast.All the fishermen in their rafts followed their Chief,and filled the air with a song of lament, accompaniedby the murmurings of the Uraga, 2 which imitates thesobbing of the wind.Beyond the fishing tribe, and nearer the Serras, wasthe hunting tribe. They occupied the borders of theSoipe, 3 covered with forests, where abounded deer,4the fat Paca, and the slender Jacu. Hence thedwellers of these regions had named it the Hunting-Ground.Jaguarassii. or Great Tiger, the Chief of these hunters,had a Wigwam on the banks of the lake formed bythe river as it nears the sea. Here the travellers metwith the same warm reception which they had receivedfrom the fishermen.After leaving Soipe, the travellers crossed the river1As saborosas trahiras. The river Trahiry, from trahira,name of a savage fish, and oy water or river, is thirty leaguesnorth of the capital of Ceara.2Ui-dfa, a sort of flute which they made of big shells.3 Soipe, hunting-ground, from s&0, "game," and ipe, "theplace where." Now it is called Siupe, and its river and villagebelong to the parish and township of Fortaleza. It is situatedon the banks of marshes called Jaguarassu, at the mouth of theriver.4 Jactc (Crax Penelope], a large bird, of which there are fourdifferent kinds ; it tastes and looks, when cooked, somewhat like,but much better than, our pheasant.

IRAgEMA. 63Pacoty, 1 on whose borders flourished the leafy banana,waving its green plumes.Farther on is the Igudpe 2 stream, whose waters encirclethe dunes of sand.In the distance, crowning the horizon, appeared ahigh sand-hill, snowy white as the ocean foam. Thesummit overhung the palms and cocos, and appearedlike the bald head of the Condor, 3 there awaiting thestorm blowing up from the ocean bounds." Poty knows the great hill of sand " ? asked theChristian." Poty knows all the land that belongs to the Pytiguaras,from the banks of the great river which formsan arm of the 4 sea, to the banks of the stream wherethe Jaguar lives. He has been already to the heightMocoribe, and thence he has seen, far at sea, thebig Igaras 5 of the white warriors, thebrother, who dwell in Mearim."enemies of my"Why callest thou the great sand-hill Mocoribe?"" The fisherman of the beach, who puts out to sea inis sad because heJangadas, there where the Aty 6 flies,is far from his cabin where sleep the children of hisblood. When he returns, and his eyes first beholdthe hill of sand, gladness returns to the man's breath.Then he says that the hill of the sands gives joy."1Pacoty^ river of the Pacobas. It rises in the Serra of Baturite,and empties itself into the ocean, two leagues north ofAquiras. Pacoba, also called Pacoeira and Mtisa, is the indigenousbanana of Brazil, a shrubby growth some ten or twelve feet high,and as thick as a man's thigh, yet so soft that it may be cut downwith a single stroke of the sword.2 Igudpe, a bay distant two miles from Aquiras. The word,which is common in Brazil, means " water which encircles."3The well -known and monstrous bird of the eagle species,with a very hard, sharp beak that will pierce a bull's hide.4Rio queforma uin bra$o do mar. This is the Parnahyba, themain river of Piauhy, and literally means "arm running fromthe sea."5 Igdras, big canoe?, meaning the ships of the French.6 Aty, seagull.

64 IRAÊMA." The fisherman says well ; thy brother, like him,ishappy when he sees the mountain of sand."Martim and Poty ascended the head of Mocoribe.Iragema followed, with her eyes, her spouse, wanderinglike the Jaganan l round the beautiful bay, whichearth formed to receive the sea. On her way shecollected the sweet Cajiis, which appease the warriors'thirst, and gathered delicate shells to ornament herneck.The travellers dwelt in Mocoribe three suns. ThenMartim directed his steps beyondit. The wife andfriend followed him to the bank of a river, whosebanks were overflowed and covered with mangrove.The sea entering into it formed a basin of clearcrystalline water, which appeared almost scooped outof the stone like a vase of pottery.Whilst reconnoitring this place the Christian warriorbegan to reflect. To the present time he hadmarched without any object, and he had allowedhis steps to guide him where they would. He hadno other thought except to absent himself from theTaba of the Pytiguaras, that he might the bettersoothe the sorrow in Iragema's heart. The Christianknew by experience that travel cures a Saudade, becausethe soul rests whilst the body moves. Butnow seated on the beach he pondered.Poty came.;

IRAÊMA. 65the white Tapuios, 1 the allies of the Tabajaras, enemiesof Poty's nation."The PytiguaVa chief reflected and replied"My brother may go and bring his warriors. Potywill plant his Taba close to the Mayry 2 of hisfriend."Iragema drew nigh. The Christian made a gestureof silence to the Pytiguara " chief.The voice of the husband is silent, and his eyesfall when Iragema comes. Shall she depart ? "" Thy husband wants thee nearer, that his voiceand eyes may penetratestilldeeper into thy soul."The beautiful savage was radiant with smiles, asthe ripening flower opens its petals, and she leantupon the shoulder of her warrior." Iragema listens to thee."" These plains are joyful, and will be more sowhen Iragema dwells in them. What says herheart?"" Iragema' s heart is ever glad when she is with herlord and warrior."The Christian followed the bank of the river andchose a place for his Wigwam. Poty felled theCarnaiiba to make props of its trunks the ; daughterof Araken weaved, fanlike, the fronds of the palmsto thatch the roof and cloth the walls. Martim dugthe trenches, and made a door of laths and layers ofbamboo.When night came, the lovers slung their hammockin their new cabin, and the friend slept in the porchwhich faced the rising sun.]1Brancos tapuios ; in Tupy, 7âptiitininga. A name the Pytiguarasgave to the French, to distinguish them from Tupinambas.The word means the " Deserters of their village."2Mayry) city, comes from mayrt stranger, and was appliedto the settlements of the whites to distinguish them from theIndian villages ;in fact, a strangery.E

66 IRACEMA.CHAPTER XXII.POTY saluted his friend and spoke as follows :"Ere the father of Jacauna and Poty, the valiantwarrior Jatoba, ruled over all the Pytiguara warriors,the Great Tomahawk of the Nation was in the right1hand of Batuirete, the Head Chief, Sire of Jatoba.It was he who came along the sea-beach to the riverof the Jaguars, and expelled the Tabajaras into theinterior, and dictated to each tribe the limits of itslands. Then he entered the inner regions as far asthe Serra which takes his name."When his stars were many, 2 so many that hisCamocim no longer contained all the nuts that markthe number of his years, his body began to inclineearthwards, his arm stiffened like the branch of theunbending Ubiratan, and his eyes grew dark. Hethen called the warrior Jatoba and said, 'Let my sontake the Tomahawk of the Pytiguara Nation. Tupanwills not that Batuirete' should carryitany more towar, since he has taken from him the strength of hisbody, the use of his arm, and the light of his eyes.But Tupan has been good to him, since he gave hima son like the warrior Jatoba.""Jatoba" took the Tomahawk of the PytiguaVas.Batuirete assumed the staff of his old age and setout. He crossed the vast uninhabited regions to theluxuriant prairies, where run the waters that comefrom the quarter of the night. As the old warriordragged his limbs along their banks, and the light ofhis eyes would not let him behold nor the fruits, norBatuirete, "celebrated snipe." The soubriquet of this great1Chief signifies that he was a " brave swimmer." It is also thename of a very fertile Serra, and the region which he occupied.2Snas estrellas erao muitas. The savages counted their yearsby the heliacal rising of the Pleiades, and also by keeping acashew-nut of each spring.

IRAÊMA. 67the trees, nor the birds of the air, he said in his sadness,Ah ' ' '!my bygone days !" The people who heard him wept over the ruinsof the Great Chief; and since then, whoever passesby that spot repeats his words, Ah ' metis !tempos'passados for which reason the river and the;prairieare called Quixeramobim. 1"Batuirete came from the 'Path, of the Herons' 2as far as that Serra which thou seest in the distance,and there he first lived. On the topmost peak the oldwarrior made his nest, as high as flies the hawk, topass the remnant of his days speaking with Tupan.His son already sleeps under the earth, whilst he,even during the last moon, was thinking at his cabindoor, to await the night which brings the Great Sleep.All the Pytiguara warriors, when the voice of warawakes them, visit and beg the old man that he willteach them to conquer; for no other warrior everknew to fight as he did. Thus the tribes call him nomore by his name, but know him as the Great Wise3Man of War Maranguab. " The chief Poty wants to visit the Serra to see hisfalls he will bemighty Grandsire but;before dayback in the cabin of his brother. Has he any otherwish ? ""The white warrior will accompany his brother.He wants to embrace the Great Chief of the Pytiguaras,Grandfather of Poty, and to tell the old man that helives again in his grandson."Martini called Irage'ma, and they both set out,1Quixeramobim, translated into Portuguese, means, " Ah !meus outros "tempos ; in English, " Ah !my other times."2Caminho dos garâs, or flight of the herons, in Tupy isAcarape, a village in the parish of Batuirete, nine leagues fromthe capital of Ceara.3Maranguab means " to war " and "wise man." Maranguape,five leagues' distant from the capital, is noted for its beauty andfertility.

68 IRACEMA.guided by the Pytiguara, to the Serra of Maranguab,which loomed above the horizon. They followed thecourse of the river to the place where it isjoined by1the stream of Pirapora.The cabin of the old warrior was close to one ofthose beautiful cascades where the fish leap in themidst of the bubbling foam. The waters here arefresh and sweet, like the sea-breeze in the hour ofheat, murmuring amongst the palm-leaves.Batuirete was sitting upon one of the cascade rocks ;the burning sun-rays fell full upon his head, whichwas bald and wrinkled as the Genipapo. 2 Thussleeps the Jabuni 3 at the edge of the tank." Poty has arrived at the cabin of the great Maranguab,father of Jatoba, and has brought his whitebrother to see the greatest Warrior of the Nations."The old man only opened his heavy eyelids, andpassed a long but feeble look from the grandson tothe stranger. Then his chest heaved and his lipsmurmured" Tupan wills that these eyes should see, beforebeing quenched, the White Hawk side by side with4the Narseja."The Abaete' dropped his head on his chest, andspoke no more, nor moved again.Poty and Martim, supposing that he slept, respectfullywithdrew, not to disturb the repose of one who1Pirapora, a river of Maranguape, noted for the freshness ofits waters and the excellence of its baths. They are in theenvirons of the Cachoeiras (rapids, cataracts, or waterfalls),and are called the "Baths of Pirapora." The word means"fish-leap."2Genipapo, a well-known Brazilian tree, whose fruit producesa dark dye with which the Indians used to tattoo themselves.3Jabuni) a large crane.4O gaviao branco, the white hawk, whilst' 'Narseja is the snipe.Batuirete thus calling the stranger, and speaking of his grandsonas a snipe by comparison, prophesied the destruction of his raceby the whites. It was the last word he spoke.

IRAgEMA. 69had done such deeds during his long life. Irac.e'ma,who had bathed in the nearest Cachoeira, came tomeet them, bringing combs of the purest honey in aleaf of the Taioba. 1The friends wandered about the flourishing environstill the shade of the mountain darkened the valley.They then returned to the spot where they had leftthe Maranguab.The old man was still there in the same attitude,with his head bent on his chest and his crossedknees supporting his forehead. The ants were runningup his body, and the Tuins 2 were flutteringaround him and settling upon his bald head.Poty placed his hand on the old man's head, andfelt that he was dead. He had died of old age.The Pytiguara Chief then intoned the Song ofDeath ; presently he went into the cabin to fetch theCamogim, which was rilled to overflowing with nutsof Caju. Martim counted five times five handfuls.Meanwhile, Iragema gathered in the forest theAndiroba, 3 with which to anoint the body of the oldman in the Camogim, where the dutiful hand of hisgrandson placed him. The Funeral Vase remainedsuspended to the cabin roof.They then planted the Ortiga, or large stingingnettle, before the doorway, to defend against animalsthe abandoned Oca. 4Poty bade a sorrowful farewellto these scenes, and returned with his companions tothe borders of the sea.1Taioba, a bush with large leaves, from ca t tree, and oba,dress, clothing.2Tuins in Brazil is a kind of little parrot.3 Andiroba^ a large tree, native of Brazil, which is of anaromatic nature, and gives a bitter oil.4Oca, house, cabin, wigwam.

70 IRAÊMA.CHAPTER XXIII.FOUR moons had lighted the heavens since Irage'mahad left the plains of Ipu, and three since she haddwelt in the Wigwam of her husband by the shore ofthe sea.Gladness dwelt within her soul. The daughter ofthe forest was happy as the swallow that abandons itspaternal nest and goes forth to build a new home inthe land where the flower-season begins. Iragemalikewise found there, on the sea-shore, a nest of lovethe heart's new country!'She wandered over the beautiful plains like the/humming-bird hovering amongst the flowers of the/ acacia. The light of early morning found her already[ clinging to the shoulder of her husband, ever smiling,like the Enrediga, 1 which twines round the treetrunk,and which covers it with a new garland everymorning.Martini went out to hunt with Poty. He thenseparated himself from her in order to have the pleasureof returning to her.In the middle of a green pasture hard by was abeautiful lake, to which the wild girlused to directher light step. It was the hour of the morning bath.She would cast herself into the water, and swim withthe white herons and the scarlet Jaganans. ThePytiguara warriors who chanced to come that waycalled this the " Lake of Beauty," because it wasbathed in by Iragema, the most beautiful of the raceof Tupan.And from that time till now, mothers come fromafar to dip their daughters in the waters of the Por-1Enredtfa, a creepertree-trunk.which entwines and entangles round a

I RAC EM A.yrangaba, 1 which they suppose have the virtue of makingthe virgins beautiful and beloved by the braves.After the bath Lêma wandered to the skirts ofthe Serra of Maranguab, where rises the river of theMarrecas. 2 There in the cool shade grew the mostsavoury fruits of the country; she would collect aplentiful supply, and rock herself in the branches ofthe Maracuja-tree, waiting for Martini to return fromhunting.Her fancy did not always, however, lead her to theJerarahii, 3 but often to the opposite side, close to theiake of the Sapiranga,4 whose waters are said to inflamethe eyes. Near it was a wood, thick and leafy, withclumps of Muritys, which formed in the middle of theplateau a large island of beautiful palms. Ira9emaloved the 5Murityapiia, where the wind blew softly.Here she stripped the pulp from the red Coco tomake refreshing drinks, mixed with the bee-honey,which the warriors liked to drink in the great heat ofthe day.One morning Poty guided Martini to the chase.They marched towards a Serra which towers on theopposite side to Maranguab,its twin sister. Thehighest peak bends like the hooked beak of themacaw, and hence the warriors named it Aratanha. 61Porangaba means itbeautyis a lake in a;delightful spot,distant one league from the City. Now it is called Arronches ;on its banks is a decayed village of the same name.2 Marrecas, wild ducks.3 Jerarahii, "river of the wild ducks." This place is evennow notable for its delicious fruits, especially the beautifuloranges known as the oranges of Jerarahii.4 Sapiranga, which means " red eyes," and they also call bythis name a certain ophthalmia in the North. It is a lake closeto Alagadi9o Novo, about two leagues from the Capital.5 Mtirityapua, where there is now a small town. The wordis from murity, palm, and apiiam, an island or clump.6 Aratanha, from arara, a macaw, and tanha, teeth. Afertile and cultivated Serra, which is a continuation of Maianguape.

72 IRACEMA.They mounted by the side of Guaiuba, 1 whence thewaters descend into the valley, and they went to thestream where the Pacas are to be found.The sun shone on the Macaw's Beak only when thehunters descended from Pacatuba 2 to the plateau.From afar they saw Iragema, who came to wait forthem on the margin of her lake, the Porangaba. Shecame towards them with the proud step of the heronstalking by the water's edge. Outside her Cariobashe wore a belt of Maniva, the flowers of which are anemblem of fruitfulness. A festoon of the same flowerstwined round her throat and fell over her marblebosom.She seized the hand of her husband and carried itto her lips." Thy blood lives in the bosom of Iragema. Shewill be the mother of thy son."" " Son saidst thou ? exclaimed the Christian withjoy-Kneeling down, he threw his arm around her andkissed her, mutely thanking God for this great happiness.When he arose Poty spoke"The happiness of the young brave is a wife anda friend; the first gives gladness, the second givesstrength. The warrior without a spouseis like a treelacking leaves and flowers ;never shall he behold itsfruit. The brave without a friend is like the solitarytree waving in the midst of the prairie with each blastof wind ; its fruit never ripens. The happiness of thestrong man is the offspring which is born to him, andwhich is his pride. Every warrior of his blood is onebranch more to raise up his name to the sky, like the1Guaiuba, which means " whence come the waters of thevalley," is a river rising in the Serra of Aratanha, and crossingthe village of the same name, six leagues from the capital.2 Pacatuba, "bed of the Pacas." There is now a new but im-of the Serra of Aratanha.portant village in a beautiful valley

IRACÊMA. 73top branch of the cedar. Beloved by Tupanis thewarrior who has a wife, a friend, and many sons. Hehas nothing more to desire save a glorious death."Martini pressed his bosom to that of Poty." The heart of both husband and friend speaks bythe mouth of Poty. The white warrior is blest, OChief of the Pytiguaras, Lords of the Sea-shores ;andhappiness was born to him in the Land of the Palm-it wastrees, where the Baiiuilha perfumes the air;begotten by the blood of thy race, who bear on theirfaces the colour of the sun's ray. The white warriorno longer desires any ether country save the land ofhis son and of his heart."At the break of dawn Poty set out to gather theseeds of the 1Crajuni, which yields a most beautifulred dye, and the bark of the Angico, whence is extracteda lustrous black. On the way his unerringarrow brought down a wild duck sailing in the air,and he took from itswings the longest feathers.Hethen ascended Mocoribe and sounded the Inubia.The sea-breeze carried far the hoarse sound. TheShell of the Fishermen of the Trahiry and the Hornof the Hunters of the Soipe gave answer.Martim bathed in the river waters, and walked onthe beach to dry himself in the wind and sun. By2his side ran Iracêma, collecting the yellow ambergriscast up by the sea. Every night the wife perfumedher body and the white hammock, that the love ofthe warrior might remain captivated.Poty returned.1Crajurti, a tree whose seeds give a scarlet dye.2Ambar. The sea-beach of Ceara was at thnt time full ofambergris, cast up by the sea. The savages call it Pirarepoti," the secretion of a fish."

74 IRACEMA.CHAPTER XXIV.IT was customary amongst the race of Tupan for thebrave to wear on his body the colours of his nation.They first traced upon the skin black lines like those1of the Goaty, whence came the name of the Warpaintingart. They also varied the colours, andmany warriors were covered with emblems of theirdeeds.The stranger having adopted the country of hisspouse and his friend, was expected to pass throughthis ceremony in order to become a redskin warriorand a son of Tupan. With this intention Poty hadprovided for himself the necessary objects.Iraêma prepared the dyes, the Chief dipping inthem the feathers, traced over the warrior's body thered and black lines, the Pytiguara colours. He thendrew on his forehead an arrow, and said"As the arrow pierces the hard trunk, so thewarrior's eye penetrates the soul of the people."On the arm a hawk." As the Anaje swoops from the clouds, so falls thewarrior's arm upon the enemy."On the left foot the root of a palm tree.As the little root supports in the ground the loftypalm tree, thus the firm foot of the warrior sustainshis frame."On the right foot a wing."As the wing of the Majoy 2 cleaves the air, thusthe fleet foot of the warrior has no equal in the1Coaty, a small fox-like animal, a racoon, whose hide has ared ground with black stripes. Coatyara, he who paints ; coatyd,to paint ; coatyabo, he who is painted. History mentions thefact that Martini Soares Moreno painted and dressed like thesavages of Ceara whilst he was living amongst them.3Majoy, swallow.

I RACE MA. 75Iragema then took the feather-vane, and painted aleaf with a bee upon it her voice murmured through:her smiles" As the bee makes honey in the black heart of theJacaranda, so sweetness is in the breast of the bravestwarrior."Martim opened his arms and lips to receive thebody and soul of " his wife.My brother is a great warrior of the Pytiguaranation. He wants a name in the language of hisnew country."" The name of thy brother shall be called by whateverpart of his body thou imposest thy hand upon."" Coatyabo!" exclaimed Iragema." Thou hast said it. I am the painted warrior,the warrior of the wife and of the friend."Poty gave to his brother the bow and the tomahawk,which were the noble arms of a brave. Iragema hadprepared for him the plumes and ornamented beltworn by illustrious Chiefs.The daughter of Araken fetched from the cabin themeats of the feast and the wines of the Genipapo andMandioca. The warriors drank copiously and dancedjoyous dances. Whilst they revolved round the bonfiresthey sang songs of gladness.Poty " chanted.As the Cobra-Snake which has two heads and onlyone body, so is the friendship of Coatyabo and Poty."Iragema " took up the refrain.As the oyster which leaves not the rock untilafter death, so isIragema joined to her husband."The " warriors chanted.As the Jatoba in the forest, so is the warriorCoatyabo between his brother and spouse ;his branchesentwine with those of the Ubiratan, and his shadeprotects the humble grass."The fires of joy burnt until morning came, andwith them lasted the Feast of the Warriors.

76 IRAÊMA.CHAPTER XXV.JOY still reigned in the cabin during the whole timewhilst the ears of corn ripened and waxed yellow.Once at break of day the Christian was strolling bythe borders of the sea. His soul was weary.The humming-bird satiates itself with honey andperfumeit then sleeps in its little white nest of;cotton, until another year comes round with its Moonof Flowers. Like it, the warrior's soul is sated withhappinessit wants;sleep and repose.Hunting and excursions in the mountains with hisfriend by his side, the tender caresses of the wifeawaiting his return, the pleasant Carbeto l in the Wigwamporch, no longer awakened in him emotions asthey were wont to do. His heart began to speak.Iraêma was sporting on the beach. His eyes wanderedfrom her over the sea's vast expanse.Large white wings were seen hovering over the bluewaste. The Christian knew that it was a big IgaVa ofmany sails, such as were constructed by his brethren,and the Saudade of his country wrung his breast.High rose the sun ;the warrior on the shorefollowed with his eyes the white wings as they fled.In vain the wife called him to the hut, in vain shedisplayed to his eyes her graces, or offered him thebest fruits of the country. The warrior never moveduntil the sail disappeared behind the horizon.Poty returned from the Serra, where for the firsttime he had been alone. He had left serenity onhis brother's countenance, and now he found theresorrow. Martini went forth to meet him."The great Igara of the white Tapiiia is on thesea. The eyes of Poty's brother saw them flying1Carbe'o, a sort of evening meeting of the Indians in a largecabin where they used to converse.

IRAÊMA. 77towards the banks of the Mearim. They are theallies of the Tupinambas l and the enemies of hisand my" race."Poty is lord of a thousand bows ; ifCoatyabowishes, he willaccompany him with his braves tothe banks of the Mearim to conquer the Tapiiitinga,and his friends the treacherous Tupinambas.""When it is time, Poty's brother will tell him."The warriors returned to the cabin where Iragemawas. The sweet song to-day was silent on the wife'slips. She wove amidst her sighs the fringe of thematernal hammock, broader and thicker than themarriage- cot. Poty, who saw her thus occupied, spoke."When the Sabia sings, it is the season of love.When, silent, it makes the nest for the little one : it isthe " time for work."My brother speaks like the Ran 2 announcing therain, but the Sabia which makes its nest does notknow if it will sleep in it."The voice of Iragema trembled. Her eye soughtMartim. He was thinking. The words of Iragemapassed over him like the breeze upon the smoothsurface of the rocks, noiseless and echoless.The sun still shone on the sea-beach, and the sandsreflected its ardent rays, but neither the light whichcame from heaven nor that which earth gave coulddrive darkness from the Christian's soul. Every momentthe twilight deepened on his forehead.Arrived from the banks of the Acarau a Pytiguarawarrior, sent by Jacauna to his brother Poty. He hadfollowed the warriors' trail as far as the Trahiry,whence the Fishermen had guided him to the Wigwam.1Tupinambas means fathers of the Tupys, a formidablenation, the primitive branch of the great Tupy race. After anheroic resistance, not being able to expel the Portuguese fromBahia, they migrated to Maranhao, where they formed alliancewith the French, who overran these regions.2Ran, frog.

78 IRAÊMA.Poty was alone in the porch. He rose up and benthis head, to listen with more gravity and respect tothe words which his brother had sent him by themouth of the messenger."The Tapuitinga who was in the Mearim camethrough the forests as far as the beginning of theIbyapaba, where he had made an alliance withIrapuam to fight the Pytigudra nation. They arecoming down the Serra to the banks of the riverwhere the herons drink, and where Poty raised theTaba of his warriors. Jacaiina now summons him todefend the lands of our fathers, and his people wanttheir greatest " warrior."The warrior must return to the banks of Acaraii,and his foot must not rest until it has trodden thefloor of Jacaiina's Wigwam. When he arrives, he willsay to the great chief, l jacaimds brother has arrivedat the Taba of his warriors' and he will not lie."The messenger departed.Poty aroused himself, and walked towards theplains, guided by the trail of Coatyabo. He met himfar beyond, wandering amongst the reeds and rusheswhich border the1banks of Jacaratuy. " The white Tapuia is in the Ibyapaba, to help theTabajaras against Jacaiina. Poty is hastening todefend the land of his brothers, and the Taba wheresleep the Camocins of his fathers. He will know howto conquer quickly, in order to return to Coatyabo."" Poty's brother goes with him. Nothing separatestwo warrior-friends when sounds the Inubia of war."" My brother is great like the sea, and good likethe sky."The two friends embraced, and marched with theirfaces turned to the quarter of the rising sun.1Jacaratuy, a lake near the present town of Ceara.

IRACEMA. 79CHAPTER XXVI.WALKING ever walking the braves arrived at theborders of a lake which was in the plateau-land.The Christian suddenly stopped and turned hisface towards the sea. The sadness left his heart androse to his forehead." My brother's foot has taken root in the Land ofLove," said the Chief." Let him remain. Poty willquickly return.""Poty's brother will accompany him. He has said; it,and his word is like the arrow of Poty's bow whenit whistles, it has already pierced the mark."" Does my brother then wish that Iragema should"accompany him to the banks of the Acarau ?"We go to fight her brothers. The Taba of thePytiguaras would only be to her a scene of pain andsadness. The daughter of the Tabajaras shouldremain."" What then does Coatyabo await "" ? Poty's brother is afflicted because the daughter ofthe Tabajaras may be sad, and abandon the Wigwamwithout awaiting his return. Before departing, hewould wish to soothe the spirit of the wife."Poty took thought." The tears of Woman soften the warrior's heart asthe morning dew softens the Earth.""My brother is wise. The husband must go withoutseeing Iragema."The Christian advanced. Poty bid him stop. Fromthe Aljava 1 which Iragema had adorned with blackand red feathers, and had placed on her husband'sshoulders, he selected an arrow.The Pytiguara drew the bow ;the fleet arrow pierced1Aljava, Arabic and Portuguese word for quiver.

8oa Goiamum l which was running on the banks of thelake, and stopped only where the feathers would notallow it to enter farther.The warrior thrust the arrow into the ground withthe prey transfixed and turned towards Coatyabo."My brother may now set out contentedly. Ira-$ema will follow his trail ; arriving here, she will seehis arrow and obey his will."Martini smiled ;and breaking a branch of the Maracujathe flower of remembrance he twined it roundthe arrow and advanced, followed by Poty.Soon the two warriors disappeared amongst thetrees; the heat of the sun had already dried theirfootsteps on the banks of the lake. Iragema becameuneasy, and followed her husband's trail as far asthe tableland. Gentle shades already mottled theprairies when she reached the brink of the lake. Hereyes detected the arrow of her husband thrust intothe ground, and the pierced Goiamum with the brokenbranch, and they filled with tears."He commands Iragema to go backwards like theGoiamum, and to keep his remembrance like theMaracuja, which retains its flower until death."The daughter of the Tabajiras slowly retraced hersteps backwards without turning her body, and nevertaking her eyes off the arrow of her warrior tillshe reached the cabin. Here she sat down on thethreshold, and bent her forehead on her knees,tillsleep soothed the pain in her breast. Hardly had theday broken, when she directed her hasty steps to thelake, and arrived at its bank. The arrow was stillthere, as it had been the evening before. Then he hadnot returned.From this time till the bath hour, instead of seekingthe lake of beauty, where hitherto she had bathedwith such pleasure, she came to that which had seen1Goiamutu, a large Brazilian crab which courses backwards.

IRAÊMA. 8 1her husband abandon her. She would sit down closeto the arrow until night came, and then seek thecabin.She would set out in early morning, as hurriedly asshe would return slowly in the evening. The samewarriors who had seen her so joyous in the watersPorangaba now met her sad and alone, like thewidowed heron on the river- banks. Hence theycalled the spot," of the Mocejana," * or " of the forsaken."One day when the beautiful daughter of Arakenwas lamenting on the brink of the Mocejana Lake, astrident voice from the top of a Carnaiiba cried outher name" "Iragema!Iragema !Raising her eyes, she saw amongst the palm-frondsher beautiful Jandaia flapping its wings and rufflingits feathers with the joy of seeing her.The remembrance of her country, extinguished bylove, burned again in her thoughts. She saw thebeautiful plains of the Ipu the sides of;the mountainrangewhere she was born, and the Wigwam of Araken ;and she felt Saudades ;but even at this moment shedid not repent of having abandoned them.Her voice gushed forth in song. The Jandaiaopened its wings, fluttered around, and settled on hershoulder. It stretched its neck and rubbed itselfagainst her throat ;it smoothed her hair with its blackbeak, and pecked her small red lips, as if it mistook2them for a Pitanga.Iragema remembered how ungrateful she had beento the Jandaia, forgettingit at the time of her happiness,and now it came to console her in her sorrow.This evening she did not return alone to the cabin,1Mocejana is a lake and village two leagues from the capitalof Ceara. The word means " what made " abandon," the placeof abandoning," and "occasion of abandoning."2 A small red fruit in Brazil, the Pitanga myrtle berry.

82 IRACEMA.and all next day her agile fingers wove a beautifulcage of straw, which she lined with the soft wool ofthe Monguba, 1 to receive her companion and friend.On the following dawn the voice of the Jandaiaawoke her. The beautiful bird left its mistress nomore, either because it could never weary of seeingher after so long an absence, or because instinct tolditthat she needed a companionin her sad solitude.CHAPTER XXVII.ONE evening Iragema saw from afar two warriorsadvancing on the sea-beach. Her heart beat morequickly.An instant afterwards, she forgot in the arms of herhusband the many of days yearning and desolationwhich she had passed in the solitary Wigwam.Again her graces and endearments filled the eyesof the Christian, and gladness once more dwelt in hissoul.Like the dry plain, which, when the thick fogcomes, grows green again and isspangled withflowers, so the beautiful daughter of the forest revivedat the return of her husband, and her beauty wasadorned with soft and tender smiles.Martini and his brother^had arrived at the Taba ofJacaiina as the Imibia was sounding. They led Poty'sthousand bowmen to the combat. Again the Tabajaras,in spite of the alliance with the white Tapuiasof the Mearim, were overcome by the brave Pytiguaras.Never had such an obstinate fight been fought,a tree with its fruit1Monguba, full of downy cotton, like thatof the Sumauma, only black, which gives its name to part ofthe Serra of Maranguape.

IRACEMA. 83nor had so disputed a victory been won on the plainswatered by the Acarati and the Camogim. Thevalour was equal on both sides, and neither nationwould have been victor, had not the God of Waralready decided to give these shores to the race ofthe white warrior allied to the Pytiguaras.Immediately after triumphing, the Christian returnedto the sea-beach where he had built his Wigwam.He felt anew in his soul the thirst of love,and he trembled to think that Iragema might havedeserted the place which had formerly been peopledby happiness.The Christian loved the Daughter of the Forestonce more, as at first, when itappeared that timecould not exhaust his heart. But a few short sunssufficed to wither these flowers of a heart exiled fromits country.The 1Imbii, son of the mountains, if it spring upin the plains where the wind or the birds have borneits seed, finding good and fresh ground, may perhapsone day dome itself with green foliage and bearflowers. But a single breath of the sea suffices towither it ;the leaves strew the ground, the blossomsthe breeze.are carried away byLike the Imbu on the plains was the heart of thewhite warrior in the savage land. Friendship andlove had accompanied him and sustained him for atime ; now, however, far from his home and his people,he felt himself in a desert. The friend and the wifedid not suffice any longer to his existence, full ofgreat and noble projects of ambition.He passed the suns, once so short, now so long,on the beach, listening to the moaning of the windand the sobbing of the waves. His eyes, lost in theimmensity of the horizon, sought, but in vain, to espy1Intbti, a fruit growing abundantly on the Serra of Araripe,not on the shore ; it is savoury, and resembles the Caja (see notei, page 12).

84 IRAÊMA.upon the transparent blue the whiteness of a sailwandering over the seas. At a short distance fromthe cabin, at the edge of the ocean, was a dune ofsand. The fishermen called it Jacare'canga, 1 onaccount of its resemblance to a crocodile's head.From the bosom of the white sands scorched by theardent sun flowed a pure fresh water thus; pain distilssweet tears of relief and consolation. To thishill the Christian would repair, and remain theremeditating upon his destiny. Sometimes the idea ofreturning to his own country and people would crosshis mind, but he knew that Iragema would accompanyhim, and this thought gnawed his heart. Each stepthat took Iragema farther from her native plains, nowthat she no longer could nestle in his heart, was torob her of a portion of her life.Poty knows that Martim desires to be alone, anddiscreetly withdraws. The warrior knows what afflictshis brother's soul, and hopes all things from time,which alone hardens the warrior's heart, like the coreof the Jacaranda.Iragema also avoids the eyes of her husband, becauseshe already perceives that those eyes, so muchloved, are troubled at her sight, and, instead of fillingwith delight at her beauty as formerly, now seem toturn wearily away. But her eyes never tire of followingapart, and at a distance, her Lord and Warrior,who had made them captive.Woe to her ! . . . The blow had struck home toher heart, and, like the Copaiba, 2 wounded in thecore, she shed tears in one continuous stream.1Jacarecanga^ a hill of white sand on the beach at Ceara,famed for a fountain of pure fresh water. The word means" crocodile's head."2Copaiba, a sort of sovereign balsam copayva.

IRACEMA. 85CHAPTER XXVIII.ONCE the sobs of Irac,ema reached the Christian'ssoul. His eyes sought her all around, and could notfind her.The daughter of Araken was sitting at some distanceupon the turfy grass in the midst of a greenclump of Ubaias ; weeping veiled her beautiful face,and the teardrops that rolled down her cheeks oneafter another fellupon her bosom where the offspringof love already breathed and grew. Thus fall theleaves of the flourishing tree before the ripening ofits fruit." What wrings the tears from the heart of Iragema? "1The Cajueiroweeps and is sad when it becomesa dry trunk. Irage'ma lost her happiness when herLord separated from her.""Am I not near thee ? "" The body of Coatydbo is here, but his soul fliesto the Land of his Fathers, and seeks the white virginwho awaits him."Martini was grieved. The large black eyes thatthe Indian fixed on him pierced him to the heart'score." The White Warrior is thy husband ;he belongsto t/iee."The beautiful Tabajara smiled in her sorrow."How longis it that he has withdrawn his spiritfrom Iragema? Once his feet guided him to thecool Serras and the glad tablelands his foot lovedto tread the land of happiness and to follow the stepsof his wife ;now he seeks alone the scorching sands,because the sea which murmurs there comes from theplains where he was born, and the hill of sand, becausefrom itstop he can descry the passing Igara."1The tree of the CajiL

86 IRAgEMA." It is his anxiety to fight the Tupinamba' whicnguides the warrior's steps to the borders of the sea,"said the Christian.Irage'ma continued" His lip has dried towards his wife, as the sugarcanewhen the great suns burn ;it then loses itssweet honey, and the withered leaves play nevermore in the wind. Now he only speaks to the seabeachbreeze, that itmay carry back his voice to theCabin of his Fathers.""The voice of the White Warrior isonly calling hisbrothers to defend the cabin of Irage'ma and theland of his son when the enemy shall come "!The wife shook her head." When Coatydbo walks in the plains, his eyes avoidthe fruit of the Genipapo, and seeks the white thorn ;its fruit is savoury, but it has the colpur of the Tabajaras.The thorn bears a white flower, like the cheeksof the pale virgin. If the birds sing, his ear no longercares to listen to the sweet song of the Graiina, but heopens his soul to the cry of the Japim, 1 because it hasgolden feathers like the hair of her whom he loves."" Sorrow dims the sight of Ira9ema and embittersher lip.But gladness will soon return to the wife'ssoul, as the green leaves bud again on " the tree."When the White Warrior's son has left the bosomof IraQema she will die, like the Abaty 2 after it hasyielded its fruit. Then he will have nothing to detainhim in a foreign land.""Thy voice burns, daughter of Araken, like thewinds which blow in the great heat from the desertsof Ico. 3 Wouldst thou abandon thy husband ? "" Does the white warrior see that beautiful Jacarandawhich rises to the clouds ? At its feet still lies the1J a pimi a golden bird with black specks, whose name signifies"to suffer."2Abaty means rice.3 Jco, a south-eastern portion of the province of Ceara.

IRACEMA. 87dry root of the leafy myrtle, which every winter bearsfoliage and red berries to embrace and cover its brothertree. If it did not die, the Jacaranda would not havesun enough to reach that height. Irage'ma is the Folhaescura 1 which creates darkness in Coatyabo's soul.She must that fall, gladness may shine within hisbreast."The Christian threw his arms round the waist of thebeautiful Indian and strained her to his heart. Hiswas harsh and bitter.lips sought hers in a kiss, but itCHAPTER XXIX.POTY returned from the bath. He follows the trailof Coatyabo in the sand, and ascends the height ofJacarecanga. Here he finds the warrior on the summit,standing upright, with his eyes straining, and hisarms stretched towards the broad seas.The Pytiguara follows his gaze, and discovers alarge Igdra ploughing the green waters and driven onby the wind." It is the great Igara of my brother's Nation sent toseek him."The Christian sighed." They are the White Warriors, enemies of his race,who seek, for a war of vengeance, the shores of thebrave Pytigudra nation. They were routed with theTabajaras on the banks of the Camogim. Now theycome with their friends the Tupinambas by th wayof " the sea."My brother is a Great Chief. What thinks he thathis brother "Poty should do ?1Folha escura, the myrtle which the Indians call Capixuna ordark-leaved. Iracema used it as a symbolproduced in her husband.of the ennui S!IQ

88 IRAÊMA." Summon the Hunters of the Soipeand the Fishersthe Trahiry. We will hasten to encounter them."Poty awoke the voice of the Inubia, and the twowarriors set out for Mocoribe.Soon they saw hastening from all parts the bravesof Jaguarassu and Camoropim to respond to theWar-cry. The brother of Jacauna warned them of theenemy's approach.The great Maracatim 1 flew upon the waters alongthe coast, which extends as far as the margins of theParnahyba. 2The moon began to increase ;when the ship leftwinds drove itthe waters of the Mearim, contraryinto the high seas, far beyond its destination.The Pytiguara warriors, in order not to startle theenemy, hide themselves amongst the Cajueiros, andfollow the great Igara along the shore. During theday the white sails are conspicuous, and by night theship's lights pierced the sea's darkness like fireflieslost in the forest.Many suns they marched thus. They pass beyondthe Camo9im, and at last they tread the beautiful3shores of the Bay of Parrots.Poty sends a warrior to the great Jacauna and preparesfor the combat. Martim, who had mountedthe hill of sand, knew that the Maracatim would seekshelter under the lee of the land, and warns hisbrother.The sun was already rising. The Guaraciaba 4warriors and their friends the Tupinamba's run along1Maracatim is a large ship which rises at the prow. Littleboats or canoes were called Igara, meaning "lady of the water."2Parnahyba) a large river of Piauhy, on the north coast ofBrazil.3Bahia dos papagaios. It is the Bay of Jericoacoarn, andmeans "Bay of the plain of the parrots," and is one of the bestparts of Ceara.4 Guaraciaba means " yellow-haired." These were the Frenchsettlers at Maranhao.

IRAÊMA. 3 d /the waves in light Pirogos l to make the shore. Theyform a great arch, like a shoal of fish crossing thecurrent of a river.In the middle are the 2 fire-warriors, who carry thelightning on each ;wing the warriors of Mearim, whobrandish the tomahawk. But no nation ever drewthe bow so unerringly as the great Pytigua'ras, andPoty was the greatest Chief of all the Chiefs who carriedthe Inubia of war. At his side marches his brother,as great a Chief as himself, and learned in the stratagemsof the white race, with hair like the sun.During the night the Pytiguaras had by his directionsfixed into the beach a strong Caic.ara, or stockadeof thorns, and had raised againstit a wall of sand,where the " lightning" might cool and extinguishitself. Here they await the foe. Martini ordersother warriors to man the tops of the highest palms,and there, screened by the broad fronds, to makeready for the moment of attack.The arrow of Poty was the first which left the beach,and the Guaracidba chief was the first hero that bitthe dust upon the strange soil.The thunders roar from the right of the whitewarriors, but the bolts only burrow themselves in thesand or dive into the sea.The Pytiguara arrows now fall from the heavens,then they flyfrom the earth and bury themselves inthe enemies' hearts. Each warrior falls riddled withmany arrows, like the prey for which the3Piranhasfight in the waters of the lake.The enemy once more embark in the canoes, andreturn to the Maracatim to fetch bigger and heavierthunders, which neither one man nor two could manage.1 Pirogos, canoes.2Guerreiros do fogo the French, from their guns.Piranha^ a fresh-water fish, a ferocious kind of salmon.It lives in lakes and dead waters, and has teeth which bite likescissors.

90 IRAgEMA.When they were returning, the Chief of the Fishers,who swims in the sea- waters like the agile Camoropim,from whom he took his name, casts himself into thewaves and dives. Before the foam had passed awayfrom the place where he disappeared, the enemy'scanoe had sunk as if it had been swallowed by a whale.The night came and brought with itrepose.At dawn of day, the Maracatim was flying in thehorizon towards the banks of the Mearim. Jacaiinaarrived, not in time for the fight, but for the feast ofvictory.At the same hour that the songs of the Pytiguarawarriors were celebrating the conquest of the Guaraciabas,the first son bom to this Land of Liberty begottenby the blood of the white race, saw the light inthe plains of Porangaba.CHAPTER XXX.thought that her bosom would burst. Shesought the banks of the river where grows the Coqueiropalm,and clasped the trunk of the tree till a tiny cryinundated her whole being with joy.The young mother, proud of so much happiness,took the tender one in her arms, and with him castherself into the limpid waters of the river. Then shegave him the delicate breast, and her eyes devouredhim with sorrow and " love.Thou art Moacyr, 1 the fruit of my anguish."The Jandaia perched at the top of the palm treerepeated " Moacyr " and from that time the;friendlybird united in its song the names of both mother andson.1Mcacyr or " son of suffering," from vioacy, pain, and iraâ desinence meaning " that comes from."

IRAÊMA. 91The innocent slept " ; Iragema sighed.The Jaty makes honey in the sweet-smelling1trunk of the Sassafrax ; during the month of flowersit flies from branch to branch collecting the juice tofill the comb, but it does not taste its sweetness'sreward, because the Irara 2 devours in one night thewhole swarm. Thy mother, also, child of my sorrow,will never taste the joy of seeing the smile on thylips."The young mother fastened over her shoulders abroad swathe 3 of soft cotton, which she had made tocarry her child always fastened upon her hip. Shethen followed over the sands the trail of her spouse,who had been gone three suns. She walked gently,not to awake the little one, that slept like a birdunder the maternal wing.When she arrived at the great hill of sand, shesaw that the trail of Martim and Poty continuedalong the beach, and guessed that they were gone tothe war. Her heart sighed, but her eyes sought theface of her babe.She turned her face back towards the Mocoribe." Thou art the Hill of Gladness, but for Iragemathou bringest nothing but sorrow."Returning, the mother placed the still - sleepingchild in his father's hammock, widowed and solitary,in the cabin centre. She lay down upon the matwhere she had slept since the time her husband'sarms had ceased opening to receive her.The morning light entered the cabin. Iragemasaw the shade of a warrior come in with it.Cauby was standing in the doorway.1Sassafrax, a well-known tree, growing both in North andSouth America, much used in medicine."Irdra, a kind of bush-dog, which attacks beehives anddevours the honey.3Faxa, vulgarly called Typoia ; swathing or swaddlingclothes.

92 IRACEMA.The wife of Martim sprang up with one bound toprotect her child. Her brother raised his sad eyesfrom the hammock to her face, and spoke with a stillsadder voice."It was not vengeance which drew the warriorCauby to the plains of the Tabajaras he has;alreadyIt was a longing to see Irage'ma, who tookforgiven.away with her " all his gladness."Then welcome be the warrior Cauby to the cabinof " his brother," said the wife, embracing him.The fruit of thy bosom sleeps in this hammock,and the eyes of Cauby long to behold it."Irage'ma opened the fringe of feathers and showedthe babe's fair face. Cauby contemplatedit for sometime, and then laughing " saidHe has sucked the soul of my sister," 1 and hekissed in the mother's eyes the image of the child,fearing lest his touch might hurt it.The trembling " voice of the girl cried"Does Araken still live upon the earth ?" Hardly ;since my sister left him his head bentupon his bosom, and it rose up no more."" Tell him that Iragema is already dead, that hemay be consoled."Cauby's sister prepared food for the warrior, andslung in the porch the hammock of hospitality, thathe might repose after the fatigues of the journey.When the traveller was refreshed, he arose with thesewords" Say, where isIragema's husband and Cauby'sbrother, that the braves may exchange the embraceof friendship?"The sighing lips of the unhappy wife moved likethe petals of the cactus-flower stirred by a breeze,1Ckupou tua alma. A child in Tupy is called ntanga, frompiter, to suck, and anga, soul suck-soul. Cauby meant thatit resembled the mother, and had absorbed a portion of herspirit.

IRAÊMA. 93and remained speechless. But tears rolled from hereyes in big drops.Cauby's face clouded." Iragema's brother thought that sadness remainedin the plains she had abandoned, because she took"with her all the smiles of those who loved her !Iragema dried her eyes." The husband of Irage'ma has left with the warriorPoty for the shores of the Acaraii. Before threesuns shall have illuminated the earth he will return,and with him gladness " to the soul of the wife."The warrior Cauby awaits him, to know what hehas done with the smile which lived on Iragema'slips."The voice of the Tabajara grew hoarse, and hisrestless step walked at random up and down thecabin.CHAPTER XXXI.SOFTLY sang Iragema, rocking the hammock to sootheher son.The beach sands cracked beneath the strong firmfoot of the Tabajara brave, who came from the seaborderwith an abundance of fish.The young mother crossed the fringes of the hammockthat the fliesmight not tease her sleeping babe,and went forth to meet her brother." Cauby will return to the mountains of the Taba-"jdras she said ! gently.The warrior's brow clouded over." Iragema sends away her brother from her Wigwamthat he may not see the sorrow which fills it.""Araken had many sons in his youth. Some werecarried off by war, and they died like braves ;others

94 IRAgEMA.chose wives, and begot in their turn numerous offspring.Araken had but two children of his old age.Iragemais for him like the dove which the hunterhas stolen from its nest. Alone remains with the oldPage the warrior Cauby, to sustain his bent frame andto guide his tremulous steps."" Cauby will depart when the shade shall leave theface of Iragema. As lives the night-star, so lives Iragemain her sorrow. Only the eyes of her husbandcan banish the darkness from her brow. Go, inorder that his sight may not wax dim at the sight of"Cauby" ! Irage*ma's brother will depart to please her, buthe will return every time the Cajueiro flowers to feelin his heart the child of her bosom."took the childHe entered the cabin. Iragemafrom the hammock, and both mother and son remainedpressed to the heart of Cauby. He thenpassed through the door, and soon disappeared amidthe trees.Iragema, dragging along her trembling steps, accompaniedhim for some distance, till he was lost tosight on the skirts of the forest. Then she stopped ;when the cry of the Jandaia, accompanied by theinfant's wail, recalled her to the cabin ; only the coldsand upon which she had sat, kept the secret of thetears which it had drank.The young mother gave her child the breast, butthe babe's moan was not hushed. The scanty milkrefused to flow.The blood of the unhappy girl had been thinnedby the ever-flowing tears of which her eyes had notwearied, and none came to her bosom, where the firstnourishment of life is formed.She dissolved the white Cariman 1 and prepared1Cariman, strained mandioca a porridge of mandioca ;fromcaric, to run, and mani, manioc.

IRAÊMA. 95over the fire the Mingao l to nourish her son. Whenthe sun gilded the mountain-crests she set out towardsthe forest, carrying on her bosom the sleepingchild.In the thickness of the wood was found the lair ofthe absent Irara ;the pups, still small, were whiningand rolling over one another. The beautiful Tabajaracrept softly up to it. She made for her child a cradleof a soft bough of the Maracuja, and sat down near it.She took one by one into her lap all the pups ofthe Irara, and abandoned to their famished mouthsher bosom, beautiful as the red Pitanga, which shehad anointed with the honey of the bee. The hungryyoung ones fastened upon it,and greedily drained herbreasts.Iragema felt pain hitherto unknown to her; theyseemed to exhaust her life. At last, however, herbosom began to swell, and the milk, stilltinged withthe life-fluid of which it is formed, gushed forth.The happy mother cast away the little Ira~ras, and,full of joy, appeased the hunger of the babe. He isnow doubly Moacyr, the son of pain, once born ofIrac.ema, and secondly nourished by her.The daughter of Araken at last began to feel thather veins were drying up, and withal her life, embitteredby sorrow, rejected the nourishment whichmight have restored her strength. Tears and sighshad alike banished the smile and the appetite fromher beautiful mouth.1Mingao, a sort of porridge of which the Brazilians are veryfond ; it is made of mandioca-flour, sugar, eggs, cinnamon, &c.,&c.

96 IRACEMA.CHAPTER XXXII.THE sun declines. Japy springs out of the forestand runs towards the Wigwam-door.Iragema, sitting with her child upon her bosom,basks in the sun's ray, for she feels the cold shiveringthrough her frame. On seeing the faithful messengerof her husband, hope revived in her heart. She wouldhave arisen to meet her Lord and Warrior, but herweak limbs refused to obey her will.She fell helpless against a Wigwam-prop.Japy licked the inanimate hand, and jumped playfully,to make the child laugh, with little barks of joy.At times it rushed to the forest skirts and barked tocall its master, and then it ran back to the cabin tofondle the mother and the child.At this time Martini was treading the yellow prairiesof Tauapd; 1 his inseparable brother, Poty, marchedby his side.Eight moons 2 had sped since he had left the beachof Jacare'canga. After conquering the Guaraciabas inthe Bay of the Parrots, the Christian warrior left forthe banks of the Mearim, where lived the savage alliesof the Tupinambas.Poty and his warriors accompanied him. Afterthey had crossed the flowing arm of the sea whichcomes from the Serra of Tauatinga 3 and bathes theplains where men fish for Piau, 4 they finally saw the1Tauape means "place of yellow clay." It is on the road toMaranguape.13Moons are months, as suns are days.3 Taualinga, a Serra in the province of Piauhy where rises theParahyba river.4 Piau, a fish which gives its name to the river and provinceof Piauhy.

IRAgEMA. 97beaches of the Mearim, and the Velha Taba 1 of thebarbarous Tapuia.The race of the Sunny-hair gained more and morethe friendship of the Tupinambas, the number ofthe white warriors increased, and they had alreadyraised in the island the great Itaoca 2 to send forth theirlightning.When Martini had seen what was wanted, he retracedhis way to the prairies of the Porangaba, whichhe now treads. Already he hears the hoarse gratingof the tide on the beach of the Mocoribe ; already thebreath of the ocean wave fans his cheek.The nearer his step approaches the Wigwam, theslower and more heavyit becomes. He dreads toarrive ;he feels that his soul is about to suffer, whenthe sad heart-weary eyes of his wife shall pierce it.Long ago had speech deserted his parched lip ;the friend respects this silence, which he well understands.It is the stillness of the waters running overthe dark deep places.As soon as the two warriors reached the river-banks,they heard the barking of the dog calling them andthe cry of the Jandaia in lamentation.They were now very near the Wigwam, which washid only by a slip of forest. The Christian stopped,pressing his hand to his bosom to still his heart, which3beat like the Poraqui. " The bark of Japy is of gladness," quoth the chief." Because he has arrived ;but the voice of theJandaiais of sadness. Will the absent warrior findpeace in the bosom of the deserted wife, or will Saudadeshave killed the fruit of her love ? "The Christian moved forward his dilatory step.1Velha Taba is the Portuguese of Tapui-tapera, and was thename of one of the Tupinamba settlements in Maranhao.2 Itaoca, house of stone fortress.3 Poraqui, electric fish which jumps ;of flat, broad, and uglyshape.G

98 IRAÊMA.Suddenly, between the branches of the trees, his eyesbeheld sitting at the Wigwam-door Iragema with herboy in her lap, and the dog playing about them. Hisheart carried him there with a bound, and his wholesoul rushed to his lips"Irag.ema!"The broken-hearted wife and mother could onlyopen her eyes on hearing the beloved voice. Onlywith a great effort she can raise the babe in her armsand presentit to the father, who gazes at it withecstatic love." Receive the son of thy blood. Thou hast arrivedin time ; already my breasts have no nourishment forhim."Placing the child in the paternal arms, the unhappymother fainted away, like the Jetyca l with itsuprootedbulb. The husband then saw how pain and sorrowhad withered her form ;but beautystill dwelt there,like 2perfume in the fallen flower of the Manaca.Iragema rose no more from the hammock wherethe afflicted arms of Martim had placed her. Thehusband, whose love was born anew with paternaljoy, surrounded her with caresses, which filled hersoul with its former happiness. But they could notbring her back to life. The stamen of her flower wasbroken for ever." Let the body of thy wife sleep at the foot of thepalm-tree which thou lovedst. When the breeze ofthe sea shall sigh amongst its leaves, Ira9ema willthink it is thy voice whispering through her hair."Her lip became silent for ever ;the last spark fadedaway from the darkening eyes.Poty supported his brother in his great sorrow.Martim felt how precious in misfortune is a truea tree which) gives gum.2Manned, a flower well known in Para. They also call bythis name the most beautiful girl in a tribe, or anything ofpleasure connected with a feast.

IRAgEMA. 99friend; he is like the hill which shelters from thehurricane 1 the trunk of the strong hardy Ubiratan,pierced by the Copim. 2The Camogim received the corpse of Iragema,which, steeped in aromatic spices and sweet herbs,was buried at the foot of the palm tree on the riverbanks.Martim broke a branch of myrtle, the leaf ofsadness, and laid it on the last resting-place of hiswife.The Jandaia, perched at the top of the palm tree,sadly repeated -" "Iragema!From that time the Pytiguara warriors who passedby the deserted Wigwam, and who heard the plaintivevoice of the devoted bird incessantly calling for itsmistress, withdrew with their souls full of sadness fromthe palm-tree where sang the Janddia.And thus ithappened that one day, the river wherethe palm-tree grew, and the prairies through whichthe river winds, came to be called Cearl 3CHAPTER XXXIII.THE Cajueiro flowered four times since Martim hadleft the shores of Ceara, bearing with him in the fragilebark his little son and the faithful dog. The Jandaiawould not leave the land where rested its friend andmistress.1In the original Vendaval, which is the wind that bringsships home from the West Indies. It is not constant, as thetrade-wind, yet it generally ranges between the south and northwest.2Copini) a white ant, composed of c0, a hole, and pirn, a sting.3 Ceard iscomposed oicewo, to sing loud, and ard, a parroqueet.The above is the legend which gave the province its name.

iooIRACEMA.The first Cearense, still in his cradle, thus becamean ^migrant from his Fatherland. Did this announcethe destinies of the race to be ?Poty with his warriors awaited on the river-banks.The Christian had promised to return ; every morninghe climbed the sand-hill and strained his eyes, hopingfor a friendly sail to whiten the sea-horizon.Martim at last returned to the land which had onceseen his happiness, and which now sees his bitterregret. When his foot pressed the hot white sand,there spread through his frame a fire which burnedhis heart : it was the fire of consuming memory.The flame was extinguished only when he tood onthe place where his wife slept, because at that momenthis heart overflowed like the trunk of the Jetahy l inthe great heats, and refreshed his grief with a showerof tears.Many warriors of his race accompanied the whiteChief to found with him the Christian Mayri. Therecame also a Priest of his Faith, black-robed, to plantthe Cross upon this savage soil.Poty was the first who knelt at the foot of theSacred Wood. He would not allow anything again topart himself and his white brother for this;reason, asthey had but one heart, he wished that both mighthave the same God.He received in 2baptism the name of the Saintwhose dayit was, and of the King he was about toserve ;besides these two, his own translated into thetongue of his new brethren.His fame increased, and it is still the pride of theland in which he first saw the light,The Mayri which Martim founded on the riverbankswithin the shores of Ceara flourished. Theword of the true God budded in the savage land, and1Jetahy, a kind of Hymensea from which a yellow gumexudes.Antonio Phelipe Camarao.

IRAÊMA. 101the holy Church-bells re-echoed through the valleyswhere once bellowed the Maraca.Jacaiina came to inhabit the plains of the Porangaba,to be near his white friend. Camerao (Poty) placedthe Taba of his warriors on the banks of the Moceja"na.1Later, when Albuquerque, the Great Chief of theWhite Warriors, arrived, Martini and Camarao madefor the banks of the Mearim, to chastise the ferociousTupinamba and to expel the white Tapuia.The husband of Irac.ema never could behold withoutthe deepest emotion the shores where he hadbeen so happy, and the green leaves under whoseshade slept the beautiful Tabajara girl.Often he would go and sit upon these soft sands, tomeditate, and to soothe the bitter Saudade in his heart.The Janddiasstillsang upon the crests of the palmtree,but no more remembered the sweet name ofIragema.On this Earth all things pass away!1Jeronimo de Albuquerque, Chief of the Expedition to Maranhaoin 1612.FINIS.

MANUEL DE MORAESChronicle of tjje &efanUentfj CmturgBYJ.M. PEREIRA DA SILVATRANSLATED BYRICHARD F.AND ISABEL BURTONLONDONBICKERS SON, i LEICESTER SQUAREiS86

TWO WORDS TO THE READER.AUTHOR'S PREFACE,THE "Biographia Ltizitana" of the Abbade DiogoBarbosa supplies the following short notice of thelife of Manuel de Moraes :He was born in Sao Paulo (Brazil) at the end ofthe sixteenth or at the beginningof the seventeenthcentury; he wrote a History of America, which isnow wholly lost, and a Memoir advocating the acclamationof Dom Joao IV., published (1641) at Leydenwith the title of " Prognostico y Respuesta h unapergunta de un Caballero muy ilustre sobre lascosas de Portugal" (" Forecast and Reply to theQuestion of an Illustrious Personage upon the Affairsof Portugal ").He was condemned by the Tribunal ofthe Holy Office, and he was "relaxed " in effigy at theAct of Faith of April 6, 1643, ms crimes being apostasyfrom the Catholic creed and intermarriage witha schismatic. Finally, he died at Lisbon, a naturaldeath, according to some, whilst others, not less informed,declare that he lost his lifeby violence. InnocencioFrancisco da Silva adds to this, in his

IVAUTHOR'S PREFACE." Diccionario Biographico e Bibliographico Portugueze Brazileiro," that Manuel de Moraes belonged to theCompany of Jesus at Sao Paulo, and that he wasgarotted at the Act of Faith, December 15, 1647.Other writers, who have sought to preserve his name,especially myself, in the supplement to my "VaroesIllustres do Brazil durante os tempos coloniaes" ("TheWorthies of Brazil in her Colonial Days "),have donenothing but repeat the notices given by the AbbadeDiogo Barbosa. The fact is, that, despite all our research,we have been unable to 1procure other details.Thus, though the existence of Manuel de Moraescannot be contested, it is evidently impossible towrite a regular biographical study of his career.Wewant precise information to set off and to describe1The "Historia Geral do Brazil," by M. F. A. de Varnhagen(Laemmert, Rio de Janeiro, 1854), prints (vol. i. p. 410) adocument addressed to the Crown by the citizens of Sao Paulo,strongly complaining of the Jesuits interfering with the slaves.We read: "In all the villages about Pernambuco there was notan Indian or a Gentile who did not go over to the (Dutch)enemy and with them;was their spiritual guide, the PadreManuel de Moraes, who induced and persuaded them to committhis outrage, making himself the greatest heretic and apostatethat the Church of God has known in those days." Vol. ii. p.42 informs us that " Padre Manuel de Moraes, who from aJesuit became a Calvinist, and intermarried with women of thatsect, was therefore burnt in effigy at the Auto da Fe of Lisbonon April 6, 1642. He afterwards repented, and gave himselfup to the (Portuguese) restorers of Pernambuco ; the latter recommendedhim to Lisbon, where he was condemned perpetuallyto wear the heretical dress with the usual flames, and was forever suspended from holy orders by the Act of Faith of December15, 1649." The latter also found guilty of "Judaism" fiveother inhabitants of Pernambuco. 7^rans!ators Note.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.the physiognomy, the life, and the deeds of a manwho appears to have been of some eminence in hisday.Desirous, however, of presenting him to the readingworld, and of rilling up the outlines of a characterwhose individuality was so original and characteristic,I have resolved to treat the Paulista author in thesame way as I proceeded with the Portuguese poetJeronymo Cortereal ;in the latter case, however,older authors had left for me a biography far lessdefective.The Chronicle of Cortereal will thus be supplementedby that of Manuel de Moraes. The formeroffered a picture of the Portuguese people and societyduring the last days of Dom Sebastiao, until Spainimposed upon us her yoke. The latter will containdescriptions of the stirring events which distinguishedthe seventeenth century in Sao Paulo, and in theJesuit Missions of La Guayra; in Pernambuco, andin the wars with the Hollanders ;in the Low Countries,and in the emigration of the Portuguese Jews ;inPortugal, and in the blood-stained tyranny of theInquisition. Upon the same page the realities ofhistory and the vagaries of fancy must meet andgreet one another. But is not this the most popularbranch of our modern literature, the formula in highestesteem with the public of the nineteenth century ?J.M. PEREIRA DA SILVA.v

A WORD BY THE TRANSLATOR.TURNING over some old and almost forgotten manuscripts,I lately lit uponthe translation here offeredto the public. Four happy years spent in theHighlands of the Brazil have left the most pleasantmemories ;and these pages, describing familiar scenes,speak of days which we would fain recall. May someportion of the charm which the little volume has forus find itsway to the reader's heart !The version is not literal indeed far from it. Thegenius of the Portuguese language is far too flowery,too tautological, and too fond of metaphor for ourrough Northern speech and our directness of thoughtand expression. What should we feel if told, forinstance, of a man" past forty fading away like a rose"uponits stem ?Yet I have avoided taking liberties with ourauthor, especially in matters to which he himselfwould object. My excuses are due to him for havingtranslated his tale without permission being dulyasked and given ;the fact is, our attempts to meethim at Rio de Janeiro were in vain. Moreover, hehas himself courted this :injury tous Us droits sontreserves, would have saved him from the liberty thustaken by a stranger.

viiiA WORD BY THE TRANSLATOR.Translations, the publishers assure us, are notpopular in England. So much the worse. Surely agood tale imported from a foreign source is worth adozen of the flimsy "sensation novels," run off forthe use of the moment, ephemera which have onlythe dubious merits of exciting a morbid interest, andof being read in three volumes within three hours.TRIESTE, November 30, 1884.

MANUEL DE MORAES,CHAPTER I.OLD SlO PAULO.THE Brazilian traveller of our modern day who runsup by the Santos and Jundiahy Railway to Sao Paulo,the capital of a great province also so named, findsbut little that can suggest what was that very heroiccity in the earlier years of the seventeenth century.There is the same enchanting atmosphere, at timesportentously lustrous and transparent the same;gratefulmixture of tropical and temperate vegetation, thebanana rustling in the cool shadow of the pine andthe palm the same;glorious day under the Tropic ofCapricorn, whose line passes within a mile or twoof the suburbs, and the same bright healthful night ofCentral Europe colouring the cheeks and strengtheningthe frames of the inhabitants.But the streets are now laid down with macadam ;the old stockades and walls, which defended the youngsettlement, have made way for house and homestead ;the rivers and rivulets have been bridged ;the tenements,formerly restricted to a door and a singlewindow outside, and inside to a " but and a ben,"have become double storeys, with painted facades,

2 MANUEL DE MORAES.and metal balconies, and glass pineapples ;the babyvillage has grown up to cityhood, and the city isextending itself towards its northern and easternfaubourgs, the " Luz" and the " Braz."The people have changed even more. The longhose, the trunk-breeches, the slashed doublets, andthe flapped felt hats of two hundred years ago arenow gone clean gone. The men affect Bismarckhats and pantalons collants ; whilst the fair sex appearsin the shape-improvers, the chignons, and thepink and white pigments proper to this our section ofihe seventeenth century.The celebrated Martini Affonso de Souza, afterwardsthe hero of Portuguese India, first visited thischarming site in 1532. Guided by the friendly RedMan, he scaled the formidable granite heights knownas the " Serra do Mar," the Eastern Ghats of MiddleBrazil, and following the course of the streams whichturned inland towards the far west, he reached the nowfamous plains of Piratininga, and the wigwams inhabitedby his ally, the Cacique Tyberiga".Presently Martini Affonso, created Donatory of agrant which, with a hundred leagues of maritimeirontage, extended to an unknown depth in the interior,built the fortified village of Sao Vicente at themouth of a stream, or rather a lagoon channel, whichenters the Bay of Santos. It was peopled by nativesand laborious settlers, many of them scions of illustriousfamilies ;and all were entitled to boast thatthey had founded the first Portuguese colony in theBrazilSao Vicente, however, soon gave precedence toSantos, which, originally a Misericordia, a hospitalorganised like that of Lisbon, became a port on thenorthern or sheltered side of the island, separatedfrom terra firma by a river-like sea-arm. Thus itwas less exposed to the fury of the Atlantic, whichhad swept away old Sao Vicente, and to the attacks

OLD SAO PAULO. 3of pirates, English, Spanish, and Netherlander, whoperiodically plundered and harried the coast.Their base-line laid down, the Portuguese settlersproceeded to occupy the interior. With a thousanddifficulties, they scaled the terrible heights of Paranapiassaba"the chain which looks towards the ocean"loftiest of the maritime range that half encircles theSantos basin with itsrocky arms and regular crest.They swarmed up cliffs, they let themselves down fromcrags that invaded the upper strata of ether, and theycompared the country with the "region of the moon."Those slopes, whose trees seem from afar to rise inthe gentlest steps and on the most regular gradients,proved heart-breaking steeps of rock and tree, of rootsand of soft humus, the decay of vegetation, into whichmen sank to the knee. They swam the river-courses,and they bridged the torrents and rapids with trunksfelled upon the banks. Night and day they spent inan atmosphere now torrid and humid, then raw andfrigid; sleeping upon the ground or in hammocksslung to the branches. What fancy could have traced,in those times, the line of rail which now bears thetraveller over all these terrors and hardships, occupyingthree hours to perform what to former generations costat least as many days ?The metamorphosis has, on the other hand, causedthe traveller to lose much of the poetry of the primevalforest and of the eternal sea. We no longer, from theAlto da Serra of the mule-road, view, as with a bird'seye, the superb panorama of the lowlands the thin;white surf-line breaking in far perspective on the yellowsands ;the manifold surface-drains and sea-arms,winding like ribbons of silver amongst the netherlands,and the islands forested with the sombre green mangrovethe infinite varieties of town and ;village, of fieldand plantation ;the slopes with gigantic timber fallingbelow our feet, and on one side the roaring, dashingcataract of the "Rio dos Pedros," a snowy sheet

4 MANUEL DE MORAKS.torn to rags and strips by the black fangs of itsro,cky bed.The Povoagao, or village of Sao Paulo, showed byits position the master-hand of the Jesuits, who, afteryears of stormy discussion, had succeeded in transferringto it the rights and privileges of the ruinedtownship Santo Andre and thus the; religious hadthriven by the death and decay of the laical settlement.The site of the successful rival was a ridge ofred clay, about a mile in length by half that breadth,bounded on the north by the wide and often floodedvalley of the Tie'te, or " Good-water river," an' affluentof the mighty Parana-Plata. On the east, under aprecipitous slope, flows the Tamanduatahy "thestream of the ant-eater" a narrow but deep anddangerous feeder of the main artery ;while to the westis the valley of a similar but even smaller feature, theAnhangabahii Black-devil water a branchlet of theTamanduatahy.During the first thirty years of the seventeenthcentury, Sao Paulo contained only three or fourhundred houses, for the most part simple cottages,walled with pise or rough concrete, and roofed withthatch or tile ;of these, hardly one in ten belonged tofamilies in easy circumstances, whilst four or five largechurches made the mean habitations look meaner still.No neat " chacara " or villa rose from the orchard andthe garden which now combine the jasmine and therose, the pink and the myrtle. The long streets weretraced with tolerably straight lines ;the cross-alleyswere compelled by the slopes touse the rudest stepsof granite and " bullock's blood," a deep-red sandstonebrought from the neighbouring mountains.Wheeled vehicles were, of course, unknown, and themules were sometimes engulfed in the mud-holes thatyawned between the pavement slabs.Commanding the eminence, whose feet were washedby the Tamanduatahy, and on the highest and most

OLD SAO PAULO. 5picturesque site rose the convent of the Company ofJesus, now the palace of the President and hall of theChamber of Deputies. The double-storeyed frontage,tasteless and almost barbarous, as indeed appear to beall the architectural efforts of the Jesuits in the Brazil,formed two sides of the main square. On the northwas the habitation of the Fathers ;to the east, at rightangles, stood the modest church of the Order, withits short and substantial belfry. Behind their longand rambling building the riverine valley-banks wereplanted with fruit-trees, especially the orange, theguava, and the delicious Jaboticaba-myrtle. Fromthis vantage-ground the eye ranged across the valleyof the Tiete', bound on the east by the heights whichbear the Penha church, and on the north by" theSerra da Cantereira of the potter's wife " the lastoffsets of the great and famous Mantiqueira range.In those days the population consisted of aboutthree thousand souls; a few were pure Portuguese,some were " Mamelucos " or half-breeds, white andIndian ;others were mulattoes and negro slaves, whilstthe majority were free and catechised aborigines.Already the monastic orders had built for themselveshouses ;the most important, however, was the Instituteof Saint Ignatius de Loyola; and stringent ordersfrom the home-capital had recommended to theauthorities, civil and military, the support and protectionof the Jesuits as the apostles of the Indians andthe firmest stays of the altar and the throne.The several classes were distinguished by theirprofessions and habits. The Portuguese, either bornin Europe or in the Brazil, busied themselves withcommerce and barter, with building houses and layingout plantations, and with similar primitive industries;the slaves were confined to husbandry and topersonal services. Although held the least respectableof all classes, the " Mamelucos " were the audaciousexplorers of the far western wilds. They con-

6 MANUEL DE MORAES.tinually excited European covetousness by discoveringmines of gold and other metals, and by bringing backwith them thousands of captives, or, as the term thenwas, "rescued men," whose lives they were by lawpermitted to purchase.Frequent and furious were the contests betweenthese laymen and the Jesuits, who strove to defendthe hapless indigens and to preserve the rights andprivileges of the savage freeman. The Regulars neverfeared to resist their brother " Conquistadores," who,under a variety of pretexts, converted to their ownuse the persons and property of the "Indians andGentiles." The Fathers were assisted by the respectof the people, by the superstitious belief of the age,and, at first, by the public conviction of their pureintentions. But presently the successors of the earlyThaumaturgi and Apostles showed that their defenceof the " native " was limited to preserving him fromall except themselves ;whilst hands were wanting totheir own lands were tilled and their coffersothers,were filled to overflowing. This monopoly of preciouslabour led to discontent, and the latter engendered asuccession of tumults, which ended in the first expulsionof the Jesuits from Sao Paulo.The catechised Indians, known as "Caboclos,"formed a separate class, at once submissive and devout;simple, active, and industrious. It was composedchiefly of mechanics, agriculturists, musiciansand singers. All learned the offices and delighted inthe feasts of the Church, in splendid ceremonies, andespecially in long and pompous processions ; briefly,in all things which appealed to the eye of sense.They obeyed and revered the Jesuits as their fathersand friends, their masters and protectors, their medicine-menand their guardian angels. They listenedto their counsels, they attended the schools in whichthe Portuguese language and grammar were taught :they sought to understand the explanation of the

OLD SAO PAULO. 7Roman Catechism, and they applied themselves withespecial ardour to the song and the sacred musicwith which the Jesuits softened and polished theirfaith and manners. They sent their children immediatelyafter infancy to the church-choirs, where theystudied instrumental performance and the sundryharmonious services of their religion.The captaincy of Sao Vicente, now known as theprovince of Sao Paulo, was then governed by theheirs of the first grandee, who appointed as theirrepresentatives authorities entitled lieutenants andcaptains-major (capitaes-mores). All did homage intemporal matters to the Governor of Rio de Janeiro.In its earliest days Sao Paulo had fought withvalour and success against the Tamoyo tribe of Riode Janeiro, who had taken the part of the Frenchinvader. This race made incessant attacks upon itssouthern neighbours, robbing and slaying them withoutruth or regard to age or sex; and its violenceterrified the milder Carijds and Goyanazes, who inhabitedthe plains and forests of our captaincy. Atlength, by the valour of the Paulistas and their Indianauxiliaries, the Tamoyo name ceased to be a bywordin the land.But what groans and sorrow, what prayers in thetemples, what genuflexions before the altars followedthe evil report that the Hollanders, having seized thecity Sao Salvador da Bahia, and soon afterwards ofPernambuco, threatened to drown the Brazil in aflood of calamities, and to raise upon the ruins of theRoman religion the cold and lifeless abstraction of aReformed faith, whose apostles were Luther, Calvin,and their herd of followers. Hearing the hatefulsuccesses of these heretics, all the people of the townand its environs, guided by the Jesuits and by theauthorities, flocked to implore mercy and salvationfrom the Eternal. Curses loud and deep mingledwith the tears of the whites and the Mamelucos, of

8 MANUEL DE MORAES.the Gentiles and the slaves, who violently beat theirbreasts, severely scourged themselves, and wearied outevery saint of the calendar with petitions for pity andprotection. And how describe the joy and enthusiasmwith which they heard the triumph of Portugal andSpain united under the sceptre of Philip of Castile ?Such was the state of affairs when, on an Aprilevening of 1628, two men walked down the slopeupon whose summit rose the Jesuit convent, andbegan to pace to and fro under the myrtle avenuesbordering the Tamanduatahy.Both wore the habit of the Jesuits ; one, however,had passed the age of forty, at which time men beginto die ;his hair was already waxing iron grey, and hishead somewhat bald. A sympathetic and amiablecountenance, eyes full of loving-kindness, and gentlemanners distinguished from his fellows this FatherEusebio de Monserrate.Conversing with his companion, who had littleexceeded the first score of years, the priest nowfingered the big black beads of a lengthy rosary, endingin a large metal cross then; stopped for a momentthe better to listen and to reply with short and guardedwords. Now he raised his eyes to heaven, then hefixed them upon the youth as if to read the secrets ofhis soul. Tall, vigorous, and framed for activity wasthe junior, still a Novice in the Company; but now,weighed down by sorrow, he was apparently readier toconfess himself than to keep up a regular and consecutiveexchange of thoughts.Lingeringly died out the daylight after the sun hadburied itself behind tall Jaragua, the saddle-back frontingthe Penha mound. The latest splendours of thewest were reflected eastwards in bands of pink andgreen, which seemed to rise and spire upwards as thecrimson glow waxed cooler ;and presently they gaveway to a soft neutral tint, based upon a vaporousgrey, and tinged with the faintest emerald, where it

OLD SAO PAULO. 9met the rose-colour of the zenith. A sweet sea-breezefrom the east, sporting with the flowers and the leaves,refreshed an atmospherestill heated by the breath ofnoon, and dispersed the mists which began to gloomover the humid lowlands. Nature prepared to takeher rest ;the timid dove, flushed by the softest sound,arose from the path, and sought amid the branches asafe roosting- place, whilst upon the boughs of a blastedpine-tree the large dark-brown buzzards gathered torepose their pinions after the long laborious flights ofthe hours of light.The bells of the Jesuit Campanile struck seven asthe two men whom we have described neared thestream. Both, reverently raising their felt hats withenormous flaps, broke off speech to address the MostHigh. Having crossed themselves after prayer, theFather took the hand of the Novice and thus addressedhim :" Thou wouldst then quit the house of God andgive up the service of religion and the Company ? "" I feel no calling for the ghostly state," replied theyouth, attempting to kiss the hand that was withdrawn." Doth not the Lord guide His own creation? " he resumed after some moments of silence." If He grant not to me the will and the vocation,it is that He destineth me for another career.""Thine end will be miserable, my son," rejoinedthe Padre. "The Almighty ordaineth no tyranny.Hardly He granteth conviction that the stray sheepmay be gathered into the fold of the Church. Hecreateth men free that they may be responsible forwill and deed. But thou wilt be wretched. TheCatholic Church is the divine reason, the sole salvationof mankind ;and there can be no rest for himwho abandoneth her, and who plungeth into thedepths " of this world of woe."Why then did not God sow in my heart the seedof longing and ardent aspiration for a priestly life

ioMANUEL DE MORAES.and for the rigorous discipline demanded by the holyInstitute ? " inquired the youth with an outburst ofbitterness that betrayed the excitement of his spirit." That thou mayest learn to subdue the passionswhich agitate mankind," replied the elder. "Thegreater is his gain who sacrificeth himself in thestruggle, and who conquereth the unruly instincts of"nature and youth!"And of what value can be such mock piety ? "murmured the youth.The Jesuit smiled sadly, reading the depthsof hiscompanion's thoughts, and, reaching a fallen tree, hesat upon it, drawing to his side the unhappy Novice." Listen to me," said the Father, with kindly accents.I too have passed through thine age I too";have felt boiling in my bosom the passions which Iperceive in thee passions which drove me from thepath of true happiness here, and which threatenedto do so hereafter. I also, like saintly Ignatius deLoyola, the founder of our holy Institution, foundmyself engaged in the extravagant and disorderlystruggles of life. I too have fought like a soldier,have travelled like a pilgrim, have suffered hungerand thirst, peril, imprisonment, and exile. I, as wellas others, learned to my cost, was taught by theexperience of evil, sincerely to repent me of my misdeeds,and the Eternal took pity upon me. Heopened for me in due time the eyes of reason, andHe led me to seek refuge and repose of body andsoul in His sacred house. May God be merciful tothee also, and show thee in eternity His infinite compassion" !"Ah ! let me also taste the joys of my youth,"exclaimed the Novice." Let Nature follow in mycase, as she did in thine, her legitimate career."The Padre looked at him, and saw, despite thewords which betrayed a firm resolution, tears startingfrom his eyes. He judged this exaltation of fancy to

OLD SAO PAULO.nbe rather the green longings of inexperience than thecold settled purpose of an evil He will. felt deep pityfor the youth, and the sentiment was increased by thememories of his own past. Presently with a close andfriendly embrace he" said, Religion gaineth nothingby doubts and struggles of the spirit, nor will theCompany of Saint Ignatius accept involuntary service.Go thy ways. My conscience biddeth me bless thyspeeding forth, and entreat Almighty God that HeMaymay befriend thee in thy rough and stony path.He open to thee the treasures of His ineffable grace"in time to save thee from all dangers !The Novice fellupon his knees and humbly receivedthe benediction of the Religious. At the parting,the Padre felt his eyes fill with tears, whichrolled down cheeks that were pale and drawn bygrief. He followed with his glance the youth wholeft the enclosure and disappeared in the shades ofnight. He then arose from the tree-trunk, andmechanically climbed the hill towards the convent.Reaching the summit, he turned him round andsought once more to see the Novice.Vain attempt! He had vanished from that scenefor evermore.During a few minutes the good Father prayed insilence; he then answered the porter's greeting andentered the establishment. Taking the way to thechurch, he fell prostrate before the altar, and in thatposition he prayed two long hours for the soul's wealof that unhappy Novice, torn from a religious vocationby the temptations of the world, the flesh, and thedevil.

CHAPTER II.THE NOVICE.MEANWHILE Manuel de Moraes, for such was thename of our Novice, after leaving the Jesuits' Close,Avalked quickly towards the centre of the settlement.Born in the earlier years of the seventeenthcentury, the youth had been brought up by his father,Jose de Moraes, for the laborious life of a Jesuitmissioner. It was the parent's settled convictionthat this was the happiest condition of man, and theposition at once the most brilliant and the mostuseful to society open to the only son with whomProvidence had blessed him.Jose, a native of Minho in Portugal, had theremarried Ignez da Dores, and, driven by poverty fromhome, he had sought fortune with her in distantBrazil. Guided by the Jesuits, whom he ferventlyadmired, he had applied himself to agriculture in thecaptaincy of Sao Vicente, and he had achieved thereputation of an honest man. His family numbered,besides Manuel, three young daughters, whose tenderminds were trained by their mother to tread thepaths of honour and religion.Josd had himself intrusted his beloved son to thecare of the Company, and more especially to PadreEusebio de Monserrate, his old friend and protector.The boy had shown early talent. No studentexcelled him in acuteness and penetration, in desireto please, and in willingness to learn. He had wonthe esteem of his teachers by his scholarly turn of

THE NOVICE. 13mind and by the regularity of his life, although hehad often incurred their blame by opposing andresisting the discipline and the mystic devotion inculcatedby the Fathers of the Company.Eusebio de Monserrate attempted to bend thislofty will, and to modify the evidently mundanetendencies of the Novice. He failed, as we have seen.Manuel de Moraes resolved to fly the holy house,and he hoped to obtain the parental consent byshowing his father that advice and warning were invain.The night became stormy. The sunset breezepresently fell to a profound calm. Lightning fromthe south-east flashed over the horizon, and rose ingerbes and jets, in balls and globes of fire, as thoughproduced by art an appearance which the electricfluid often assumes in the Highlands of the Brazil.At first a thin warm rain drizzled through the air, butthe drops soon became heavier, and the black cloudsthreatened a torrential downfall.Grave thoughts haunted the Novice, whom theimportant step which he had just taken had mademore than usually susceptible of impressions fromwithout. How would he be received by his fatherwhen the latter came to learn his headstrong plansand projects ? Had Padre Eusebio broken thetidings to his parent ? What career, what adventures,awaited him now that he no longer belonged to theflock of Saint Ignatius ? Would this entire liberty,this plunge into the depths of laical society, a world tohim utterly unknown, be really what his fancy paintedit? Would it be better suited to his character andambition than the religious community which hadsheltered him to the age of twenty-four?Descending a steep slope which led to the hillwhere his father's house stood on the edge of thesettlement, he heard loud cries and unusual soundsproceeding from the lower depths of a wretched alley.

14 MANUEL DE MORAES.Though unarmed, he was dressed in the blacksoutane of the Order ;and his high spirit hurried himat once in the direction of the voice, which seemedto call for assistance. And did not the Jesuit garblend him a moral force superior to all physicalstrength ?Turning the corner of a gloomy by-street, he foundhimself fronting a group of four men and a girl, whilstthe dense shade prevented more minute observation.Approaching them suddenly, he cried out, showingthe cross of his rosary" Stop, ye sinners! in the name of God, stop ! "More effectual than the sword was the Novice'sresolute exclamation. Three of the men at oncetook to flight ;the fourth fell upon his knees beforethe young priest, and the woman who, uttering loudshrieks, had been dragged along the ground, hastenedto follow his example. Both poured forth at thesame time expressions of gratitude and kissed theJesuit habit." What hath happened ? " inquired Manuel deMoraes in consoling accents, hasteningto raisethem." Padre," exclaimed the man in a calmer" tone, Iam a poor Carijo, and this maiden is my daughter.Here was our abode," pointing to a" pauper shanty.Three whites burst in the door, tore my Cora fromher bed, and dragged her into the street. I awokewith a start, and embraced my girl with a father'sarms, which are stronger than the best of weapons.We were struggling when your Reverence came upand " saved us."And whose blood is this ? " asked Manuel, seeingred stains upon the Indian's head, face, and cottonshirt." " It is a small matter, O my preserver! exclaimedthe Indian, pressing his lips to the hand of hisdeliverer." Only a few traces of the cudgel. It is

THE NOVICE. 15nought since my Cora hath escaped from her persecutors."" Hast thou recognised the robbers?" asked theyouth." " They are dogs," was the Carijo's reply. I couldnot well see their faces, but I hold them to be nonebut certain bad white neighbours who kidnap in SaoPaulo without respect for the voice of the holy Missionariesor fear of the Eternal God's chastisements.We are poor weak Pagans, and only the Padres can"succour and preserve us !They walked towards the wretched hovel where theIndians lived, and found its only door torn from itshinges and lying upon the ground. All three entered.The Carijo struck fire with a flint, and with a few drysplints lighted up the interior. Hereupon Manuelrecognised the Caboclo as one of the most faithfulfollowers of his religion and frequenters of the Company'sChurch.The man wore a shirt and short drawers of undyedcotton ;his feet were naked, but his aspect was notthat of a slave. Cora was dressed in a large-sleevedgown of the same material, girt tightly round the waist.Her thick black locks, shining like polished jet, fellupon her shoulders. Eyes almond-shaped, with thedarkest pupils set in bluish white eyes to which afringe of curving lashes lent the softest expressionadmirably harmonised with the flush of youthfulcheeks, with the delicate pink of the mouth, with thepleasing lines of the features, and with the bending ofthe Indian form.A large coarse print of the Blessed Virgin adornedthe walls of the hovel, which were of clay, whilsttamped earth formed the floor.Manuel aided the Indian to replace the door of theshanty, calmed him with advice how to guard againstthe future, and exhorted the maiden to persevere inthe paths of virtue. Then he took leave and resumed

16 MANUEL DE MORAES.his way, meditating on the struggle of the two racesthus placed faced to face, one fated to disappear fromthe surface of earth, the other destined to break awayfrom the prestige and authority with which the Fathersof the Company attempted to repress its semi-barbarousinstincts.He dimly felt that, in the battle of life, the weakerbrain and body must make room for the stronger, andthat their destruction was but a matter of time. Thesentimental feeling in favour of a doomed race stoleover him. He was tempted to return into the bosomof an Order whose object was to save so [many helplesssouls, and to protect so many lives rendered interestingby their feeblenessof life and faith.and by their innocencyBut either false shame forbade him to retrace hissteps, or an innate but ill-defined aspiration, whichblinded his reason and attracted his ambition to theunknown world of society, compelled him to work outhis fate.Immersed in such reverie he reached his home.profound quiet hovered over the settlement ;not alight shone in the streets ;not a door nor a windowstood open. The sky waxed still more gloomy ;therain became thicker ;the wind blew in sudden gusts ;the lightning gleamed with lurid fire, and the thunder,still distant, muttered its ominous promise to approach.The family of Jose de Moraes was not rich in thegifts of fortune, yet knew it no want the; industry ofits Chief suppliedit with all the necessaries and withsome of the comforts of life. The father, whose agemight have been between forty-five and fifty years, wasseated in a Rede or net-hammock, and around himstood his wife and three young daughters apparentlylistening to his words. The furniture consisted of a fewstools and benches, a Girdo or rough platform on fourpoles some wooden hooks to which were suspended;various implements, and a large water-jar of red pot-A

THE NOVICE. 17tery occupied the corner. Finally, a table of roughplanking near the middle of the room supported alighted candle in a wooden candlestick, and the coldremnants of a meal.The frugal supper had just ended, and the familywas receiving the blessing of its Chief before retiringto rest." Louvado seja nosso Senhor Jesu"Christo !(Blessed be our Lord Jesus Christ!) ejaculated theson, using the normal Jesuit formula, and reverentlykissing the hands of his father and mother." What ! out of the Holy House at such untimelyhours? Thou bringest to us bad tidings of evil."The sudden question, which sounded like a direomen, caused Manuel to turn pale. How announcehis desertion of the Company to a father whose mindclung so lovingly to the blessedness of ecclesiasticlife, to the conviction that nothing equalled the religiousmission ?Before attempting a reply he tried to deprecate theeffects which must result from his disclosures by affectionateinquiries addressed to the family after threedays of absence.Jose de Moraes assured him in a few curt wordsthat all were in full health of soul and body, andagain demanded the cause of this unexpected visit.The son felt that the tale must be told as brieflyas possible. Already Jose de Moraes had been displeasedby his unwillingness to exchange the noviciatefor the brotherhood, the second degree of the Order,and the necessary preliminary to the Priesthood. Thefather had ever kept his son, even from the earliestage, at the most respectful distance, breeding fearwhere love should have been ; yet, when profoundlyirritated at times by the reports of the Jesuits whichreached his ears, he expected the youth to open hisheart as to a friend, and he chafed as at a grievancewhen this was not done.

i8MANUEL DE MORAES." Before answering you, my beloved father," saidManuel, kneeling upon the ground in the presence ofHis parent, and clinging to his hand with extreme" affection, before answering you, I venture to implore"your pardon !Hearing these words, Jose de Moraes snatchedaway the hand which his son was stillholding to hislips, rose to his feet, and retiring a few steps, assumedthe sternest aspect, and exclaimed in his harshest tones,"What crime hast thou committed to dishonour myblood? I must know it before God may permit mein my ignorance to "pronounce thy pardon !The unhappy Manuel then became certain thatPadre Monserrate had not prepared his father for theblow about to fallupon him. Terrified by this unforeseencircumstance, he stood silent for some minutes,and the voice which attempted to utter a reply expiredon his lips.Nothing remained for Jose de Moraes but to order,after a glance which seemed to dive into his son'sthoughts, that the truth and the whole truth be atonce told.Bending his head in deep grief, whilst tears rolledslowly down his cheeks, Manuel ejaculated, with the"most painful effort, Father, I have sinned against thywill ;I have failed in my own desire to obey thee."The parent raised his hand to a brow from whichtime had already bared the hair. Despite his suddenaffliction he drew himself up proudly, his eyes gleamed,his lips set firmly, and the expression of his countenance" foretold the coming storm.Then they have expelled thee from the Company?"he presently cried in despair."No, Senhor," replied Manuel, whose voice suddenlyrecovered something of its firmness. " Myconduct in the house of the holy Fathers has ever beencorrect. They will themselves assure you that I bearamongst them a spotless name."

THE NOVICE.19" The greater then thy offence," retorted the oldman." Thou hast covered with dishonour thy father,thy family, and thyself by some horrible misdeedcommitted outside the cloister."" No, Sir," continued Manuel, yet more tranquilly." I have ever trodden the paths of virtue, even as youtaught me to tread them."" I understand thee not," exclaimed Jose' de Moraes,much relieved by hearing this formal denial of hissuspicions and the horrible ideas bred by his ownthoughts." I have committed no crime, Sir I have done;no unworthy deed," continued Manuel ;" but I havebroken your commands ;I have disobeyed your will :however much I wished to satisfy you, my nature"forbade it !More and more confused waxed the brain of Josede Moraes as he heard these simple words uttered byhis son with the gest and tone of one resolved to frontthe worst. What then could have happened so greatlyto afflict a father's heart? In what had Manuel sodespised the commands and disobeyed the paternalwill to an extent that required a pardon to be askedbefore the offence was known ? Not a gleam of intelligencesupplied to him the key of the secret or lit upthe dark significance of his son's words. Though stilldisquieted, he began to show less exasperation.The agonised mother stood motionless as a statue,without a word, without a movement ;her eyes,drowned in tears, roved from son to husband, fromJose* to Manuel, without daring to dwell upon eithercountenance.The two elder daughters embraced the little one,who might have numbered six summers ; and, retiringinto a comer, formed a group of terrified innocents,whose breathing was hushed by the terror of thescene."What, then, hast thou done?" asked with morei

20 MANUEL DE MORAES.composure Jose de Moraes, approaching his son, andyielding to him after a struggle the hand which theNovice seemed to implore. At length the father gaveway, less, however, to prove affection than to encouragethe youth in telling the whole truth." Father, pardon me first," repeated Manuel. " Promiseme your forgiveness, and I will open to you allmy heart."" Confess thou first !" exclaimed the old man, againretiring from his son, and showing evident signs of afresh outbreak of wrath.Silence reigned in the room.Neither the son dared to speak, because the fatherhad not encouraged him with a gesture or by a wordof kindness ;nor would the old man, after thus givingexpression to what he meant, deign to continue thedialogue.Meanwhile the house-dog, whose tailbegan to wagas the noise of angry voices subsided, approachedManuel to welcome him home after the faithful fashionof itshardly used kind.Be off! " cried the wrathful old man, with a fierceglance at the affectionate beast, which he drove with akick from one end of the room to the other.The dog, restraining a howl, rose slowly and creptsadly towards the street door, its usual station. Thereit crouched down, still, however, keeping a watchfuleye upon the scene, whose purportit seemed to divine.At length, with the desire and hope of ending thecruel scene, in which he took so prominent a part,Manuel resolved to speak out. He humbly bent hishead, and with frequent pauses thus expressed himself:"I never found in myself a vocation for the peacefullife of the Cloister, for the career of the Religious.Many years have I struggled to overcome my will, tobend my spirit, to repress my longings for the worldand for worldly existence to; stifle the cries of my

THE NOVICE. 21soul, to silence the voice that summoned me to anotherI cannot belong to the Company of Jesus, asdestiny.you, Sir, have resolved, and as I in obedience oughtto do. Father, I prefer to abandon the Soutane, toleave the Order, and to assist you in the labours ofyour" life."Never"! cried the old man"with vehemence. Ihave dedicated thee to Missionary life for thy good,for the service of God, for the love of Religion, and forthe honour of thy family."" That life, Sir, I will no more lead. This Soutanenow belongs to me not, this garb is no longer mine. Ihave left the house of the CompanyI have bidden it;farewell for ever. God refuses to accept vows whichare not from the heart and soul."These decided terms, expressed in a voice not lessfirm, excited to the highest degree the irritation ofJose de Moraes. Without hesitating a moment, hereplied to his son's retort by one even more stubbornand determined." I no longer own thee to be my child. Fly frommy presence ;leave at once this house which thouhast disgraced, and whose door shall for ever be shutagainst thee."Manuel would have spoken, but the fierceness ofhis father made his heart sink. He looked towardshis mother, who dropped sobbing upon a bench ;towards his sisters, who, like doves in the presenceof the hawk, cowered and clung together closer andcloser." My dearest mother " ! were the tearful accentswhich burst from his lips.The mother half rose to embrace her son, when theold man, who with outstretched arm stood pointingto the door, frightened her once more to her seat." "O Manuel "! cried the miserable parent, obeythy father, return to thy duties, and" It cannot now be," murmured the Novice.

22 MANUEL DE MORAES." Silence, Senhora !" cried the father, cutting shortthe thread of her words."He who standeth there is alost man ;he is no more our son. Be with him hisfather's curse and the unfailing wrath of Heaven."Dona Ignez could say no more. She sat overwhelmedin submissive grief, like the Virgin of theDolours, whose soul was rent by woe ineffable, whilstfull of that evangelic and holy resignation of whichonly the scions of celestial birth are capable.Then Manuel rose from his knees. He attemptedto approach his father, who drove him away forcibly.He tried to speak, when an expressive gesture commandedsilence. Approaching his mother, he tookher hand, but the old man tore itaway instantlybefore " the son could touch it with his lips.Go forth to "thy fate, thou wretch ! cried themaddened father.Manuel saw that such excitement could not becalmed, that naught remained but to quit the house.He opened the street door, and, before itclosing forthe last time, he turned again upon his parents eyesfull of tears, a look praying for love and pity.Asudden burst of sobs and a cry of " Farewell " ! and" "God be with thee ! in the voice of a broken heartwere the response. The old man ended the scene byrunning to the door, and fasteningitupon his son,who found himself homeless and in the street.

CHAPTER III.THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS.MEANWHILE the tornado ragedits fiercest ;Nature wasin mourning, and the blackness of night veiled theroad where not illuminated by the momentary flashingof the sheet-lightning, and by the forks and zigzagsof the rapid discharges. But for these the Novicewould assuredly have lost himself in the web of darkand narrow lanes, whose mud and dust he had troddensince his infancy.Slowly, and feeling, as itwere, the path, he walkednorthward towards the riverine valley-plain beyondthe settlement. After some three-quarters of an hour,passing at rare intervals some wretched hovel, hereached the place now known as the "Luz," ornorthern suburb, because it was chosen, long after thedate of our tale, for a Chapel and Convent of thatinvocation.Though his soutane dripped lines of rain, and hiscoarse shoes had been buried deep in mud, Manuelwent on for about half an hour, till he reached a roughtenement belonging to a friend of his earliest years,from whom he expected food and shelter.Antonio da Costa, startled by the sudden appearanceat such at time, supplied the Novice with achange of clothing and induced him to taste a slendermeal. Our new personage was a man of two-andtwenty,but already looking older than his age. Livingsolitary in the little sitio or farm, the scanty portionleft to him by his parents, and endowed with anardent imagination and noble sentiments, he vegetated

24 MANUEL DE MORAES,in a hopeless and enforced idleness, which, preying onhis vitals, made life hateful.Manuel frankly summed up for his friend the eventsof the evening and the state of his affairs whilst;Antonio, applying the moral to his own case, understoodthat now was the time to link together theirfortunes, and find means of facing the world so newto both.Instead of sleeping, the young men spent the remnantof the night in conversation and reverie, and they hadnot come to any resolution before the first pale raysof dawn descended upon the glooms of earth. Thestorm had worked off, and the day promised to bebright and calm.As theystill sat upon the same bedstead in earnesttalk, a loud noise was heard coming from the road, aconfusion of brawling voices, all speaking at the sametime and in the highest tones. Opening the nearestshutter, the friends saw tramping before them a littlecolumn composed of some thirty whites and " Mame-about double the number oflucos," followed byRedskins. They were habited in wayfarers' costume,broad-brimmed hats of fibre or skull-caps ofthe thickest woollen stuff, cotton jackets, breeches,and sandals; their rough upper coats were twistedround their waists, and small canvas bags hung bytheir sides. All carried arms, long matchlocks,swords, and matchets or side-knives, and their recklesscountenances and martial swagger showed whaterrand was theirs. The two youths at once understoodthat before them was a " Bandeira," a Commando ofadventurers, such as the Portuguese of Sao Paulo hadin those days begun to organise.The group haltedin front of the cottage occupiedby Antonio da Costa, and there began to debatesome important matter with more of loudness andviolence than " before.No need of more prate," exclaimed a stentorian

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 25voice, drowningthe lesser sounds about him."MatheusChagas (' of the Stigmata knows the ') way best ;he is a backwoodsman to the backbone ;we oughtto put ourselves in his hands. No Bandeira is of usewithout a head ;let Matheus Chagas be acclaimed"our Chief !Shouts of applause followed these words, and mostof the adventurers cried, "Viva Matheus Chagas!"Then broke through the crowd a short, stout figure,whose bullet - shaped head and bandy legs showedhis strength, whilst a scar seaming a sunburnt face,whose breadth at the jaw was nearly double that atthe eyebrows, proved that he had seen service. Hishorny hands grasped a mighty fire-piece, whilst ahuge knife slung to his side hinted that he was readyto see service again. This personage was the SenhorMatheus Chagas, suddenly transformed by the acclamationsof his companions into a Commandant." "Friends ! he exclaimed with emphasis, afterreturning thanks for his promotion, "I will leadyouall in a bee-line to Peru. We shall find ourmeat in the bush, our fish in the streams, water toquench our thirst, savoury fruits to refresh us, shadytrees to shelter us from the sun, and Pagans in numbersto seize and to sell.to Heaven we shallI hopeenter the land of the Spaniard more happily thanAleixo Garcia, whom they scandalously and cruellyrobbed and murdered, and that we shall carry offand silver. Know not thatmany a load of gold ye the Cacique Taubixi advised the Portuguese of SaoPaulo to march upon all these riches, and to assisthim against the Castilians, who wanted only toplunder the property of the Pagans, and to slay theirwives and children ? "" " Bravo ! bravo ! Viva Matheus Chagas! Andallapplauded with voices rising in cadence to ascream and a " yell."Form up, then, and forwards ! continued the

26 MANUEL DE MORAES.fiery speaker. "Thirty leagueshence our troublesbegin. Till then a journey of roses. After that,Pagan rascals posted behind trees, charges of thejaguar on the bank, biting of the rattlesnake in thehollow. But never you fear ! All these dangers areknown to me. I served with one of the men whomMartim Affonso sent to the far west under theCaptain Jose Sedenho l with the view of aidingAleixo Garcia, and of whom few escaped the fray.Friends ! let us be marching ! "Although only legends of Aleixo Garcia, and meretales of the Peruvian Spaniards, superior to all inaudacity, declared the existence of gold and silvermines in the bosom of the far west, and although ofthese not one had been discovered by the Portuguese ;yet the idea obtaining general credence, spoke to theirgreed of gain, and drove them to endure the severesttrials of to life, plunge into the densest forests, tocross the most dangerous rivers, and to climb themost precipitous mountains. Much owed the crownof Portugal to these bands of daring men. Theyconquered whole tracts of territory ; they overlappedwith their frontiers those of the Spaniards ; theyformed nuclei of villages and settlements, which, withtime, became towns and cities ;and they openedlines of road to the farthest west from the sea-shoreupon which Europeans had begun to establish themselves.Many of these unknown braves ended theirdays in the desert whole; troops disappeared without1Padre Ticho in his work upon Paraguay, and the " HistoriaArgentina" (lib. i. chap, v.), relates the fate of Aleixo Garcia,who, sent to explore by Martim AfFonso, lost his life at thehand of Gaboto (Cabot), whilst the latter became master of thesilver-mines. The same authors speak of the invitation of Taubixi,and Padre Ticho tells the tale of Sedenho and his sixtymen, most of whom perished with their Chief. It is very unlikelythat this most amiable of explorers, justly entitled " Elbuen Gaboto," would have been guilty of such an atrocity.Translator's Note.

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 27leaving a sign. They were not spared in combat bythe poisoned shaft of the savage, nor after defeat bythe terrible " tacape," or tomahawk, with which the RedMan brained the prisoners doomed to become theirhorrid banquets. But the results of these expeditionsof the Paulistas were extraordinary gains and advantagesfor the colonies, which increased wonderfully inextent, in population and in wealth.Manuel de Moraes looked at his friend and said,''Doth not Heaven show us what we have to do ?Why should not we accompany these men in theirwanderings " ?And suddenly the same thought presented itself"to Antonio da Costa, who replied, So be it, and at"once !They lost no time in further speech. The Novicedonned his soutane, now dry, and his broad-brimmedfelt. Antonio dressed himself in a jacket of coarsecotton, threw over it a rough woollen cape, coveredhis head with a straw hat, and caught up his swordand fire-piece. They both left the cottage, whosedoor they closed, and hastening after the band, whichhad already gained some distance, they came up withitupon the banks of the river Tiete. Antonio daCosta demanded to speak with the Chief, and offeredhimself and his companion to the Senhor MatheusChagas." "Ho ! ho " ! vociferated certain voices. What isthe use of these hobbledehoys, these mamma's darlingsWe ?need stout fellows, ready to work and fight, notcockerels, who will only crow and give trouble.""Silence there!" shouted Matheus Chagas. "Ilead here, and I grant them leave to join us. Now"we have priest and sacristan !Shouts of ribald laughter from the band followedthis irreverent sally. The jest, in fact, suited thedress of Manuel de Moraes and the juvenile appearanceof Antonio da Costa.A sudden blush mounted

28 MANUEL DE MORAES.to the cheek of the Novice, who, turning to his friend,whispered that they had better withdraw. But thelatter bade him disregard the jeering of the crowd ;thedie of destiny was now cast.Then all resumed their way along the left bank ofthe Tiete, till, at a clearing farther down, they foundsix of the roughest craft, untrimmed tree -trunkslashed together with creepers as ropes, and resemblingthe modern Jangada or Catamaran of the NorthBrazilian coast. Upon these they embarked, slungtheir goods and provisions that they might not bewashed off by the waters, and, casting loose the cordswhich bound the craft to their poles, slowly paddleddown-stream.The Tie"te river wound itslong length, like agigantic serpent with immense horizontal folds, inreaches, bends, and horse-shoes, whose silvery, mirrorysurface often glittered through the verd-obscureof the avenued vegetation. Here were lawn-likeslopes, tenanted by patriarchal trees of Indian name,the wild fig, the Cabiuna or balm-tree, the toweringJatoba, the foliaged Gabirdba, the iron-wood, and theJacaranda or rosewood. There ridges of high landsloped to the banks, and bore upon their backs crestsof the densest primeval forest, whose columnar bolesand mighty arms were laced and hung with a thousandllianas, beautiful parasites, lit up by sparks of flowers,and diffusing through the air delicious odours. Thecries of the navigators and the splashing of the littlefleet startled hosts of birds, which fled for refuge intothe inner depths. Here moaned the Jurity-dove, asthough lamenting the death of her young; therescreamed the parroquet, winging his way high in air ;there the vibrating and sudden note of the Arapdngaor bell-bird resembled the stroke of the hammerupon the anvil. Now the nimble Cotia 1 sprang1The well-known Agouti, called by the Brazilian savages"Acuty."Translator's Note.

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 29frightened up the bank ;then the chatter of the monkeyssuggested the scoffs and jeers of a crowd whichwas amusing itself with seeing the adventurers pass by.Every night the canoes were made fast to treetrunksor to poles planted in the ground, and fireswere litagainst the damp night-air, and the ounceand boa, whilst the simple supper of maize, manioc,and wild meat made up for the fatigues of the dayand supplied strength for the labours of the morrow.After setting a watch, the wearied men, wrapped intheir cloaks, slept under the twinkling light of thestars. Again at dawn they rose, regained their Catamarans,and pursued their dangerous way.Game was abundant, and it was not spared. Oftenduring the day the sharp crack of the fire-piece andthe whistle of the bullet rudely disturbed the silenceof the wilderness. In the morning and at nightfallhooks were thrown out, and soon drew on shore aprodigious variety of delicious fish, especially theSurubim, or sturgeon of the Brazil, the Bagre, theRobale, and the Dourado or gold-fish. This lentenfare was varied with the flesh of gallinaceous birds,the Penelope and the Curassou, and with venison andthe meat of large rodents, the Mocd, the Paca, andthe Capivara or water-hog.After eight days of sublime monotony, the adventurersreached the first Salto, or fall of the stream,across which ran a wall of rock, projected by buttresseson either side. A portage was here made ; the dismantledcatamarans, carried upon the men's shouldersto smooth waters below the leap, were once more puttogether. The breaks were rather rapids than fallsor cataracts; but the arrowy waters, dashing andfoaming through the steep-stoned breaches of therock-wall, the hollow whirlpools and the heaped-upridges of the current, would have dashed to piecesany craft clumsily handled whilst shooting the mauvaispas. The roughness of the banks and the

30 MANUEL DE MORAES.necessity of cutting paths added much to the toilsajid fatigues of the band : the weaker, however, foundstrength and support in the energetic presence andin the personal experience of Matheus Chagas.One day the piercing whistle of a wild beast rangthrough the luxuriant waste, and was answered by asecond, which excited the attention of every man.Matheus Chagas rose, and commanding silence witha gesture, said in under-tones to his followers" The Red Man is near; beware of his ambush ;heiscunning as the wolf, deadly as the serpent. Push"on, and silence !Then making for the shore, the Chief chose outthree Carijos whom he sent to reconnoitre the forest.These men plunged without delay into the mattedunderwood; they crept snake-like upon their stomachs;they sheltered themselves behind the tree-trunks, andtheir naked bodies, passing over the dried leaves, leftno sound, and advanced with the rapidity of the deer.Reaching the foot of a hillock, some five hundredyards from the place where the adventurers stoodready for offence or defence, the Carijos once morelay down at full length.A sepulchral silence brooded over the scene; nocry of bird or beast, no murmur of the water, nowhisper of the breeze. The burning sun darted hisangriest beams, driving into the gloom of the forestevery being that had life.The Carijos applied their ears to the ground, andasked from it intelligence of the afar-off. Two arethe Books which Savages study with profoundestattention ; Earth, which reveals what passes aroundthem ; Heaven, which tells them the vagaries of theatmosphere and the flight of time. After a quarter ofan hour passed in the exercise of every perceptivefaculty, the scouts arose slowly, and two of them respondedwith a movement of the head to the expressivegesture of the third. Then they inspected the

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 31soil to see what had lately passed over it.Finally,they returned to the adventurers cautiously as theyhad left them, and said to the Chief"The enemyis near, he isvery near, he is exceedinglynear. He is many in number, he is very many,he isexceedingly many." J" And how can you know ? " asked an inquisitivePortuguese." " Silence there ! cried Matheus " Chagas. I leadhere." Then he approached the Carijos, wishing toknow how far they supposed the enemy to be lurking." They are three to six bow-lengthsoff. We heardupon the ground their tread ;we saw on the earththeir prints."Hardly were the words spoken, when a bird, piercedby the six-foot Tupi shaft, crashed through the thickfoliage and fell close to the band. A Carijo fetchedthe quarry, a Jacutinga or white-winged Penelope, andplaced it in the Chiefs hands.There was no longer any doubt as to the neighbourhoodof the savages. But Matheus Chagas, brokento forays and frays, was not the man " to take alarm."The ambush ! the ambush ! he cried." Let thePadre go forth and speak to them ;throw dust intheir eyes, and count their numbers carefully. Now,fellows, dare to say the shaveling is of no use to "!youChoosing two Portuguese, two Mamelucos, and fourCarij6s, he ordered them privily and from afar tofollow Manuel de Moraes. He also advised theNovice to advance fearlessly upon the savages, to showhis rosary cross, and to address them about Heaven.Thus they might believe that they stood, not beforeenemies, but in the presence of peaceful missionarieseager to catechise them.Moraes prepared to obey with a stout heart, andAntonio da Costa, at his own request, was allowed by1For this habit of threefold repetition, see Jean de Leiy andPere Yves d'Evreux.Translator's Note.

32 MANUEL DE MORAES.the Chief to accompany his friend. Boththe eight adventurers concealed inyouths, withthe rear, took thedirection pointed out to them by the Carijo scouts.Presently Manuel and Antonio scaled a high andbroken headland ; and, reaching the summit, heard inthe low ground beyond a prolonged whooping andyelling, which showed the savages to be near.The Novice raised high his arms, clasping in hishands the cross and the rosary ; then, closely followedby his friend, he straightway walked towards thevoices. Not a sign of a human being appeared beforeor behind them.The slope led to a level which ran along the riverbank.Hardly had they advanced five hundred yardswhen they found themselves the centre of a whoopingswarm of savages, armed with stone knives andhatchets, clubs, tomahawks, and bows nearly eightfeet long. All were naked and bronzed. The onlydress was a tulip- shaped coronal of scarlet and yellowfeathers, fastened by a string to their brows, and asimilar kilt hanging from their waist.Both the youths felt their blood run cold and theirflesh creep in the presence of these cannibals, whoseemed to 1regard them as meat for the Boucan. ThenManuel, raising his head and hands, once more displayedthe cross, and began in Portuguese a discourse,to which the Indians lent all attention, thoughapparently without understanding it.Humbly bending,and with arms crossed like a penitent upon hisbosom, Antonio da Costa maintained a firm and resigneddemeanour. Both thus represented the partsintrusted to them. The Pagans all pressed forwardto examine their two visitors. Some applied themselvesto the improvised Jesuit, felt his soutane, wonderedat his hat, bent down to look at his big shoes,and were awed at his gestures and his incomprehen-1The frame on which meat was smoked ; hence our " buccancer."Translator's Note.

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 33sible words. Others applied themselves to the acolyte,whom they treated with less ceremony, the chief amusementbeing to pull his beard."A man of peace," pompously exclaimed Manuel,"I would bring to you peace, and teach you thereligion of the only God, the Creator of the universe.Leave, O savages this !wandering, erring life, whichis so rapidly hurrying you to perdition. The only Sonof God died upon Golgotha." . . .The Pagans interrupted him by a few quick wordsin the Guaram tongue. Some of their responsesescaped Manuel, but he caught the general tenor of thecommunication, having studied that language in thehouse of the Company. The savages exchanged suspicionsthat the whole scene was a snare, intendedto draw them to destruction. Manuel then addressedthem in their mother-speech." Yes, I have companions, but they shall remain farfrom you, and they shall work you no harm. Messengersof peace and seeking to befriend you, wecome here to address you."" The Whites are bad, they are very bad, they areexceedingly bad. They are liars, very liars, excessiveliars. We, we, we, do not believe you," respondedone " of them.Make yourselves easy," continued the Novice."Those who come with me are good and kind."Signs and signals passed between the savages, andsome of them felt the two youths to ascertain if theybore concealed weapons. No arms being found, hewho appeared to be the Chief of the tribe said to themresolutely" Page (father)! we are a strong Tribe, a large anda valiant : of a truth, we are a great Nation. Near usare our wigwams and our forts, our wives and children,our divining-rattles and our medicine-men. TheWhites are bad, they are very bad, they are exceedingbad. But we will do you no hurt. Take your way,

34 MANUEL DE MORAES.and go forth from amongst us never come ;again, or beit at your peril we will not look upon the pale face.":The Red-skins disappeared suddenly, as they hadshown themselves; and the young men, recoveringfrom their agitation, heard throughout the forest repeatedstrident whistlings, which showed that the foe,though unseen, was not off his guard. Then retracingtheir steps, they found hidden behind a tall tree theeight scouts that followed them." "Have a care ! said a" Carijo. They are manyhundred bows if ; they doubt us, we die."All returned in safety to the adventurers, whoanxiously expected them. Matheus Chagas, hearingtheir account, gave orders to halt for a day and anight, until the savages should have retired far fromthe stream. Then they once more proceeded on theirjourney, vigilantly, and with every precaution knownto the woodsman.Already they had travelled two months upon theTiete without meeting other adventures, when theyperceived that the stream was widening out excessively,spreading over extensive plains, flooding theforests, and running with greater violence than usual.Two days afterwards appeared in front a " broad "or lake of extraordinary dimensions, whose farthershore was not easily seen."'Tis the great river Parana," said one of the" we now enter its waters."Carijos ;Impossible to describe the might and magnificenceof this glorious stream. After traversing the lands ofMatto-Grosso, Minas-Geraes, and the northern part ofthe captaincy of Sao Vicente, and receiving tributariesof an importance almost equal to its own, the Paranaformed, at the place discovered by our adventurers, avast and beautiful bay, fed on one side by the RioTiete, on the other by the.Sucuriii and the Pardostreams. The frail craft escaped the fury of the windsby hugging the left bank, and in calmer weather crossed

THE RAID OF MATHEUS CHAGAS. 35the mouths of other great influents, such as the Aguapehiand the Santo Anastacio. When the adventurersapproached the Parandpanema river, Matheus orderedthem to exchange the main artery for the branch.They found it necessary to contend with pole andpaddle against the downfall of the united currents.Four days of hard labour placed them at the embouchureof the Pirapo into the Paranapanema.After some repose, which was much required, scoutswere sent to reconnoitre the lands reached by theBandeira. These on their return informed Matheusthat they had met with certain signs of a neighbouringIndian village tree branches cut, a want of game, andthe trail of man. Once more the chief detached spies,who were ordered carefully to examine the neighbourhood.These explorers, returning after some days, reportedthat they had found a large and important Aldeia orsettlement of catechised Indians, with a stone churchand ploughed fields, with herds of black cattle, horses,and sheep ;and with other proofs that the people werenot savage nomades.Matheus Chagas at once concluded that he wasnear the Spanish settlement of La Guayra.He was filled with joy by the thought that he haddescended the Tiete river without the loss of a manor a brush with the Pagans, and that he had safelyreached an Aldeia of the Guaranis. Here he expected,according to the reports bruited about SaoPaulo, to find immense hoards of gold and silver, whichhe could snatch from the Spaniards, even as the latterhad robbed the Portuguese under Aleixo Garcia.He at once formed his little troop into a militarycamp, and concealed it by the thickest bushes thatgrew nearest the settlement.He then made every arrangement for the assault,and he resolved to glut himself with the spoils, and tobear them off in triumph to Sao Paulo.K

CHAPTER IV.THE NOVICE'SFIRST MISFORTUNE.LORETO was the settlement that lay before the Paulistaadventurers. It was one of the last built by theJesuits, and one of the nearest to the disputed frontiersof Spain and Portugal. In 1557 the Governmentof Paraguay had founded Villa Real, at the junctionof the rivers Parana and Piquirf, and in 1577 VillaRica on the Ivahy. These villages were stocked withGentile Guaranfs. As, however, their catechesis andcivilisation prospered but slowly under the civilauthorities, the Government of the metropolis cededto the Jesuit missionaries the two Aldeias abovementioned, with authority to organise others.The Jesuits soon prospered in the work of conversion,and presently dispersed their obedient flock overthe upper regions of the Parana". To their intrepidand exclusive efforts, during the first years of theseventeenth century, Santa Maria Maior on theIguassu", Sao Francisco Xavier at the embouchure ofthe Imbiberaba, Arcanjos in Tayoba, Santo Ignacioon the Iquatemy, Sao Pedro on the Pinaes, andLoreto on the Pirajo owed their existence.These children of Saint Ignatius did not sparethemselves. Smiled upon them the idea of savingthe souls and of championing the rights and libertiesof Pagans made Catholics. They found the mostfertile of soils, cut by numerous streams, and extendingon both sides of the Parana artery, from theIguassii and the Igarey rivers to the Parandpanena

THE NOVICE'S FIRST MISFORTUNE. 37and the Pardo. Immense numbers of wild tribesbecame semi-civilised, and these communities beganto found an independent state in the heart of Portugueseand Castilian America. Thus rose the provinceof La Guayra, nominally subject to the crownof Spain, but really, as will be seen, a theocratic despotism,perhaps the most aqtively evil of all governments,whose best action is rarely for good.The Padres persuaded the Home Government toforbid the entrance of Europeans, whatever might betheir nation, lest they should corrupt the innocentsavages. At the head of each settlement was placeda " Cura," and as many Fathers and Brethren as werenecessary for its direction. The Curate was the principalauthority, civil and ecclesiastic, and, as executiveChief of the Mission, he administered the oath of obedienceto the sundry functionaries chosen amongstthe converts. Each Aldeia possessed a Corregidor, orChief of Police, and his Lieutenant, two Alcaides, aStandard-bearer, seven Administrators, a Secretary,and various Caciques or Chiefs, besides officers of themilitia corps, organised, drilled, and disciplined by thePadres. The little society was told off to its severalduties with military strictness. These applied themselvesto agriculture, which consisted of sugar-cane,mate or Paraguay tea, wheat, cotton, beans, maize,indigo and tobacco ;those worked in the farinhamills,in the smithies, at the carpenter's bench, andat other handicrafts. Thus they formed a communitywhose duties and rights were perfectly equal, being infact none ;and in the dull routine of hopeless obediencethey were permitted to make a certain progress,which soon reached its ne plus ultra.The Jesuits received, in their vast storehouses, allthe produce of the Aldeia. This material was rafteddown to Santa- Fe and Buenos Ayres, and at times itwas shipped directly to Spain, and bartered for articlesof necessity and comfort. A poll-tax of a dollar per

38 MANUEL DE MORAES.head was annually taken from each catechised savage.This sum rightfully belonged to the Home Government,but the Curas, who had charge of the statistics,defrauded the Crown by not including in their liststhose in office, minors under twenty years, and eventhe sick. The remainder, a considerable amount,was remitted to the General of the Order, resident atRome, and contributed to erect palatial buildings, andto extend far and wide the power and influence of theInstitute.At their labours, which were taskwork marked outday by day, men, women, and children were all apart ;only the married occupied the same habitations, andseparate quarters were provided for widows and bachelors,for girls and children.The Curates in the " Reductions " of La Guayrawere subject to the great Jesuit College of Asuncion,capital of Paraguay, which held authority over all thevarious nuclei of the Company settled in the valleysof La Plata and its tributaries.When Cordoba was made the Head-quarters of theOrder, the Principal, assisted by the ordinary andthree extraordinary Councillors, there took up hisresidence, and thence extended his authority throughoutSouth America. The colleges contained seminariesfor instruction, secondary as well as primary, and presentlythe Spanish Captaincies of Buenos Ayres, Paraguay,and Tucuman could number in their bosomsome three hundred Fathers and one hundred layBrothers besides a host of Novices.The Mission villages were all built on one and thesame plan. The houses, of equal size and shape,with mud walls and red-tiled roofs, were surroundedby compounds. The streets were disposed in straightlines converging to a great square ;on the right, and atthe head of the latter, stood the church, with thecampanile, the Jesuits' house, and the public magazinesjwhilst to the left were the cemetery and the

THE NOVICE'S FIRST MISFORTUNE. 39habitations of the widows and the girls, who at theearliest age were taken from their fathers and theirfamilies. The place was adorned with a tall Cross ineach corner, and with a central pillar supporting animage of the Blessed Virgin.The men wore shirts and short drawers, pouchesand cotton caps ;the women dressed in the " tapay,"long sleeveless gown, fitting close to the neck andwaist. All went barefoot, and only the Caciques andthe public functionaries were allowed to carry thestaves which symbolised their several offices. A perfectequality was maintained in garb and ornaments,as in food and labour.On Sundays the converts were taught the variousarts of war, such as the use of the sabre, the gun, thebow, and the sling, with which they threw roundstones. When drill ended, the weapons were replacedin the armoury, and the people remained without themeans of offence or defence.The Fathers taught, besides reading and writing,cyphering and instrumental music and chanting, so asto form artists for the Church festivals and the solemnitiesof the community. They found the " concordof sweet sounds " a powerful attraction to the Gentiles,who showed tolerably good taste and excessive fondnessfor the liberal art.The converts were awakened by the ringing of theChurch-bell, which announced the dawn and its prayermeeting.Prime over, all repaired to their respectivetasks, guarded by their overseers. The guilty werepunished by a tribunal composed of the village authoritiesunder the surveillance of the Cura.Thus was governed the province of La Guayraat the time when Matheus Chagas attacked it withhis Commando. The onslaught was one of the firstorganised by the filibusters of Sao Paulo upon theJesuit Missions of the Parana. Presently the invasionsbecame so frequent and so destructive, that the

40 MANUAL DE MORAES.Fathers prevailed upon their flocks to abandon theirhomes, to fall back upon the lower river, and thereto build new Reductions, less exposed to the raids oftheir Mameluco foes.We have already said that Loreto was the outlyingMission village of the Spanish dominions. It containedeight streets with a total of about two thousandsouls. The prairies around it were carefullycultivated, and showed all the signs of prosperity.Domestic animals fed in peace ;the converts livedtranquilly under the communistic rule of the Fathers ;and not a single accident had from the very beginningtroubled the perfect order of peaceful and quietLoreto.Curious to say, the Portuguese of Sao Paulo, eventhe explorers and filibusters, knew nothing of thesituation and the state of La Guayra, from the daywhen its Missions passed into the temporal, spiritual,and exclusive power of the Company. Theystill believedfirmly in the last reports that the Gentiles longedfor Portuguese aid against the Spaniards, and thatthe latter possessed stores of gold and silver, extractedwithout toil from the adjacent lands. The Castiliansin point of morals were, perhaps, no better than theheathen, except that they were somewhat less cruel.The Paulistas, however, were animated by a furioushatred, engendered partly by the rival interests ofneighbourhood in Europe and America, and partlybecause at that time their fatherland had been reducedto a province of the Spanish crown. In 1580 Philipthe Second brought it violently under his yoke, andbequeathed it to his successors, with traditions ofterror which, irritating the Lusitanian race against therule of its rival and conqueror, continually excitedthem to rise and to strike the blow for independence.The greatest inducement, then, for the Paulistas toattack the mission of La Guayra was to destroy the

THE NOVICE'S FIRST MISFORTUNE. 41Spaniards, not the converts ; yet they had no intentionof sparing the latter, nor of forfeiting the profitsto be derived from enslaving and selling their captives.Matheus Chagas, after learning from his spies thestate of Loreto, forbade his comrades to betray theirpresence by the smallest sign, and he proposed tothem an attack upon the village, which he believedto contain extraordinary wealth. All applauded theidea except Manuel de Moraes, who wished first toascertain if the intended victims were friends or foes,and thus to avoid the possibility of committing anunscrupulous crime. The filibusters scoffed at hisqualms of conscience. At length one morning, whenMatheus Chagas saw the greater part of the populationat work outside the village, and those inside itcompletely off their guard, he left some of his leastuseful men, and amongst them the Novice, to protectthe camp, and he marched off prepared to givebattle.The Commando first met upon the open plain someof the enemy, fled tofifty converts, who, at the sightthe village. They were followed by the filibusters,and all entered at the same time with an infernaldin and outcry. The indigens defended themselveswith the courage of despair, but their weapons werein the armoury ;the foe never ceased to flesh hissword, and a few hours put the Portuguese in possessionof the settlement, which was at once desertedby its owners. The sudden onslaught had terrifiedthe Fathers and the Guaranis. Much blood had beenspilt in the affray and in the pursuit, whilst many ofthe converts found themselves pinioned and barredup in their own homes. The adventurers then proceededto examine the village which they had won.In the magazines they found rations, firearms, ammunition,weapons, cloth and clothes, ardent spiritsand other valuable stores. They took from the Church,

42 MANUEL DE MORAES.lamps and chandeliers of silver, and they hailed withloud vivas the appearance of such valuable booty.But they were disagreeably surprised not to see a traceof the Spaniards, whom they supposed also to inhabitthe " Reduction."Matheus Chagas gave the strictest orders for maintainingdiscipline. He summoned from his campthose left in charge. He counted and separated thecaptives, who were for the most part old Caciques,women, and children, all powerless to fly and he; placedthe prisoners, divided into groups, under the charge ofsentinels. He then proceeded to collect the booty,and to take the strongest measures against the possibilityof desertion, and of losing the fruits of victory.Well knowing, also, the imprudence of lingering ina hostile land, and wishing to quit the village as soonas possible, he proceeded to set apart what could becarried off. But when the booty, comprising jewels,arms, clothing, animals, and prisoners, came to bedivided, all the adventurers agreed in preferring thesame article, and their rivalry nearly led them toblows. The Chief at length managed to curb theirpretensions and passions by opening a kind of lotteryfor the less valuable objects, reserving the more preciousfor distribution at Sao Paulo.Each filibuster received an almost equal share.Moraes, however, refusing to join the lottery, took ashis portion the old men, the women, and childrenwho were unable to march. He wanted none of theill-gotten gains, and he resolved to free all hisprisoners. He proceeded at once to set food beforethe wretches and to console their sorrows. Theyreceived his charity with transports of gratitude, andthey were the more thankful as they expected theworst fate from the Mamelucos of Sao Paulo, whomthe Fathers had described to them as a mixture oflust and ferocity, unsoftened by the least trace of pietyor religion.

THE NOVICE'S FIRST MISFORTUNE. 43When the adventurers had taken charge of theirspoils, Matheus Chagas prepared to evacuate thevillage. The Paulista Commando beganits homewardmarch before the red light appeared in theeast. The armed men led the van, in the centre andsurrounded by guards were bands of pinioned captives,and in the rear came horses and laden beastsunder protection of the Mamelucos.They had not left the village before loud and prolongedsounds were heard, and presently numerousfires broke out in the suburbs of the settlement.The conflagration increased, and a thick cloud ofsmoke filled the air, which was graduallylitup by the.furious flames. It became bright as day, whilst theatmosphere waxed every moment heavier and warmer.The adventurers were startled ;none knew whethermere chance or the design of the converts had causedthe danger which threatened them. They hastenedto quit the village, when Matheus Chagas warnedthem to beware of ambuscades.The flames were spread far and wide by a stiffnorther. Horribly illuminated were the village, theprairie, and the forest. Frightful noises thunderedin the air like a concert of fiends. The roofs andentrances of the houses burst open; huge fragmentsof masonry, loose tiles, and smoking walls were dashedto earth. The streets were choked with ruins, andthe adventurers had immense labour in extricatingthemselves.Some of the Mamelucos already spread themselvesoutside the village,and the rearguard was still strugglingto escape the danger and to join those whopreceded it.But whilst the flames litup the ruins and wrappedthe upper horizon in sable clouds, loud shouts andwhistlings from afar increased the panic producedby the fire and the terrified ;eyes of the Paulistas fellupon armed masses of Guaranfs, some hastening in

44 MANUEL DE MORAES.front, others closing upon the flanks, and others againhurrying to the rear, till every road was cut off.Then began a melee without order, command, ordiscipline. The adventurers understood, when toolate, that they had allowed the enemy to enter thevillage at night, and thus to co-operate with thoserushing to its relief. Each man fought as best hecould, without being able to guess the number of hisenemies or to divine the result of the combat. Theirranks were thinned by the bullet, the arrow, andthe sling-stone their ears were stunned; by the fireand the clamour of the foe; their comrades werewounded, their friends were killed, afar and near,before, behind, and on both sides. Felling blows ofheavy clubs, the sharp cutting of the sword-blade, andstabbings with knife and dagger followed the firstattack, and ended in a system of duels corps acorps, man to man, the most cruel and deadlyof allstruggles.It was a terrible spectacle, litup at times by theroaring flames that devoured the village, and whichcaused the settlement to shudder as with torture ;groans and cries, shrieks and shouts, re-echoed loudlythe clang and clashing of the sword and the rollingand reverberation of the musketry. The fugitivestripped and stumbled over the bodies of the live andthe dead. The ways were choked with loaded horsesand mules. Portuguese and Mamelucos, Carijos andGuaranfs, knifed one another, almost without knowingtheir victims. The struggle lasted till Aurora smiledher rays and litup with their white lightall thefirmament.Then lay disclosed a terrible scene of destruction.From the innermost streets of the village to no smalldistance in the neighbouring prairie, where the adventurers'vanguard had extended, the ground was spreadwith carcases of man and beast, with scattered loads,arms, and lost booty, all dripping with blood and

THE NOVICE'S FIRST MISFORTUNE. 45blackened by flakes of burning substances, which,whirling through the air, fell upon those whom thecombat had disabled.Few of the filibusters succeeded in saving themselvesby flight the; greater part lay dead upon thefield of battle ;rare were the prisoners, and thesewere all more or less severely wounded : the Guaranishad conquered, and had revenged the affront putupon them. Their authorities took measures to endthe struggle, and to save what they could of thevillage by quenching the fire ;they collected theobjects snatched from the grasp of the enemy ; theyrestored order to the people, and they superintendedthe burial of those who had fallen. Many on bothsides were found stark dead. Matheus Chagas, Antonioda Costa, and several notable adventurers losttheir lives ; and, lastly, four or five wounded Paulistaswere taken from amongst the slain and lodged in jail.Manuel de Moares was one of these unfortunates.He had received an arrow-wound in the arm, and hisleg was pierced by a ball the ; danger was not great,but his sufferings were long and acute.The captives were committed to those in charge ofthe Hospitals for treatment and surveillance tilltheycould be tried for their crime. When Moraes wasrestored to health, he learned with grief and a sinkingheart that his companions in misfortune had alldied of their wounds,

CHAPTER VTHE NOVICE'SSECOND MISFORTUNE.THE trial of Manuel de Moraes soon ended. SundryCaciques and women gave evidence in his favour, andrecounted his humane conduct during the days whenthe Paulistas occupied the village. Such testimony,together with the dress which attached him to theCompany of Jesus, had its due effect ;the tribunalbefore which he appeared sentenced him to banishmentfrom the Reduction, and to be placed in thehands of the Provincial at Santa-Fe. The latter wascharged with the duty of imposing the penance properfor one who in his noviciate had abandoned the holyInstitute of St. Ignatius, and had enlisted under thefilibustering flag of the Paulistas.Accompanied by armed Guaranis, Moraes was transportedby land to Villa Rica, distant not less thanseventy leagues from Loreto. Here the Fathers ofthe College kept him confined for more than twomonths, awaiting the rafts which were being madeready to transport the articles most in demand atVilla Real. This done, he embarked under thecharge of Cialdini, a lay Brother of the Company,with a crew of thirty Guaranis, who acted as guardsand boatmen.The little flotilla, laden with the exports of theReductions, descended the river Ivahy between itsavenues of forest giants, entered the Parana, and,presently reaching the Great Island, was towed up themouth of the Piquirf. At last it safely made VillaReal, which reposed softly upon the margin of the

1THE NOVICE'S SECOND MISFORTUNE. 47waters, and which represented the most important andpopulous Reduction built by the Jesuits of La Guayra.The rafts could descend the Parana no farther ;thegigantic rapids known as the Sete Quedos, or SevenFalls, began immediatelyNo below.sight in nature, however grand or graceful,more delighted the traveller's eyes than this mightyscene. The Parana here forks to embrace a spaciousisland, whose dense and sombre forests contrast admirablywith the transparent green of the waters andthe white flashing of the foam. After their fall thepowerful masses of the liquid element reunited, andpresented a breadth of more than two thousandfathoms. Thence the bed contracted and the gorgedeepened, while the roar and the reverberation becameterribly sublime. The least breadth of thecanon did not exceed forty cubits, and a fall of fourhundred palms precipitated the torrent into a stupendouskieve or basin, which formed a lake almost twomiles in diameter.The noise of the rapids extended to eight leagues ;a cloud of water-dust hung high poised above the fal ,forming, under the sunshine, rainbows whose peculiarand fragile beauty tempered and softened the ruggedpower and sublimity of the scene.The vast basin, crowned with phosphorescent andopaline fragments of mist, was dotted over with manyan islet, whose gigantic trees animated the view ofstrife and tumult with the charms of life and fertility.From that spot the waters poured anew over sevenconsecutive steps, hurrying along the puma and theounce, the ant-eater, the dreadful boa, and all mannerof animals that had taken refuge in the upper islandsduring the dries, and which had neither time norstrength to escape by swimming. The waters withhollow thunder, repeated by the groaning echoes, wereengulfed in a second crater, whose barriers of rockypeaks seemed, like the Titans of old, to threaten the

4 3 MANUEL DE MORAES.skies : the reflection of the sun athwart the glancingwater-smoke fellupon the polished sides of the gorgein sudden showers of light, which by day seemed theplaying of sheet-lightning, whilst in the obscurity ofnight they appeared to be vast walls built of the whiteststone.It was vain for man's voice to speak there : thepuny accents were drowned in the monstrous but majesticcataract, the word of commandgiven by eternal Nature herself.For more than three months Moraes sojourned atVilla Real, employed by his Father Directors in theservice of the church and of things sacred. Not theless persistently, however, did he refuse to rejoin theInstitute of St. Ignatius, though his heart was ladenwith the most grateful and regretful memories of thewelcome which he had received, of the instructionwhich he had obtained, and of the friendships whichhe had won.He then set out by land, with a large caravan ofIndians and loaded beasts, to the village of SantaMaria Maior, built almost at the embouchure wherethe Sao Francisco is absorbed by the Parana belowthe "Seven Falls." Here, as the navigation had lostits perils, all embarked in new rafts for Santa-Fe.Moraes, though permitted the society of Father Cialdini,whose edifying discourses soon gained his sympathy,was as strictly guarded as he had been atLoreto.About a month was spent in descending the Paranato the Tres Barras, the " Three Mouths," where it receivesthe waters of the Paraguay and its influents thePilcomayo and the Bermejo.Manuel de Moraes was thrown into ecstasies bythese varied and sublime scenes, and especially by thedazzle and the glamour of the magnificent stream.On either side were virgin forests, loftiest domes ofgreen, which proved the infinite fertility of the soil ;

THE NOVICE'S SECOND MISFORTUNE. 49mighty rivers which added themselves to the Parana,already itself a sea ;birds of every size and shapeand hue, the ibis, the toucan, the spoonbill, andgiant cranes, that bellowed as they fled from the plashingof the oar into the black recesses of the splendidwoodlands; and huge caymans, basking upon thesunny sands, and plunging when disturbed into thevasty deeps, their homes and their castles.Yet more delicious than the clear and limpid dayswere the nights spent on the bosom of these solitaryEdens. What pictures of soft and tender beauty weredisclosed when the pale rays of the moon, piercingwith shafts of light the thick foliage of the avenuedtrees overhanging the waters, glittered upon the phosphorescentsurface, forming a mosaic work of silverand gold, and litup the reflection of a horizon, whosevoluptuous and undulating contours were drawn witha master's touch upon the liquid ground !They passed many a site then desert and unexplored,but presently to be occupied by new JesuitMissions, when the old should be no longer tenable.Still on both sides are to be seen the ruins of CorpusChristi, Candellaria, Itaqui, Santa Clara, Trinidad,San Cosmo, and others, which owed their existenceto the Paulista ravagers of Northern La Guayra. Butwhen our hero looked upon them, they were but thelairs and the asylums of wild beasts.The voyagers soon made Santa-Fe, where Moraeswas received with paternal kindness by the Provincialof the Institute. This good Father enjoined uponhim such penances and serious meditations as mightdecide a return to his vocation, when the Company,forgetting all his shortcomings, would receive himwith open arms. But despite exhortations, advice,and three years' compulsory residence in the convent,Manuel persisted in keeping firm to his purpose. TheFathers then resolved upon sending him throughSpain to Rome, hoping that the General of the Com-

50 MANUEL DE MORAES.pany would be more successful, and that the Institutewould not lose a youth whose varied talents and solidlearning were evident to all who conversed with him.Manuel left Santa-Fe for Buenos Ayres in a launchwhich plied regularly between the two ports of theParana" and the Plata. He lived in the house of theCompany whilst a convoy was being prepared 'for afleet of merchantmen sailing to Cadiz :they wereescorted by two Spanish brigantines of war, especiallycharged to defend them against the squadrons andprivateers of the Netherlands, who then infested theseseas.A violent Pampero aided the voyagers by drivingthem out of the dangerous waters of the Rio de la Platainto the bosom of the Atlantic. Here Moraes againfound himself in front of another portent of Nature,the ocean ; immense, profound, tranquil, or agitatedaccording to the crises of the currents and the will ofthe winds. The virgin forest, the wild unnavigableriver, the savage beast, the stupendous cataract, thepicturesque homestead, the vast prairie, and the loftymountain such were the features of the Americandesert, a wonder of nature, in which the beautiful,the sublime, the varied, and the infinite were all harmoniouslyblended without the aid of art Now hecontrasted with these majestic scenes the ocean,which could groan like the wind-wrung woods, whichcould foam like the basin of the cataract, which couldroar and rage like the jaguar and the Surucucii serpent,and which could change place and colour, formand physiognomy, rapidly as the varying atmospherewhich we things of earth inhale.Before the first breath of the south-east trade theships rapidly made northing, although the swiftest wereobliged to await from time to time those that laggedbehind, number and union being their chief defenceagainst pirates and enemies. Sailing together like afleet, and constantly exchanging signals with the two

THE NOVICE'S SECOND MISFORTUNE. 51escorting brigantines, they had reached the latitude ofFernando de Noronha, when strange sails were seenat a distance dotting the horizon. This unexpectedaccident disturbed not a little the spirits of thevoyagers. Could they be enemies ? Would notreconnoitring them lead to greater danger? Andyet to fly them, would it not show fear and act as aninducement for foes to follow ?The brigantines hailed one another, and a Council ofWar was held on board. As usual, the Chiefs resolvednot to fight, but to clap all sailupon their convoy, andto hurry away from the danger as fast as possible.Unfortunately the suspected craft wore to windward ;they perceived the manoeuvre, and they hastened togive chase. The fastest sailers amongst the merchantmenescaped, hidden by the bosom of the ocean andby the immensity of the firmament. The less fortunatefell victims ; amongst the latter was the galleonSanto Ambrosio, which carried Manuel de Moraes.As the unknown ships approached they hoisted thecolours of the High and Mighty Lords the States-General, and displayed broadsides which completedthe discomfiture of the Spaniards. The latter wereeasily persuaded by a few warning shots to bring-toand to prepare for being boarded. The captain ofthe Santo Ambrosio thought to escape by slinkingaway, after firing upon the assailant with his twogrape-loaded guns. At this signal others of theconvoy followed his example. But the Hollanders,though only eight of their ships were right well mannedand armed, did not keep silence with their cannon.Puffs of white smoke, cloven by tongues of fire, andthe roar of artillery, took the place of air. The SantoAmbrosio was pooped between wind and water, andher captain, in order to prevent sinking, was obligedto haul down his flag.The Netherlanders, sighting the signal,came upintheir launches to take possession of the prize. ButL

52 MANUEL DE MORAES.before they could reach it a fire broke out in the foremagazine, and the wretched crew had the fatal andhorrible choice of being burnt, or drowned by thewaters which rushed like a torrent through the leak.The air resounded with shrieks of despair, with heartrendinggroans, and with piercing cries for pity andassistance. An infernal anarchy reigned on board;no one commanded, none obeyed. Some cast themselvesrecklessly into the waves, trusting more to themthan to the inside of the ship ;others leapt into thegigs that were slung to the davits alongside, cut thelashings, and committed themselves to fate. Not afew, seizing benches and planks, dropped overboard,careless where wind and tide might bear them.The Dutch launches succeeded in saving several ofthese unfortunates, though many more, engulfed bythe waters, perished in the agonies of despair. Amongstthose who escaped was Manuel de Moraes. But theSanto Ambrosio was not destined to reward the victors ;in an incredibly short time she became the prize of theflames and the billows.The audacious Batavians made up for the loss byseizing others of the convoy, which found no means ofescape and; they noisily applauded their own featsand triumph.Henry Lonq 1 was the captain of the squadron whichhad fallen in with this good fortune. He was a gallantmariner, who, succeeding in 1630 Willekens, PieterHeyn, and Pater, swept the sea of Spanish and Portuguesecruisers and traders, caused unheard-of losses,seized a vast number of hostile galleons, and spread theterror of his name far and wide over the ocean. Heat once ordered the useless craft to be burned, and the1In Dutch the name is written " Hendrick Loncq." ThePortuguese simplified the unpronounceable Batavian names, asPiet, Adrian, Vanderburg, and Scop for Pieterszoon, Adriensz,Wardenborch or Weerdenburgh, and Schkoppe. TranslatorsNote.

THE NOVICE'S SECOND MISFORTUNE. 53valuable prizes to be carried into Recife, and to beplaced in the hands of the authorities who administeredthe Netherlander Government of the Brazil. Of theten captured, only four remained seaworthy, and tothem were transferred, with a guard of Dutchmen, thecargoes and the prisoners taken out of the others.Then was seen a melancholy spectacle, heartrendingfor those unaccustomed to such reverses : the six condemnedcraft were fired, and they sank in the midstof roaring, crackling flames and the loud hurrahs ofthe Hollanders, who delighted to witness the work ofdestruction.When the captain's orders were carried out, thefour galleons made sail for Pernambuco, and soonentering the port of Recife (the Reef), they reportedthemselves to the Court of Directors of the DutchWest Indian Company. All the prisoners having beenplundered of their property, were cast loose to makea livelihood as they best could.It was the year of grace 1632 when Manuel deMoraes thus found himself thrown upon a hostilestrand.The free world to which he had aspired openeditself to him under the most inauspicious conditions.The morn of life broke with a sickly light throughclouds of bitterness, pain, and grief; and thus sorelyand sorrowfully began his pilgrimage since the daywhen caprice or the undefined longings of the soulhad torn him from the peace and innocence of thecloister to endure the endless vicissitudes and themisfortunes which his unhappy destiny had preparedfor him.

CHAPTER VI.BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS.In 1580, Portugal, overwhelmed by the hosts of theDuke of Alva, and betrayed by her national degeneracy,had become, at the Cortes of Thomar, amere province of Spain: from that time the Philips ofCastile had taken pride in trampling her under theirfeet, and in overwhelming amidst misery and degradationher memories of past glories and of heroicdeeds.The Hollanders, who had won their independencefrom Spain, thought only of snatching away the Transatlanticpossessions, of seizing the colonies, and ofannihilating the maritime commerce of their ancientmistress.They held as Spanish all the regions in Asia, Africa,and America, which had belonged to independentPortugal and, excited by the hope of plunder, theydid not spare those wealthy lands. In 1651 the variouscities of the Low Countries raised a strong andwell-monied company, afterwards entitled "of theWest Indies," with the view of extending their conquestsinto the New World. Their High Mightinesses,the States General of the United Provinces, approvedof the statutes passed by the body, and gaveit fullright of invading, occupying, and enjoying whateverconquests it might make, for the space of thirty yearsdating from 1624. After that time it was bound totransfer all its possessions to Government, and to receiveas an indemnity the value of its munitions of

BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS. 55war, of its fleets, and of the various establishmentswhich itmight have founded.An issue of shares in Holland soon produced therequired capital.The State contributed as subvention a million offlorins 1 and a fleet of twenty ships of war, on conditionof receiving half the clear profits of the enterprize.The Board or Court of Directors, composedof the Stadtholder of Holland as president, and witheighteen members chosen by the municipalities andthe shareholders of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Groningen,Zealand, and Friesland, resided alternately in thefirst-named city and at Middleberg.This high body had charge of the political andinternal administration of the Company, thus makingit a peculiar and independent state within a state ;from which came orders for the levying of troops andthe annexation of territory.The Dutch West Indian Company attempted toinaugurate its rule in Portuguese America by seizingthe Bahia de Todos os Santos, and on May 8, 1624,it had carried the City and captured the Governor,Diogo de Mendonga Furtado. But the conquest waslost next year. The invader was compelled to decampby the armed masses that had mustered in theReconcave, or Bay of the Captaincy he was besieged:within the limits of his capital, and presently a Spanisharmada, commanded by Don Fradique de Toledo,closely blockaded him by sea. Yet the stout-heartedNorthmen did not despair. Reinforcements weresent to the Brazil in 1630, and Colonel Weerdenburgh,with 3000 men and two guns, effected alanding at Pao Amarello, three or four leagues to thenorth ;crossed the Rio Doce, fell upon Olinda, thefair capital of Pernambuco and, having seized itby a .coup de main^ duly sacked The it. gallant Ma-sou-.1Then worth one shilling and eightpence, or two francs tenTranslator" 1 s Note,

56 MANUEL DE MORAES.thias de Albuquerque, Governor of the Captaincy,who had only twenty-seven men of reinforcementsfrom Portugal, was driven from the Porto do Recifethe latter being attacked by land and cannonaded bysea to take refuge in the interior. After burning hismagazines and the ships in port, he fell back uponthe mainland, and established his head-quarters atthe Arraial, or fortified village, do Bom Jesus, on theother side of the Capibaribe river.Little by little the Hollanders spread themselvesover Pernambuco. They were heroically opposedby those born in the land, and by the Portuguesecolonists under the valiant commandant, Mathias deAlbuquerque, and by the friendly Redskins, whom theIndian Phelipe Camarao, or Poty (the Shrimp), boldlyled to the field. The glorious fort of Sao Jorge wasburned down ;the heroic village do Bom Jesus wasrazed to the ground; and fair Olinda was reduced toashes. The Company continued its career of conquest,and both Brazilians and Portuguese retirednorthward and southward, abandoning to the Dutchthose territories which they had invaded. The StatesGeneral also did not neglect to send out ample suppliesof soldiers and warlike gear, and to appointbrave and active officers to the several commands.And perhaps the liberality of this proceeding, so rareand so exceptional amongst conquerors and colonistsin those times, contributed not a little to reconcilethe Brazilian Creoles to the rule of heretics andinfidels.The " irreconcilables " of the land, who could notor who did not succeed in escaping, perforce bentthe neck to the Hollander's yoke. The Court ofDirectors had forbidden public worship in the Catholicchurches, which were converted into Protestantchapels, and with difficulty they permitted mass to becelebrated in the open spaces and fields, under thesun of heaven and in the air of liberty. But after-

BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS. 57wards commerce was monopolised by the intruder," heretic on enemy and privateer on heretic ;" and thePortuguese had no occupation left to them but to tillthe ground and to sell fruit and vegetables.Such was the condition of the Recife when Manuelde Moraes landed there and sought some means ofsubsistence for himself. The settlement was dividedinto three distinct quarters. The stores, arsenals,business houses, and principal habitations, official andprivate, occupied the land-tongue, where the Capibaribe,joined by the Biberibe river, flows into theAtlantic. The second quarter overspread the Ilhade Antonio Vaz, formerly a desert and swampy islet,or rather a peninsula formed by the many arms ofthe former stream. Beyond the Capibaribe andthe Biberibe the suburbs extended inland, withoutbridges 1 to connect them with the island, or evenwith the port. The streams were crossed in canoesand rafts ;thus also were transported the sugars andbrandies made in the interior, and sent to the Company'sagents, who bought them at a tariff fixed bythemselves.Moraes saw at once that of scanty use to himwould be the education which he had received in theJesuit Institute of Sao Paolo, or the precious giftsof intelligence which Providence had bestowed uponhim. Evidently nothing but manual labour wouldhere furnish the means of life. He resolved to beginwithout delay, and he hired himself as a field-handto a Portuguese who held land on the left bank ofthe Biberibe.Days, months, and years lagged on without hisfinding the means to better his destitute condition.In 1636 the Company had substituted for the variousChiefs and Generals of the Court of Directors, Johann1The Dutch built two bridges, one from the Recife to theAntonio Vaz, and the other from the latter to the mainland,then called Schoonzigt, now Boa Vista. Translator's Note.

58 MANUEL DE MORAES.Moritz von Nassau Siegens, popularly known as Count.Maurice of Nassau ;and no sooner had the lattertaken the reins of government than the whole Dutchcolony seemed to borrow new life. Southwards thefrontiers were extended even beyond the great Rio1de Sao Francisco, and northwards almost to theMaranhao. Nassau was a beneficent monarch. Topromote the study of the country, he brought withhim naturalists like Piso of Leyden and the famousGerman Marcgrave, historians like Caspar Barle,literati like Plante, architects like the brothers Post,and artists of the Flemish school who had gained aname in Europe. By his persuasion the Companyopened free trade to Netherlanders generally, keepingup monopoly only in certain hands, so as to enrichthe colony of Recife. He prosecuted corruptfunctionaries. He restored order to the finances.He improved the public administration. He reorganisedthe military. He put an end to the arbitraryabuses of the subaltern authorities. He permittedthe Jews to build synagogues, and thePortuguese to attend their churches and solemnprocessions. He founded schools for the heathen.He restored fugitive slaves to their proprietors, oncondition that the latter should swear fealty to hisGovernment He built forts at Penedo in the SaoFrancisco river, at Porto Calvo, in the Isle ofAntonio Vaz ;and at many other strategical points.In the head-quarter island he traced the streets of anew City, and laid out for himself a palace namedVrigburg (" the place of repose"), with towers at thewings, and with an observatory byits side. It wasconnected with Recife by a bridge that spanned theunited waters of the Capibaribe and the Biben'be. Hecalled the new city Mauritia, and it soon became richin buildings and grounds. His liberal rule presently1For a full description of this river see my "Highlands ofthe Brazil.'' Tinsleys, London, 1869. 7ranslato> 's A olc.

BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS. 59attracted a host of Brazilians, who no longer fearedthe invader's hostility. Not a few of them acceptedthe yoke of Holland, including Joao FernandezVieira, who had been one of the bravest defendersof Fort Sao Jorge, and who had accompanied Albuquerqueto the Arraial of Bom Jesus. This Guerilla-Chief preferred a quiet industrious life, and becamea financial agent to the Company.One evening Manuel de Moraes was working onthe river-bank, when loud cries drew his attention tothe island of Antonio Vaz. The outcry came from twohorsemen following at full gallop a lady, who rapidlydistanced them in her wild flight. Still they wereafar, and the cause of their outcries was not evident.Presently Manuel perceived with terror thatthe foremost horse was running away with its rider,who kept her seat with difficulty, and that she wasin imminent danger unless some strong arm arrestitsheadlong career.To witness the scene and to rush to the rescue werewith Moraes the work of an instant. It would havebeen mere loss of time to have canoed across thestream, nor was any canoe at hand. Though thetide ran strong, the Novice did not hesitate, habited ashe was, to plunge into the depths. In a few momentshe had swum from terra-firma to the island. Heawaited the passing of the horse, threw himself uponthe animal's bridle, and with a grasp of iron, reinedit back uponits haunches. The beast snorted andreared violently, but its spiritwas soon broken, andit became helpless and trembling with fear. Moraesdrew the rider from the saddle, and placed her faintingupon the ground. Whilst he was restoring her toher senses with encouraging words, the two cavalierscame up. One of them was an aged Hollander,Wilhelm Brodechevius, a member of Council, a friendof Count Maurice, and an important personage inthe Company. He warmly clasped the hand that

60 MANUEL DE MORAES.had saved his daughter, asked Moraes his name, hisprofession and his abode, and promised never to forgethis heavy debt of gratitude. By degrees the girlrecovered life, and, asking to see the man who hadsaved her from destruction, expressed her admirationof and gratitude for his courage and kindness.Assistance was now at hand, and the people broughta litter in which Beatrix was carried home, whilstManuel proceeded to his pauper quarters. Eitherthe excitement of the moment or the wet clothingwhich he had worn so long banished sleep from hiseyelids, and during the night he suffered all thetortures of a violent burning fever. Gloomy andwretched hours, without a friendly hand or voice tonurse or cheer the sick man, were those that passedtillday broke and the warm rays of the sun lit upthe windows of his hovel.He attempted to rise, but felt an inexpressibleweakness. He waited resignedtill the increasingwarmth should restore his strength, when he heard aknock at the door and the greetings of a kindly butunknown voice. With difficulty he arose and withdrewthe rusty bolt, at once returning to the paupercot which acted as bed.His visitor was the old Netherlander, whose daughterthe invalid had saved. Manuel could hardly answerhis questions ;and Brodechevius, leaving a slave towait upon him, with money and many instructions totake care of him, hurried away to call a physician.Returning home, he was questioned by his daughter,who would not hear of her preserver being nursed byany one but herself; and who determined to repayhim to health under her father'sher lifeby restoringroof. Brodichevius could refuse her nothing. Beatrixwas the only pledge of love bequeathed to him by thebest of wives, and she had fullpower over his heart.Broken in spirit by his bereavement, he had quittedAmsterdam as a member of Council to the West

Indian Company ;BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS. 61he had then established himself atRecife, and there he existed only for the girl, surroundingher happy, fresh, young life with all thepleasure and luxury which the fondness of a fathercan suggest.The result was that Manuel was borne away in alitter, and presently found himself comfortably installedin the house of Brodechevius, where a physiciantook his case in hand. The fever assumed amalignant type and dangerous proportions. Beatrixoften visited the invalid; at times insisting, whenMoraes was deaf to the nurse, upon his taking theremedies prescribed ; and, encouraging him with softwords, sweet voice, and sympathetic looks, she appearedan angel who stood by his pillow and guidedhis will.Beatrix, then aged twenty, was tall and graceful asthe girls of her country ;her long blonde hair ripplingover a broad pure brow, announced her NorthEuropean origin. Large blue eyes and regular featuresset in a perfect oval, lips and chin somewhatfull, a complexion of clearest white and rose, and acalm retired expression, made the character of herbeauty rather more stately than is consistent withfeminine softness and delicacy. Like the Sea-queensof old whom the Church converted to saints, graciousin their dignity as commanding of presence, theseriousness of her demeanour imposed more respectthan inspired love. She had little of the Southernsweetness which characterises the women of Raphaeland Murillo ;her face and figure suggested rather theidea of the majestic priestesses as fancy paints themamongst the ancient Gauls. Her blue eyes neverwore the humid expression of love, much less werethey lit up by the light of passion but there was;something in their look which said, that if everBeatrix yielded her heart to the keeping of a lover,her attachment would rise to the dignity of perfect

62 MANUEL DE MORAES.devotion, of life-long constancy. Moraes soon yieldedhimself to the directions of his hostess, and learnedfor the first time in his life the might and power of awoman who can bend the will, and who can convertthe admirer into the submissive slave. He felt restoredto health when he fixed his eyes upon the fairpresence in her absence;he lost heart and strength,as though she carried away with her the light of hislife.Already his heart whispered that Beatrix wasnecessary to his existence, and by slow degrees aviolent passion, mastering every faculty, ruled hisheart and head, his body and soul.Nor less did the girl admire the graceful ways ofher young patient; his manners, which were thoseof Nature's Nobility ;the interesting and picturesquelanguage, showing an education far above his presentcalling; the generous thoughts, which little suitedthe lowness of his present condition, and the purityof morals and religion that proclaimed the innocenceof his soul and the virginity of an uncorrupted heart.But what in him from the beginning was the headlongpassion of love commenced in Beatrix with thesympathy restrained by reason. Manuel's bosomboiled over with fiery maddening thoughts, whichbrought with them as much pain as pleasure. Thegirl was attached by a sentiment of affection, whichonly did justice to the admirable qualities, the manyintellectual and moral gifts of her preserver. Hergentle virginal fondness passed from her brain to herbosom, where itgrew in warmth, and lastly it workeditsway into her heart, like the drops which hollow outthe hardest stone. Thus with slow steps, and, wemight almost say, with a reasonable and philosophicprogress, her appreciation took the form of friendship,and friendship the guise of love ;each phase beingaccompanied by a corresponding change of thenatural and physical sentiments, till the latter assertedtheir full and complete ascendancy.

BEATRIX BRODECHEVIUS. 63During three months, the illness which prostratedMoraes endured, with alternate gain and loss ofstrength, till he found himself completely convalescent.The time was enough to arouse and to fixin both the young hearts that mutual feeling whichbound them together once and for eternity.Moraes had shown himself a man of rare merits,condemned only by blind fate to labours unworthy ofhis education and intelligence, and Brodechevius lostno time in obtaining for him a suitable employmentwith the Dutch West Indian Company. He wasthus enabled to leave his hovel and to establish himselfdecently at Recife. The old man, without suspectingthe secrets of his protege's heart, opened tohim his house, and continued to lavish upon him allthe marks of the truest esteem. His daily intercoursewith Beatrix only served to increase the love whichhe delighted to nourish, and softened towards himmore and more the girl's heart, till both learned todrain with long draughts the delightful idea of possession.Meanwhile, Moraes found himself broughtinto close relations with important personages ofthe Company, and he accustomed himself to thestrict and puritanical ways of the many distinguishedNetherlander. All were devotedly and by convictionattached to their Calvinistic worship, and beyond itthey dedicated themselves only to the domestic virtuesand to the pure and lovely pleasures of home.But his lofty and independent spirit strove againstthe forced and heavy discipline of the Reformed Faith.His studies of Catholic dogmas had not silenced hisreason, although he himself had desired it in orderthat all his scruples might give way before the beliefin Romish orthodoxy. But now he adhered to hiscreed less from conviction than by instinct and habit ;and his soul was beset with doubts till he could nolonger distinguish in religion anything but the systematictheory and practice of virtue and morality.

64 MANUEL DE MORAES.Finally, comparing the Hollanders of Recife with thePortuguese of Sao Paulo, he held the Protestants tobe more earnest men, and more deeply imbued withthe spirit of their cult than the Catholics.These fatal thoughts led by degrees to a spiritualindifference, a cruel and destroying scepticism, whichweakened and relaxed every fibre of his soul. Mightnot also mundane love have served to produce thisunhappy state, and to detach him from the pure andholy religion of Rome, which of all Christian creedsspeaks most to man concerning Eternal Life, and showshim most carefully the nothingness of the creature inpresence of the Creator, the Supreme Author of theworld ?

65CHAPTER VII.BEATRIX AND THE NOVICE LEAVE SOUTH AMERICA.SWIFTLY and happily the days of Manuel de Moraesran by. He applied himself to the duties of hiscalling. He studied the arts and the letters of a newland. His liveliest pleasures were in the contemplationof his love, when heart and soul were whelmedin a tide of ineffable delight.The lovers had not opened to each other thesecrets of their breasts, nor had words betrayed theirpassionate longings. Yet each perfectly understoodthe other's thoughts, for eye flamed back its answer toeye, and the most trivial conversation bore the burdenof intimate sentiment.We have already observed that Manuel's love wasof a far more Southern and physical type, which commandedhim through the material senses, subjugatedhim by its very nature, and belonged to earth and tothe region of reality ;it was therefore frail and inconstantas man. But the affection of Beatrix seemed tobe the longing of soul for soul, however clogged bymortal clay. The girl's feeling was the deeper, becauseit was the fruit of reason and conviction, ripenedby the instincts of her nature, whilst itspure and holyinspiration crowned her soul with a heavenly aureole.Yet not one, but both loved truly and fondly as theirseveral natures permitted, and the strength of mutualsentiment drew them together without one thought ofthe obstacles which beset their path.Meanwhile, Count Maurice had raised a strong

66 MANUEL DE MORAES.force, intending to spread Batavian rule over thesouthern continent. In May 1637, he embarkedthree thousand and two hundred Dutchmen, accompaniedby a thousand Redskins, upon a fleet of thirtytwowarships ;and the armada sailed with orders toattack that most important position, the Bahia de SaoSalvador.The fleet, entering the great and picturesque bay,landed a strong force and made a violent assault, whilstthe citizens defended themselves with the utmost gallantry.The invader stormed the works known asthe Alberto, Filippe, Bartholomeu, and Rosario ;butattempting to carry the carefully fortified convent ofthe barefooted Carmelites, he was so doughtily metthat perforce he fell back. After losing at least elevenhundred men, he saw that the siege must be raisedunless all would perish. Thus foiled, the famousflotilla returned to Recife. Its disastrous failure causedthe deepest disappointment to the Prince-Count, yet,with the tenacity of his Northern spirit, he thoughtonly of collecting a still stronger force. Throughouthis career, indeed, he never lost the hope ofannexing the Captaincy of Bahia to those possessionson the South American continent which were thenentitled Netherlander, in contradistinction to what wasstillPortuguese, Brazil.In the States, however, the Prince-Count was opposedby his inveterate enemy Artichfsky, 1 a Polishgeneral who had been military governor of Pernambucobefore the Company had placedit underMaurice of Nassau. A valiant soldier, highly distinguishedduring the firstoccupation of the country,he had retired from Recife upon the arrival of hissuccessor ;he retained the best of reputations inHolland, and he lost no opportunity of revenginghimself for the slight thus offered to his services, and1This is the orthography of the original. Translator's Note,

THEY LEAVE SOUTH AMERICA. 67for the injustice which had ousted him in favour ofa rival.The last terrible disaster enabled this plottingsoldier to appear as the Prince's opponent before theCourt of Directors at Amsterdam. He easily persuadedthem to make him Commander-in-Chief of thearmy, with the rank of Master-General of artillery,whilst his superior retained only the civil and theadministrative authority. And having taken chargeof his appointment, he kept up regular intercoursewith Holland, openly blaming the conduct of CountMaurice, whilst at Pernambuco he pretended to actindependently of, and, as it were, above the higherauthority of the civil power.Maurice of Nassau, exasperated by the conduct ofArtichfsky, assembled his private and political council,pointed out to it the impossibility of a colony beinggoverned by two independent and dissident chiefsând announced his intention of yielding up the Commandand of returning home. Those high officials,however, fully appreciating the Prince's administrativecapacity, then and there unanimously agreed to exerttheir extraordinary privileges by deporting to Hollandthe wily Pole, with due explanation of the motiveswhich had induced them to take this abnormal andextreme step.Artichfsky being compelled to depart, the Princeremained master of the situation. But our prudentand far-seeing Brodechevius was convinced that theintrigues of the Pole would end in his rival's recall,and, in such case, he was convinced that the concentratedhate of the country people would presentlyburst out in a struggle for life and death which wouldexpel the arms of Holland from the American continent.Dutch Brazil had, indeed, remained tranquilunder the moderation, the experience, and the justiceof Prince Maurice's rule :any deviation from thispath would evidently lead it to perdition.M

68 MANUEL DE MORAES.Brodechevius having resolved to return to Amsterdamwith all his household, and that, too, by the firstfleet, confided the plan to his daughter and bade hermake all preparations. Beatrix received the tidingswith grief and bitterness, yet she did not oppose herfather's project. She became more reserved withManuel de Moraes, and at the same time she con^cealed from him her motive. But this new phasecould not escape the lover's eye, and he tormentedhimself with doubts and questions. Was she wearyingof the affection which she must have perceived,although words had not declared it ? What could havecaused the change ? And even supposing the calculatedbut melancholy and pensive coldness to arise fromsecret suffering, whence could it have originated ?Vainly did Moraes attempt to tear the veil whichconcealed the girl's sorrow, whilst her ever-increasingreserve weighed heavily upon his heart. The daysbecame dark and sombre after so many of light andsunshine, perfumed by love and beautified with blissfulreveries and delicious dreams.Manuel resolved to take a daring step his ; pasthappiness, indeed, rendered the present changeinsupportable.He felt that an explanation was nownecessary, whatever might be itsA results.something unknown had silenced the mutelanguage which expressed their mutual feelings evidentlyit was best to bare his heart before Beatrix,;and loyally to declare his love, to trust the lips withthat which the eyes had more eloquently told. Hewas often alone with the girl,and thus the chance wasnot wanting. Steeling himself to the task, he askedher boldly and openly what was the meaning of hersadness, what misfortune had happened, what calamitywas expected? Beatrix would at first have kept hersecret. But Moraes pressed his questions with thefirm resolve of being satisfied, and accents of griefcame from his heart as he cried

THEY LEAVE SOUTH AMERICA. 69" Tell me, for pity's sake, tell me all ! Thoulittle"knowest how I love thee, how I adore thee !The burning words did not startle the girl.Shereflected that, after hearing such a confession, shewas bound to answer him as openly and as loyally.Though she strove to appear calm, her saddenedbrow betrayed her ;and at times her accents falteredand the voice expired upon her trembling lips.She told him in broken words that her father hadannounced his return to Holland by the first fleet ;that she was to leave Pernambuco for ever ;that bothmust now part." "Part !part he ! ejaculated as one " stunned.And I remain here when thou goest ? And what"are then my hopes in life ?All the force of passion now nerved his soul : heforgot prudence, respect, and gratitude everythingbut the inner voice of love which urged him on." Why did fate ever throw me in thy way f " hecontinued with the recklessness of one who has castthe die." Why hast thou taught me to love thee,I whose heart, tranquil and indifferent, had neverlearnt what love was ? "Long had Beatrix been accustomed to read his looksand gestures, to see his secret in his coldness and hiswarmth, in his sorrows and his joys. The mysteriesof passion, however carefully hidden, cannot escapea woman's eye. Yet not less was she startled by thewarmth and vehemence of his words. At first shefeigned not to understand him. She then attemptedto change the subject. But as Moraes only insistedthe more, she was driven to the last resource, andshe replied in sad and measured tones" Reasons all the stronger for our parting! I willnot deceive thee. I also love thee, and perhapsnot less deeply than thou dost, as thy words declarethou dost. I also shall be unhappy when the broadseas roll between us. But I will try to forget thee ;

7 o MANUEL DE MORAES.do thou the same. Banish allthoughts of me ;doubtless in time we shall live down the follywhichcommon sense condemns."" I do not understand thee," impetuously exclaimedMoraes." Why call Love folly ? How doth reasoncondemn it ? "" Thou dost not reflect, nor did I," said a voice ofineffable tenderness, while Beatrix gently took hishand and raised her tearful eyes to heaven. "Weimprudently allowed our hearts to meet, our souls tocommune together, without looking to the future, withoutforeseeing how impossibleit is that we shouldbecome one. I am a Protestant, thou a Catholic ; amighty gulf yawneth between thee and me. My Peoplecannot forget the persecutions and the horrors of whichyours were guilty. Bleeding wounds gape betweenthe two Faiths."" "Impossible!impossible interrupted Moraes.!" I might have borne with this parting had I notknown myself beloved. My grief would have killedme, still I should have endured it. But now, nowthat all ishappiness, now that nature smileth upon me,now that the Angels of Heaven speak to me, it is impossible.So thou and I may not part. Whateverplace conceal thee I will find thee out. I will followthee to the world's end. Everywhere shalt thou meetme me who breathe with thy breath, live with thylife, and am ready to die with thee or to die for thee."" But what serveth all this," asked Beatrix, who,though as much agitated as he was, retained the powerof appearing calm, " if we can never be united, if\ve are to be parted by Religion and Mankind, byTradition and Society ? I cannot become a Catholic.Thy mayest not deny thy faith. Even if love, in amoment of weakness, should triumph over thy convictions,should make thee a renegade, wouldst thouexpect long to escape the pains of perjury, the penaltiesof remorse ? Would not these suffice to wither

THEY LEAVE SOUTH AMERICA. 71a love which demanded as its sacrifice an ImmortalSoul, an Eternity of Happiness? Would it notseem the merest senseless caprice, when repentanceshall have placed the past in its true light? Let thyLet me strive tothoughts be more worthy of thyself.heal these wounds which we have heedlessly, recklesslyinflicted each on other. Fancy only that we aretwo travellers who have met on the desert path, whohave rested their limbs under the shade of the samepalm, who have cooled their lips with the waters ofthe same fountain. What then ? Let both arise andbid adieu, and each wend the appointed way. In thisvale of tears we wander not for ever ;we can hardlybe said to tread it. In the far future we shall meetto part no more. Like the son of Abraham, thouhast crossed Mesopotamia, but the daughter of Labanmay not follow " thee."Wouldst thou see me die ? " asked Manuel, painedand surprised by the strange Scriptural language andby the scornful tones in which the girl spoke.u Betterfar to have let the fever consume me, than by thy careand thy charity to snatch from it a life which thouhast saved only to destroy.""The Lord," continued Beatrix, "gave us heartsto love, but the heart must be governed by the Spirit,the Maker's own emanation. Above all, hear we thevoice of reason and reflection. We two cannot hopelawfully to become one : remain thou in Pernambucowhilst I go with my father. Thus indeed must it be,now that our sentiments are known to each other."" No, never," cried Manuel." I would rather slaymyself. What is life ? What is its worth to the solitarywretch wandering through the weary world? Whatis Religion, what is Creed, where a man feels that Faithisimpossible to him, that he was not born, notcreated to believe ;when he knows that he belongethto the World, to the Society of his kind ?"These words contained that which made the girl

72 MANUEL DE MORAES.tremble. She saw clearly that Manuel was blindedby his passion and hurried on to a fatal end. Buthis love, his devotion, showed a depth and a heatwhich necessarily flattered her self-love, which exaltedhigh in her eyes a lover capable of such sacrifice.Still she was not so hoodwinked by the instincts ofher sex that she could not foreshadow from afar thefatal consequences of such enthusiasm."Change of Belief," she said, "demandeth firmconviction, not sudden hallucination. It must be thework of the head, not of the heart. The soul mustconfirm and supportit. Love is transient : when itsspell is past, when the bloom wears off, then willRepentance thunder at the door. How I should condemnmyself were I to cause thy eternal "misery" ! Fear" not," responded Manuel ; only allow me togo with thee to thy home in Holland, so that thoumayest judge the truth of my words by my deeds."Beatrix promised to give his prayer due reflection,and begged to be left alone. They parted in thegreatest agitation.And now that Manuel de Moraes had told his love,itspurned all the bonds of reason. It subjugated hiswhole man, intellectual as well as moral. He bent toit as one yielding himself prisoner, or rather as a slavewho hugs his manacles and his fetters, holding themto be his highest happiness, believing in them ashis manifest inevitable destiny, and loving them asthe bestower of especial delights and reveries and rosydreams.Beatrix went far deeper in thought. Her heartwas won by her lover's heart; but her reason alsospoke, and it spoke only of danger to come. Thestruggle of smiling love and trembling fear filled hermind and weaned her spirit.She intrusted her secret to her father, confessingthat her heart and soul belonged to Moraes, that shecould neither leave him nor he forget her, and that no

THEY LEAVE SOUTH AMERICA. 73other man should ever be her husband. Nor did sheneglect to confide her suspicions that his love wasabout to change his Catholic faith for Calvinism, withthe sole object of accompanying her and of living forher.Brodechevius highly esteemed the saviour of hisonly daughter. He appreciated his remarkable intelligence,his rarely endowed mind, and his spirit capableof the most memorable actions. He had no objectionto him as a son-in-law ;neither riches nor rank wereanything in the good old father's eyes, but artificialdistinctions the garb of the man, not the man. Theonly obstacle to the union appeared to be the differenceof faith, and this would be smoothed over only byManuel's abjuring the Catholic religion and adoptingHolland as his home. But he also held itnecessaryto prove the sincerity and the conviction with whichMoraes would face the difficulties of the position.He advised Beatrix to hope from time the proofs ofher lover's truth, and to allow him to accompany her,when it would be easier to observe and to judge him.Early in 1639 the Hollanders' fleet sailed from thecoast of Pernambuco. All the personages of our taleembarked upon it, abandoning the Brazilian shores,and Manuel de Moraes took leave of America withthe firm intention of never again seeing his nativeland.

( 74 )CHAPTER VIII.MARRIAGE AND REPENTANCE.THE year had not died out since the return of Brodecheviusand his daughter to Amsterdam before Manuelde Moraes abjured the Catholic religion and embracedProtestantism : he married Beatrix with theold Hollander's consent, and finally the adoptedcountry became his home.Happily at firstsped the days in the bosom of thisquiet, amiable family. Although there was scantattraction for Moraes in his new faith, he punctuallyobeyed the orders and he scrupulously fulfilled all theduties enjoined by the Church of Calvin. The changeweighed not heavily upon his soul, because the hourof repentance and remorse had not yet struck. Moreover,the charming spouse, who ever showed someprecious quality before unknown, and who met hisfiery love with a rare abnegation of self and anextreme devotion, still held him by a witchery asdelightful as it was novel.Families of distinction visited at their house ;thechoicest of society sought their friendship, and themost agreeable intercourse was always open to them.Moraes made the acquaintance, among others, of manyPortuguese Jews, who had escaped from the persecutionof their Government and of the Holy Office.Condemned by the unjust misconceptions and thestolid prejudices of public opinion, which so rarelymeans aught but public ignorance, many had foundshelter and liberty to worship their own God amongst

MARRIAGE AND REPENTANCE. 75the judicious Hollanders, whose greatness and glorygrew by the industry and by the wealth of the refugees.Amongst the Hebrews were men of notable merit.Many of them had apparently exchanged their religionfor the Catholic faith in order to remain in Portugal,where the worship of the Israelite was not permitted.But the most trifling suspicion, a single word ofaccusation, was ever enough to seize and imprison, totry and condemn them to the Inquisitional rack andstake. Some entered the monastic orders, assumedthe sacerdotal garb, and even took service as familiarsof the abominable Tribunal. Still the change of faithand of manners availed them little. None believedin the sincerity of the "New Christian." The fewwere those who, unwilling to deny their religion, werecompelled to expatriate themselves. The many, eitherfrom conviction or for worldly motives, adopted Catholicismas the surest pledge of devotion to her dogmasand discipline that they could offer to the Church.It was enough to be a Jew, to have been one, evento be descended from a :Jew neither insult nor misery,neither prison nor torture, nor barbarous judicialmurder was spared to them. Neither sex nor ageexcepted them from such horrors. By their emigrationPortugal lost a rich, industrious, active, andintelligent people, capable of the highest enterprisethat the age required. And her sin, her crime, soonbrought with it its own and proper retribution.Amongst the Hebrews then established in Amsterdamfigured three Portuguese who have left a namein letters and science. Isaac Orobio de Castro, a celebratedphysician in Lisbon and a professor in Seville,escaped disguised from the dungeons of the HolyOffice, and was named Chief amongst the Israelitecommunities of Holland. 1 The second was Manassehben Israel, a distinguished naturalist descended from.lSee Rene Saint Taillan-lier," Les Juifs Portugais en IIollande."

76 MANUEL DE MORAES.the Jews of Arabia, 1 and Uriel da Costa the third, 2whohad borne civil office in Lisbon, and had conformed tothe religion of Rome. This, however, would not havepreserved him from the bloody tribunal ever panting topurify religious faith by the baptism of fire a baptismwhich burned alive the victims of their atrocioussuperstition.The Jewish families carefully preserved in theirNetherland home the Portuguese tongue and thecustoms of their Sephardime ancestors ; they formeda free community, building their synagogues, performingtheir ceremonies, and keeping holy their Sabbathdays,their Pasch and their other traditional festivals.All that Manuel saw amongst the Protestants ofHolland, together with the history and the actualstate of the exiled Jews, contributed to strengthen hisnew faith and to fend off the inevitable day of remorse.About this time broke out the Portuguese revolutionof 1640. The banished Hebrews applauded theglorious rising of the Lusitanians, eager to assert theirindependence, and to shake orT the hated yoke ofSpain. Manuel de Moraes, inspired by the happyevent, and excited by patriotic memories, publishedin the same year a memoir defending the rights ofPortugal and of the Duke of Braganza, who was calledto the throne under the historic name of Dom Joao IV.He presented a copy to Diogo de Mendon9a Furtado,the diplomatist accredited to Holland Printed at Leydenand in the Castilian tongue, it bore for " title, Prognostico3 y Respuesta a una pergunta de un Cabaleromuy ilustre sobre la Cosas de Portugal."These events began to remind him of what he wasand of whence he came.His own writings filled himwith yearning for his own country, and doubts, at firstSee " Barlseus, De Rebus Variis."12 See Taillandier, quoted above.3 Forecast and Reply to the question of an Illustrious Personageupon the Affairs of Portugal.

MARRIAGE AND REPENTANCE. 77timid, concerning the honesty and the dignity of hischange of Faith crept into his soul. Gathering strengthby slow degrees, the harassing uncertainty became aself-accusation in the court of his own conscience. Itended in a self-condemnation which was repentance.Meanwhile, he was to allappearance happy in hishome none more so. A father-in-law full of goodnessand affection ;a beautiful, gentle, and devotedwife ;a fortune all-sufficient for his station ;a reputationfor gravity and intelligence ;friends who soughtand received his company with pleasure what wantedhe more for happiness in this world ?So thought he himself at first, finding nothing inhis path but repose and pleasure, flowers and perfumes.But, past the first days of happiness, the smallstill voice that came from his spirit gradually awokean agitation of mind which incessantly grew ; itpresentlyfilled him with a nameless grief, with mourningsadder and deeper than man mourning for the lossof what is dearest to him. At last it stole away withhis happiness all the vivacity which had distinguishedhim, and it left him to wither like a branch loppedfrom the parent tree.Manuel would fain have hidden his wound fromthe world, more especially from the wife whom hestill adored, who was the only being on earth forwhom he would have sacrificed his life ;but thespiritual and moral change that affected her husbandcould not escape the eyes of Beatrix. Nor was itlongbefore she instinctively divined the cause, and withouta hint or a word from Manuel, although she questionedhim in every manner about the true motive ofthe melancholy which weighed him down in spirit.She trembled; her worst presentiments were nowrealised. The light of life was about to set in theouter gloom of lifelong expiation. Remorse would soonquench his fiery love, his enthusiastic passion, whichat first had been the joys of the senses rather than themysterious affinity of mind and soul. All her domestic

78 MANUEL DE MORAES.happiness vanished like a happy dream, which withwaking ends for ever. Yet she could not complainof ingratitude on his part: he had no other love ;hepreferred to her no other woman he still ;adored herwith all his heart ;he still lavished upon her the samemarks of fond and delicate attachment. But thephantom was not to be laid. He was struggling inthe stern grasp of Repentance, of Remorse against theunion to which he had offered up what his now openingeyes well saw should not, and could not, be sacrificedby man. He was helpless in the convictionthat he had cast away that which is better than reason,than love, than life itself.She turned angrily, fiercely upon herself, whoseweakness had accepted the impossible sacrifice withoutappreciatingitsimmensity. Beatrix was presentlyinfected by the sadness and the moral dejection thatpreyed upon Manuel ;and both mourned apart overwhat no communication could either soften or console.Each took a different path ;both became solitaryisolated beings, connected by society and theworld, separated by an immensity of sorrow, whichwithdrew them each from other as though they hadbeen accomplices in a deed of shame.They ever avoided sweet mutual confidence. Butthe intimacy of domestic life was still there, andthough both feared explanations, such remarks asthese could not at times be avoided :" I am the cause," said Beatrix to her husband oneday, u of the anguish of spirit which thou art nowenduring ."" "Thou !replied Moraes ";believe me, thou artmistaken ;rather say thou art my only GuardianAngel. Only last night I dreamt that a frightfulmonster was rushing at me ;I knew my danger asif I had been awake, but I could not move hand orfoot. Thou earnest to my aid the monster;fled ;J;thy hand saved me."Thou hast sacrificed thy life to me," she pursued.

MARRIAGE AND REPENTANCE. 79" I know thou dost not regret it ;but thou hast alsosacrificed to me thy Faith, and I accepted what I neverAnd now thou art the prey ofought to have accepted.torturing repentance. Alas ! I see itonly too well.""Love me still," rejoined Moraes, "and all this isnothing. I live only for thee ; thy love is the sole curefor these dark hours which have come upon me sosuddenly, so unexpectedly, so mysteriously, and whichat times gain complete mastery over my mind.Thypresence is my Guardian Angel, the one arm strongenough to defend me from them."" " Moraes," she continued sadly, I know thee, Ilove thee, I adore thee. I recognise the enormoussacrifice thou madest for my love ; it was my fault forpermitting it, not thine. But now there is no escapefor us ;the terrible consequences rise up like phantomsof the past, and the Lord abandons me. Seehow everything in this world shows the tie betweenthe Creator and His creature.The forest that rustles,the lake that slumbers, the torrent that dashes itselfagainst the rocks, the wind that whispers, the Citythat dreams, the bird that warbles, and the dawn thatgleams all these have their several voices in thehymn of general harmony. I alone look upon myselfas a useless discord in the immense concert of nature.In the midst of the immortal poem, I am as a linestruck out ;I am a stone rejected, deemed unworthyof that palace which the Eternal Architect hath built.I hold myself like the colourless face of the waters,which hardly reflect the beauty and the majesty of theflowers, of the trees, of the firmament."These highly coloured sentiments, the majestic expressionsof the Northern mind, made the deepesteffect upon Manuel de Moraes. In fact, they probedfor him more severely the extent of the wound whichgrief and bitterness had dealt to the bosom of his wife." "O my Patron Saint ! he exclaimed, embracingher with the fondest affection, "banish from thy mindthese images of sorrow and terror. If I am no longer

8oMANUEL DE MORAES.what I was ;if I am but the shadow of my former self,if my intellect be paralysed, thou also canst consoleme, canst save me ;for thou alone canst bind me tothis life. Restore to me thy soul ; give me back thyfaith, which is life the faith in thy love ! "" I had dreamed," she broke in," that we shouldboth have found happiness in the same path. Thepeace and quiet of a home-life have charms for me ;thy spirit revolteth against them. Say, what sacrificewouldst thou have me make to exceed those thatthou madest for me ? ""None! none!" cried Moraes; "it is for me torepeat it and prove to thee my devotion. If thouwouldst see me live, cease to suffer, O my soul ! Pardonme and pass over these involuntary outbreaks.Thou art not to be blamed, nor am I : here no faultattaches to either of us."But the lives of Moraes and Beatrix were still moresaddened by the want of children, the real tie toexistence, the bond which exceeds in lasting strengthall other human sentiment, which compels the parentsto self-preservation and to a fellowship of labour forthe future of what they hold dearest.Thus the unhappy couple pined away in secret,still loving and still beloved, yet both the prey of endlessgrief. The prostration of spirit into which Beatrixhad fallen was yet greater than the melancholy whichhad mastered Manuel. The latter bore the blow inhis mind and soul;it was dealt by repentance, byremorse, but the strong will of Manhood was ablephysically to stand up before it. The sorrow thatdwelt in the heart of Beatrix fellupon the more fragileframe of Womankind, and her health declined palpablyenough to alarm all around her. Her colour, beforefresh as the breezes of the north, lost its brilliancy.Her eyes, in happier days so full of life and love, werenow faded and lifeless. Her strength departed fromher. That form, tall and slight as the palm-tree ofthe desert, bending and graceful as the cygnet that

MARRIAGE AND REPENTANCE. 81glides over the bosom of the lake, showed the saddestsigns of decay, a general look of physical sufferingwhich afflicted the many who esteemed and loved her.The change was not lost upon old Brodechevius.He saw his only, his dearly beloved daughter dying outof his sight without knowing what was underminingher health, and without being able to divine the cure.Manuel wept like a child, forgetting, in his love andin this new sorrow, all the melancholy which had op-He attempted to console herpressed his own spirits.by every fond deceit, swearing to her that he no longerfelt the sad impressions which erst had come upon him ;that he was wholly reconciled to the state of life whichhe had chosen, as one rich in promises of moral utility ;and that, without her, existence would be impossible.He conjured her to happiness and length of days by thelove which she had bestowed upon him, and by her pityfor one who had dedicated himself to her with all thestrength of his heart and with all the powers of his soul." Moraes," she said to him about nightfall, approachinga lattice that looked out upon the sea-arm bathingAmsterdam, and gazing upon a pale star that shimmeredover the short and misty Northern horizon,"seest thou that melancholy orb? That is my existence.Shortly it will drop from the firmament, andits place shall know it no more : it will be engulfedin the glooms of the unseen world. I was happy aslong as I saw thee happy by myside. But I causedthy misery, and I must pay to Heaven the penalty ofmy selfishness. Thy brain is still haunted by thoughtsof noble and patriotic duties. Thy mind dwelleth uponthe senseless sacrifice which was made in the hour ofpassion. The cruel tortures ever awaiting him whoabandoneth his Faith and that of his forefathers haveAnd the moment thounot ceased to be thy portion.shalt be free, thou wilt return to the bosom of thyChurch, a straggler but not lost thou wilt recover;thyserenity by a penitent and holylife ;thou wilt makeatonement for thy sin, and ever look down uponall

82 MANUEL DE MORAES.earthly things which bar the soul of man from communewith his Maker.""For pity's sake, for thy sake, for my sake!" heinterrupted." What care I for the Faith of Rome ?Is not that of Calvin equally Christian, and far moresuited to the dignity and the free-will of HumanNature ? No, I have never repented ; Iacknowledgeno remorse. I have told thee so often how often !"Whywilt thou not believe me ?" Because I read the secret of thy heart better than"thou canst," continued Beatrix ; because I am awoman, and I love thee better than thou canst lovethyself. God so made me that I must either havepassed heart-whole through the world, or once havinggiven away my heart, that I could not but* expect fromhim who accepted the gift,an affection too entire andexclusive to know an idea which did not centre in me.On the day when I first saw how thoughts and yearningsfor the past affected thee involuntarily (I knowit was against thy will, nor needst thou assure me ofit)when I saw; thy mind and spiritfail in the strugglewith sentiment and penitence, although thy heart wasstill full of love for me, on that day I felt that myhours in the world were numbered, and that I had noone to look to but to my God."Manuel was too deeply affected to venture upon areply, and the dying wife retired to the privacy of herchamber.Her sufferings were not long. The decay of herstrength was completed by a nervous fever. Uselesscares were lavished upon her; no physician wouldminister to a disease which he did not understand.And thus she passed into eternity. Her last momentswere grief-full but resigned ;she could not but mournover her early death and her lost old age. Sad andsorrowful was the farewell which she bade to a husbandand a parent whom she loved with all her heart ;whilst, with the natural piety of her soul, she commendedherself to the care of her Eternal Father.

CHAPTER IX.THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL.ONCE more Manuel de Moraes found himself aloneupon earth. When he tore himself from the cloister,from his family, and from his country, the happyignorance, the audacious hopes and the wild dreamsof youth enabled him to stand up single-handedagainst the world. But at the death of the onlybeing for whose sake he looked forward to life, hisyears were verging upon forty, and now the brightcareer which lay before him was overcast by theshadows and sorrows of experience.His childish years had not left upon him any deepimpression but;the accidents of his early manhood,his wanderings in the backwoods of Sao Vicente, hisadventures amongst the savage Redskins, and moreespecially the majestic dreams of La Guayra, thesplendid nature of the American interior, and thesublime wrath and fury of the ocean, had exalted hismind, and, instead of bowing it down, had given toit a new strength.And now, at an age no longer so elastic and self-around him wore another and asufficient, everythingfar less pleasing aspect. Within himself, where differentideas, struggling for mastery, tortured every fibreof his soul, his prospect was indeed blank. He wasprostrated by the yearning memories of a lost wife.By her side how many happy days he had passed intranquil pleasures and in the dreams of life-longaffection ! He could not bear to think of the whole-

84 MANUEL DE MORAES.hearted, exclusive attachment of that adored being,who had allowed herself to die when she found thatevery part of his soul was not her own.He was far distant from his native land, whoseimage would at times rise before him he knew;nothing of the parents and sisters whom he hadabandoned, a step which now led to the deepestgrief; he had separated himself from the Holy.Roman Catholic faith, the only one which consolesman in sorrow, and which speaks to the heart withpersuasive eloquence ;his lot was cast in the societyof strangers, who could never be to him what his ownshould have been. Such were his present miseries,and what hope of the future was he entitled to hold ?As he left the house that had so long been his home,his heart was broken to see the change in it. He torehimself away from the unfortunate Brodechevius,leaving with him all the riches of which he might haveclaimed a part. He took lodgings in a retired part ofAmsterdam, that he might be alone with his sorrow.The City had already risen to importance by itsindustry and commerce. It was cut by an hundredcanals, upon whose banks stood noble buildings andwhose waters bore a jostling array of ships. Itsprosperity was increased by traffic with the coloniesof which Holland had despoiled Portugal during thesixty years' vassalage of the latter under the threePhilips of Castile. Rich and rare cargoes were incessantlyshipped off to the Brazil, to Africa and to Asiaby the Cape of Good Hope. In its streets andwithin its walls gathered an active, industrious, andenterprising people, who had learned to tame aningrate nature and an inclement clime, and to createartificial beauties and immense wealth, which gaveitan aspect at once comfortable, prosperous, and imposing.All that Manuel most admired in the works of manbegan to lose novelty and charm in proportion as

THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL. 85memory recalled to him the scenes of the past.Wasnot the tropical nature more sublime ? was not theremore delight to the eye in the virgin forests of SaoVicente ;in the majestic rivers Parana", Tie'te', and LaPlata ;in the splendid aspect of the heavens, and inthe pure delicious atmosphere of Central America?What human art was worthy to loose the shoe-tie ofNature? What comparison was there between anartificial city compelled to fortify herself with dykesagainst the overwhelming sea and the riant plainupon which reposed the Recife of Pernambuco orthe beautiful heights that bore his native village ofSao Paulo?In the contrast upon which his mind now dwelt,the race of man followed the climate. The taciturngravity of the Hollander, however industrious andenterprising he be the avarice of the;Hebrew, thoughactive and energetic, did not gain when comparedwith the jovial and lively character of the Portuguese,or with the innocence and the virtues of the nativeAmerican. The moral and religious qualities of theProtestant ministers, fathers of families, men of theworld, immersed in domestic cares and business,could have little attraction forone who had appreciatedthe mystical and holy self-sacrifice of the Jesuits,those mortal denizens of heaven rather than of earth,spending life wholly in the practice of what mightawait them in the future, in the exercise of lovingcharity and of perfect philanthropy; men who exposedthemselves to the greatest perils, even untoMartyrdom, that they may bring within the fold ofthe Church a herd of the vilest nomads.After the worldly he reviewed the spiritual side ;he looked with the eye of a philosopher rather thanof a divine upon the two creeds, Calvinistic andCatholic. In the former he saw revealed the pride andself-sufficiency of man which, under pretext of libertyof conscience and free judgment, would communicate

86 MANUEL DE MORAES.direct with his Creator, disdaining all mediation, and\vould interpret by the lights of ignorant or half-learnedcaprice the difficulties of the Divine Law and themysteries of the Holy Evangel. Whereas Catholicism,far wiser, had organised a gradually progressiveChurch, ever adapting itself to the wants of eachgeneration she had raised Mankind; according to itsdeserts, whilst at the same time she bowed the humanspirit in the presence of the Supreme. Finally, sheexplained to her votaries the sacred text and dogmasin the simplest of forms, and, the better to preservethe individuality of the Bride of Christ, she inculcatedobedience to a Single Head.Again, what temerity in the direct address of thecreature to the Creator ! How much arrogance inbanishing all pomp from the temple What contumacyin rejecting those admirable men, whose dedi-!cation to ascetic life and to the joys of eternity, hadmuch ofraised them to the rank of saints ! Howcrime in that revolt against the successor of St. Peter,to whom Protestants preferred the rule of some beingraised from the dust, devoid of prestige, some selfconstitutedprophet and heresiarch, like Luther andCalvin ! His imagination dwelt with delight uponthe character of the Catholic Church, at once grave,serene, and attractive ; upon the many-sided natureof that ancient and venerable creed, which rejoicedsociety with the pomp of its solemnities which; bythe soft sadness of its chants and hymns remindedMan of his nothingness which; lightened the darkplaces of his soul by Confession and Communion, andwhich by the Last Sacraments at the dread hour ofDeath prepared him for Eternal Life, contrite and resigned,expecting the Divine pardon and the infinitemercy which never abandon the hapless children ofAdam.The consequence of his reflections was a delugeof remorse overwhelming his spirit. This existence

THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL. 87without Faith, without Love, was it not that of thedegraded savage? To barter Catholicism, whichnourishes, which supports, which elevates the soul,for the cold, calculating, interested dogmas of Calvinism,was it not a crime darker far than any sinagainst human morality ?The wife who could have turned the current ofthese gloomy thoughts, who would, perhaps, haveblunted the stings of conscience which tortured himas with the poison of scorpions, was now, alas ! nomore. He had not a single friend to modify thedirection of his ideas, which were running into extremes,or to lead him once more into the busy hauntsand paths of men. His painful bitter days dragged theirslow length along. His nights were sleepless, spentbetween cruel memories and pungent remorse. Remainednot one tie that bound him to life. Heloathed society, and yet he found no remedy insolitude. Days without rest, nights without repose,affected his mind through his body these mingled;sufferings soon wasted away his health and destroyedthe little of youth and elasticity that remained tohim.At times he would force himself from the town tobreathe the free country air. But the change broughtno relief. He looked upon fields artfully cultivated,watered by dull canals, fenced with exemplary regularity;he found them nude of forest trees andspontaneous vegetation, and deserted by the birdsthat sing their hymns of love, canticles that rise tothe throne of God, a harmonious orchestra which proclaimsand salutes His omnipotence. His heart sankdeeperstill as he remembered his New World plainsand pampas, whose immensity, whose majestic charms,and whose ineffable sublimity appear to be the imageand the symbol of the Divine Providence. Wherewere the young waters whose headlong course sprangover the precipice to sport with the white rocks in

88 MANUEL DE MORAES.the basin below? Where the swelling streams ofmature age which, reposing upon beds of flowers andblossoms, delighted the eyes and taught the gazer tolook up to Nature's primal source, and to contemplatethe omnipotence of the Universal Architect ? Alone,and deep in these thoughts, he paced along a canalin the neighbourhood of Amsterdam. Already nighthad spread her black mantle over the firmament, andhad wrapped him in her gloom before he perceivedthat it was time for him to end his walk.Suddenly the silence of the air was interrupted bythe soft accents of a woman's song, accompanied byan instrument which he had known in his youth,and which he had not heard since leaving the dearBrazilian shore. It was the Portuguese guitar, whichmurmured a melancholy sound like the distant harmonyof the harp. Attracted by a sympathy hecould not resist, Manuel approached the cottagewhence the music came. He listened to the wordsof the melody, and involuntarily he trembled, hearingthat they were Portuguese, pronounced by Portugueselips. Who was the angel that whispered in his earsthe song which his childhood had loved, and whatmight they express? Affection, passion, or the madnessof love ?Little by little he distinguished the words ;he lostthe strength to stand, and he sank, supporting himselfupon a stone.To him it was a sermon rather than a song ;a reproof,not a rhyme a; penitential psalm, not a hymn ;a curse rather than a blessing. The following werethe verses which fell from the minstrel's lips in raptand heartfelt tones :O sweetest faith ! Oblessed creed !Drained with our milk in infancy,Blent with our souls when children trainedTo pray around a mother's knee !

THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL..89What power of life,what power of loveFrom out our hearts thy thoughts can tear ?What charm of change, what might of timeTo touch the heavenly gift shall dare ?Place me where every woe is mine,Thirst, hunger, and jail, stranger land ;Yet shall my soul hold fast the boonTill Death extend his icy hand.4-Thou legacy of priceless worthBy Heaven bequeathed to erring man,Thou pledge to man that God is God,Thou secret of th' immortal plan!3-Lives there on earth a thing so vileThat on the ashes of his siresCan heap reproach, and make their creedThe victim of his low desires ?His be it o'er the earth to roamLike one accurst with endless curse,Without a wife, a child, a friend,To dull the pang of dire remorse !5-6.In the spirit of man the Creator has placed a mysteriousfibre for the purpose of impressing himthrough the superstitious, the fantastic, the supernatural,of beating down his vanity, and of provingthe difference of the two substances which composehim the one a frail vile frame, born of depravity ;theother an immaterial, eternal essence, a spark of theDivine fire, to which it will fly upwards when freedfrom its tenement of dust.However robust and stubborn be the spirit,ittrembles before the sudden sight of a corpse,it bendscontrite in the presence of a tomb, and it is filled withsombre thought by a Cross descried in the forest or

90 MANUEL DE MORAES.on the river-bank, deserted, as was by the peopleIsrael the God-Man who sacrificed Himself for theSalvation of the World. The unexpected music of theChurch-bell, a melancholy Canticle heard at unlookedformidnight hours, a solemn Miserere chanted underthe Temple-dome who can resist these influences, normelancholyfeel the sudden painful emotion that shakes the limbs,that freezes the blood, that commands the mind, thatprostrates the spirit, and that compels the mostsceptical soul to religious thought and tomusings?Manuel de Moraes felt one and all of these impressionsas he heard the Portuguese guitar and thesong, doubtless repeated by some banished daughterof Israel, who, with her faith, had preserved the picturesquelanguage of her sires upon the shores ofthe Northern Sea and under the frigid Batavian air."Renegade! renegade!" cried a voice from hisbosom, plunging his whole being in a flood of painful"cruel remorse. Renegade! !"renegade were theterrible accents which thundered"in his ear. Withouta wife, a child, a friend ! was not such hissolitary exile upon earth ? Had the verses' been expresslydirected and applied to his own case ? Wasnot this accident the forerunner of the wrath ofHeaven?He had not bodily strength enough to bear theviolence of his emotions. Losing his senses, he fellupon the turf which clothed the humid soil. Hoursand hours rolled by before he returned to life, norwas any good Samaritan accidentally led there to putforth the hand of charity and to save him from hisdanger.Already the horizon was becoming visible underthe pale brassy light that foreruns the Northern morn,putting to flight the shade, melting the glooms withits tepid breath of life, and presently pouring theflood of day over the immensities of earth and air

THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL. 19and sea. The dampness of the ground aroused himfrom his long swoon, and lent him strength to ariseand to recover himself from the death-like lethargy.Slowly, and with frequent pauses, he walked towardsthe City, trembling as the fatal lines which had readhis sentence stillrang in his ears." I have abandoned my country! I have deniedmy Faith, without conviction, without conscience,"he repeated to himself," and those faithful ones whohave endured for itevery woe thirst, hunger, prison,and strangerhood, misery, torture, and death ! OFather Eusebio de Monserrate ! art thou not thewriter of these lines which place upon my foreheadthe brand of shame ? Didst thou not warn me of thewretched fate awaiting him who dared to prefer thestormy ocean of the outer world to the peaceful waterswithin the Church of God ? "He wanted air to breathe, light to stimulate, andfaith to tranquillise a soul agitated by the most violentand desperate inner struggle.Physical weakness called for repose, but rest fledfrom the torments of his spirit ;the couch was a bedof thorns, which tore his skin, which wounded hisbones, which penetrated into his very vitals.A deadly sickness came over him, and bore him tothe verge of the grave. But his constitution was stillstrong enough to throw off the taint, and he was reservedfor worldly trials even more calamitous thanthose which he had yet endured.His first step, on rising from his sick-bed, was toseek some Catholic place of worship. His objectwas to ascertain what would be, upon a mind diseased,the effect of the pomp and ceremonies of theFaith which he had so lightly deserted, and whoseheavy retribution had now come upon him.Man in his earlier years easily disdains religiousideas. From a so-called philosophic indifference liereadily lapses into that scepticism, and perhaps into

92 MANUEL DE MORAES.that active form of irreligion, which mocks and scoffsat all things sacred. He is surrounded by so manysensual delights, by so many novel pleasures, and byso many charms of the intellect and the imagination,whilst the fire and fervour of youth assist them toabsorb him, and to lead him astray from the road toheaven. The world tempts him with her siren-smilesand scenes ;Nature speaks to him with all her witchery,gilding the wide horizon with so many pictures ofecstasy; the warbling of the bird is so sweet, theperfume of the flower is so intoxicating ; society offersto him nothing but friendship and love, and Fancypaints existence with the rainbow hues of a poet'sdream. But let him double the Stormy Cape whichforms the half-way stage of his Earthly journey, of theyears which he may expect to live. Then, indeed, ashe looks out into the future, the view sadly changes ;the horizon narrows to a span, and the short vistabefore his eyes ends in a shrouded corpse, a coffin,and a hollowed grave, with Death and the glooms ofChaos brooding around. O unhappy! It is now thatReligion must lighten these terrors it is Faith that;must sow the seed of Hope, of firm trust in the Divinepity,which alone can pardon the waste of years, theabuse of life, the neglect of opportunities offered onlyto be thrown away.Such were the thoughts which led Manuel to seekthe Church of his"forefathers. Here, haply," hesoliloquised, " I may find some rest from a diseasewhich knoweth no cure."He was shocked at the aspect of the Holy Housewhere the rites of Rome were celebrated by the faithfulfew who had not conformed to the Calvinism orthe Lutheranism of Holland. It had none of thesplendour of the Temple, and ithardly showed thedecency which we expect in the place where menassemble to address their Maker. The external appearancewas almost secular ; it was a meeting-house,

THE NOVICE'S THIRD TRIAL. 93not a fane, and the curse of the fanatic Calvin seemedto be set upon its brow.Trembling with excitement, he pushed open theChurch-door almost convulsively. Within he foundhimself fronting three altars adorned with statuaryand tapestried with symbolical flowers, typifyingeternal Light and Life. On one side was the vase ofholy water which washes away the sins of man. Thepriests were intoning the solemn Mass, and the fumesof incense mingled with the voice of praise, the choir,and the melody of the organ whilst ; winged Angelsand prostrate Saints seemed to intercede for the repentingsinner ;the sacred vestments of the Religiousand their acolytes met his eyes, and the venerableaccents of the Latin tongue struck upon his ear.These were the details of a spectacle which, even withinthat pauper house, breathed all the Majesty of the onetrue Church.Does not the traveller, weary and footsore withtreading the burning sands under a fiery sun, rejoicewith all his heart at the sight of an oasis in theArabian desert? Is there aught more delicious toone, whose tongueisparched and whose limbs arerelaxed by devouring thirst, than the melody of thecrystal spring bubbling from the hillside ? Such uponthe tortured soul of Manuel was the effect of the wellknown,never-forgotten scene. A sweet sense of reliefstole on his as spirit, though the goal of Salvationwere in view ;a ray of light pierced the dark secretsof his inner being, and the dew from on high shedbalm over his wounded and broken heart.Humbly the penitent bowed himself down to earth.Hope returned with the voices of the celebrants andthe presence of the altars with the; aspects of theSaints, the mute language of the symbolic flowers andornaments, and the harmonious pealings of the organ.He raised to the throne of the Eternal the cry of hisrepentance, and from the depths of his soul he im-

94 MANUEL DE MORAES.plored the immensity of Divine compassion. Duringseveral hours he knelt motionless, until, firm in hisresolution to repent, he felt that Heaven was vouchsafinga something of its infinite mercy to his vows ofa new life, of a better future. Nor did he leave theholy precincts till those, whose dutyit was to clearthem, had announced that the doors were about to beclosed.At length he had found the theriac which couldcounteract the poison of his "spirit. What," nowwhispered the inner voice, " what penance will itenjoin in order to complete the cure, to restoreeternal health ? "

( 95 )CHAPTER X.PADRE ANTONIO VIEIRA,THE JESUIT.AT dawn on the next dayManuel de Mcaesr leftAmsterdam for the Hague. Reaching the capital ofthe States- General, he at once inquired for tue residenceof the Envoy and Diplomatic Agent accreditedby Portugal to the Government of the Stadtholder.This was no other than the celebrated Jesuit FatherAntonio Vieira, apreacher of marvellous eloquence,a master of Lusitanian style, and a personal friend ofhis monarch, Dom Joao II., who, the better to carry onagainst Spain the war of independence, had chargedhim with the important mission of negotiating peacewith Holland.Manuel, begging to be admitted into the presenceof this illustrious personage, was led to a room simplyfurnished, and more distinguished by the modesty ofitsappointments than for the luxurious ornaments bywhich diplomatists, who rely so much upon outwardappearance, attempt to exalt their own credit and thedignity of their nation. Presently he descried in adistant corner a man wearing the long black soutaneof St. Ignatius, with a dark skull-cap, from which irongreylocks escaped. The Jesuit sat in an arm-chairbefore a rough table strewed with papers, and hewas so absorbed in writing that he did not perceivethat any one had entered the room.The Novice gazed at him with curiosity and wonder.His stature was little above the average, andwithout the least sign of corpulence. A tall broad

96 MANUEL DE MORAES.forehead, with salient protuberances and deeplywrinkled across; lively and sparkling eyes; cheeksand chin furnished with a thick, short-cut beardwhich was beginning to whiten ;an aspect of austeritywhich commanded respect, and which couldbe imposing as it was dignified.That soutane, that scull-cap, which he had notseen since he left the Rio de la Plata, revived thereminiscences of Sao Paulo, and overclouded histhoughts with painful images of the past. He fellunder the delusion that he was still in the Companyof St. Ignatius, and standing once more in thevenerable presenceof those virtuous and holy men,whom he yet venerated from the bottom of his heart.Not daring to approach the Jesuit or to disturb hisoccupations, he awaited the moment when the priestwould perceive his presence and address to him aword. This soon came to pass. Antonio Vieira,turning by chance, saw a figure standing behind himin submissive attitude and, without a gesture ormoving from the arm-chair, he asked the business ofhis visitor." I am a Portuguese," responded the intruder humbly,and I would speak with your Reverence."" What may be thy name ? " inquired the priest, " inthe same manner as before." Manuel de Moraes," answered the unfortunate,with diffidence.Antonio Vieira at once arose from his arm-chair,advanced a few paces towards his visitor, scannedhim nearly and observantly, and presently thus addressedhim" I know it well. Be seated, and say what thouwouldst say."" I was born at Sao Paulo," continued Manuel,still standing, for he did not dare to sit down in thepriest's presence." I know ! I know !"interrupted the Jesuit." I

PADRE ANTONIO VIEIRA. 97wish not to turn over pages which will increase thysorrow. All thy life is familiar to me.""Since your Reverence knoweth all," continuedManuel, " it were useless for me to trouble you, towaste your time."And an expression of disappointment appearedupon his countenance. Antonio Vieira at once sawit,and proceeded to remove the unpleasant impressionwith a kindly look, and a half smile which diedupon his lips as soon as they had formed " it.Thou art in the wrong," resumed the "Jesuit ; sitdown and let us speak together. Ibelong to theSociety of St. Ignatius. It seems as though yourmemory has not been treacherous to the servants ofGod who educated you at Sao Paulo. Have you anycomplaint to make against them ? ""Oh, no!" exclaimed Manuel; "they have implantedfor ever in my heart and soul a most fond andyearning affection. But I, reverend Sir, deceivedmyself into the belief that my vocation was not forthe holy mysteries of the Company. The Enemy ofMankind seduced me from her peaceful and gloriousasylum. Those ascetic virtues, that exemplary careerof constant self-sacrifice, appeared to be beyond mystrength. I wanted a call, faith, constancy of soul.I preferred a home life, to assist my family in worldlylabours, to belong to society. My father drave mefrom home I ; gave myself up to adventure. I wanderedabout the desert. I was taken prisoner."" That is nothing," interrupted the Jesuit, whosedarkened brow and firmly closed lips restored hisusual appearance of severity.; " here there is no crime,hardly even shortcoming."" Pardon me, reverend Sir," cried Manuel withsobs and casting himself upon the ground. "Youare right, you are wholly right. But will not God pardona true and sincere repentance ? Yes, I repentI repent The hour of madness is ! past. I am ready

98 MANUEL DE MORAES.to make any sacrifice for the remission of my sins.I -long to confess, to perform any penance imposedupon me, to suffer any pain and punishment that canrestore me to my sacred religion, the only one whichI know to be the true Church of God ;to my country,to the bosom of my parents, and to the Holy Company.I would fain end my days in the service ofthe Lord, hoping for His pardon in the world to come."The priest fixed upon him a long and penetratinggaze, as though he would read his conscience, probethe depths of his soul, and ascertain the truth andspontaneity of his retractation. Here was no wildGentile, pure and innocent, barbarous and untaught,ignoring social and religious ideas, converts of whomVieira had found so many in the depths of theand whom he knew so well to recruitBrazilian forests,into the Catholic host, to animate with the holy faithof Christ, and to transform simply and suddenly bybaptism and belief which left the heart without oneadverse or malicious thought. Vieira was a masteras well as a missionary: he had accustomed himselfto look upon the denizen of the wilds in Bahia,Maranhao, and Para" as a child who, with the sincerityand conviction of its age, accepts the counselsof religious tuition, and who obeys them with all theforce and fervour of soul and spirit. But very differentwas the penitence of a Portuguese who had forgottenhis creed, who had been false to his duties, andwho had exchanged his religion for the schismaticdoctrines which were then agitating the world. Muchmore difficult and serious also was his own positionin the presence of a man whom he know to be learnedand intelligent, and whom he saw tossed and torn bythe storm " within.Manuel de Moraes," said the Father, now assumingthe tone of the Priest ;that which becomes onewho speaks not like a man, but as the representativeof the Almighty and of His Church, " how shall I

PADRE ANTONIO VIEIRA. 99believe thy words, which are contradicted by a longcourse of persistent sin, when a list of infamous crimesaccuseth you ? ""Not only accuseth, reverend Sir," returned Manuel,"say rather denounceth, condemneth me. I know itbetter than can any other. Doth this stepsavour ofself-interest ? Is ought wanting to me in life, if Idesired to continue my present course " ?"Thou art subtle," replied the Jesuit. "I knewthee well by thy writings, and by thy fame for thetalents which God hath bestowed upon thee. I doubtnot thy patriotism:thy work upon our movement ofindependence proveth that well. But that is notenough. No !religion is superior even to love ofcountry. What is our Native Land or our home, whatis family or society, without the faith of Christ, ofHis Apostles, of His canonised Saints, of His one andeternal Church, of His Vicar upon earth, the SupremePontiff of Rome ? Without these, I say, what is man ?A frail being of flesh and blood, colourless and void ofinert nature, miserable savagery, animal brutum.gifts,All mundane interests must bow before things Divineand the holy aspirations of the spirit ;to man hisfamily, to the family society, to society his country :whilst even this must be as naught compared with theone true and everlasting religion of God, the HolyRoman Catholic Apostolic Church, whose most humbleslaves are the Disciples and followers of St. Ignatius.These are the men whom thou didst deny and whosecreed thou didst cast off."" It is sincere, O my Father," interrupted Manuel,"it is sincere, my penitence ! I am tortured by remorse.Let me not die before retracting and expiatingmy errors, my crimes. Suffer me not to end in thepains of hell, which already claim me as their portion.Take pity upon me; guide me. Teach me the wayof hope, which may console, even if it cannot save."These words, accompanied by a flood of tears which'o

iooMANUEL DE MORAES.bathed the speaker's face, were uttered with accentspf such heartfelt woe and utter conviction, that theJesuit could not but feel impressed in favour of hispenitent. He took from his bosom the heavy crucifixsuspended from its rosary, and presented it to Manuel,who hastened to kiss the holy symbol with ferventaffection, and to give evident signs of conscientiousrepentance." "Arise, sinner ! said the Father, opening a doorand pointing to an oratory within." There is theplace of prayer. There is the image of God. Bendthee before it ;address to itthy prayers ; implore of itthy pardon."Manuel hastily arose, glided into the chapel, closedthe door, and fell upon his knees before an altar whosesilver lamp and four waxen tapers diffused around adim religious light. Over it was a life-size picture ofthe Crucifixion. Blood dropped from the Divine hands,the feet, and the many wounds which had torn thebody. A majestic and heavenly serenity sat upon thecountenance, which was pale with the pallor of death.From the darkening eyes came the last look of purityand of ineffable innocence : it seemed still to proclaimbefore the world the eternal truths of Religion, ofMorality, and of the brotherhood of Mankind. Theartist had placed at the foot of the Cross, which sheembraced, the weeping Mother ; yet, through the griefwhich tare her breast and the woe that charged hercountenance, appeared the sublime expression of Loveand Hope. On one side of the picture St. Ignatiusde Loyola preached discipline and enthusiasm to theChurch Militant arrayed against Protestantism andother damnable heresies. St. Peter on the other,wearing the august tiara of the Roman Pontiff, thehead of the Catholic Faith, showed to a world theKeys of Heaven.At the sight of the holy memorials, Manuel felt asthough healing flowed through his veins. His soul,

PADRE ANTONIO VIEIRA. 101warmed by the mysterious flame of pitying and savinglove, no longer shuddered in the cold dry breath ofCalvinism. Implorings for compassion, the ferventprayer of youth, and sincere evidences of faith andconviction were not forgotten. Hope, Life, and Eternitysmiled with a novel aspect. Before him lay avague and misty future, it is true but no; longer black,as before, with the despair which had filled his soul.For a time, during which he was left by AntonioVieira in this position of the penitent sinner, Manuelseized the opportunity to savour with long draughtsthe of joys repentance, and to plunge into his lostfaith till itpenetrated through and permeated hiswhole spiritual being. He became another man,changed, restored to belief, and eager to re-enter theservice of the Eternal and of His Universal Church.Thus by every manner of sacrifice, which had now nohe hoped to redeem his sins and crimes, andterrors,to merit ultimate salvation.Walking with noiseless footsteps, the far-famedJesuit stood by his side and perceived that he wasabsorbed in celestial contemplation, fervently adoringand filled with pure and holy thoughts, whilst hiscountenance shone out its supernatural joy. Hesavoured the penitent's contrition ;he felt convincedthat the act of conscience was spontaneous and sincere,and that both Catholicism and the Company wouldgain much by this abjuration of apostasy.The Father was accustomed to witness similarscenes of heartfelt repentance and of the deepestdevotion suddenly inspired and following close uponhorrible careers of crime. He regarded them as thespiritual work of that Divine Providence which lovesto draw out of evil good, infinite and invaluable,which desires not the death of the sinner, but wouldrather show that the broken and contrite heart canfind forgetfulness, and even forgiveness of its offences,and which thus can save the wretches who, after the

102 MANUEL DE MORAES.mad course leading to destruction, arrest themselvesin time, and have recourse to its ineffable mercy.Had not St. Ignatius himself commenced his lifein the tumults and turmoil of scandalous misdeeds ?Had notmany an offender, suddenly converted bythe glorious works of the Fathers of the Company,enrolled themselves as disciples and become examplesof the choicest virtues? Had not the Institute attimes recruited to itself and obtained fresh splendourfrom wretches who had deemed themselves lost, andwhom a new life of self-sacrifice had enabled to seektheir own salvation and to do heroic and humanitarianservice for the Company ? After a life of vice, whichhad sunk her into the lowest misery, had not MaryMagdalen succeeded in becoming a canonised saintof the Church ?The Jesuit had too much experience to fear anydelusion in signs so expressive, and he was overprudentto neglect so propitious an opportunity ofrecovering for the Institute an intelligence of the firstorder, and a mind distinguished by great and goodlygifts.He aimed at something higher than triumphingover whole tribes of naked savages wandering in thebackwoods of the Brazil, and called by his voice intothe fold of the Church. He did not hold the Instituteto be especially intended for catechising and civilisingthe hordes of the American deserts, although even therethe disciples of St. Ignatius had excelled all othersof enthu-by exposing themselves, with the couragesiasm, to hunger and thirst, to persecution and torture,to the poisoned arrow and to the deadly tomahawk.Nor was itenough for him that they should,like Sao Francisco Xavier, the Apostle of India, winthe abjurations of Rajahs and of idolatrous Asiaticpeoples. A far loftier and nobler ambition exalted anddirected his efforts. He burned to see the Companyrise in prestige throughout Europe, boldly combating

PADRE ANTONIO VIEIRA. 103the schisms which split the Catholic Church, counsellingthe Civil Authorities, directing Emperors, andtaking charge of the Temporal Power and the marchof Governments.A true revolutionist, in politics as in religion, henever allowed his pen to rest from the task of propagatinghis plans, whilst from the pulpit he addressedthe Kings and Nobles, the Priests and laymen whocrowded to hear him preach, and to admire his portentouseloquence, his deep wisdom, and his variedknowledge. Convinced that the Company of Jesuswas the chosen instrument of the heavenly Churchand its earthly Head, he allowed himself no repose.He had made the temples of Bahia, of Lisbon, and ofRome re-echo to the harmonious sounds of his voice,and the Press groan under the uninterrupted task ofreproducing the periods which fell from his pen. Erenow he had been intrusted by Royalty with secretmissions to Rome, France, and Holland ; and, as aStatesman, he was engaged in negotiating allianceswith other foreign powers in favour of his own country,still threatened by the Spaniard.The fire of genius was in his words they burnedlike a consuming flame, they pierced like the sharpestponiard. They attracted, subdued, captivated thehearers' hearts, and at the same time filled them withenchantment. His style displayed all the closenessof logic, every nicety of grammar, every flower ofrhetoric ;it was at once individual and characteristic,correct and sublime, weighted with a prodigious fundof erudition and lightened by imagery the most appropriate,varied, and interesting.Padre Antonio Vieira, born l at Lisbon, brought up1Born February 6, 1608; died July 18, 1697. Almost aBrazilian by career. No great friend to other Jesuits, and ratherof a secular and political than of religious turn. A man of immensevanity, indiscreet of speech, violent in resentment, overbearingin manner. Great and patriotic withal. He brought

104 MANUEL DE MORAES.and educated at Bahia, with his mighty soul, sublimespirit, and extraordinary eloquence, with a framebroken to labour and fatigue, and with a courage whichnever feared the face of man, was justly deemed oneof the most singular combinations that the world eversaw. Half Portuguese and half Brazilian, half Religiousand half Civilian, half a Patriot and half a"Roman," he enjoyed throughoutlife the universalfame which he merited, and he bequeathed to posteritya name rendered illustrious by virtue, genius, and truegreatness.himself into trouble with the Inquisition because he said it wasbetter in Portugal to be Inquisitor than King. He was suspectedof having to do with the murder of Francisco Tolles de Meneze?,Alcaide Mor of Bahia. His portrait is in Varnhagen's " HistoriaGeral do Brazil,'' " 50. Translator's Note.

CHAPTER XLTHE NOVICE BIDS ADIEU TO HIS WIFE'SGRAVE.WE left Padre Antonio Vieira standing by the side ofManuel de Moraes and unwilling to disturb his raptdevotion. But when the opportune time came, heplaced himself before the penitent, gave him withawful solemnity the priestly benediction, and, kneelingby his side, he implored Divine mercy to receive backthe sheep that had so long strayed from it into the foldof the Church. Then rising, he said to Manuel in accentsthe most" impressive, Enter the Confessional,kneel before the Priest of thy God, and reveal all thyheart to him."Manuel obeyed. Long was the Confession, thoughonly a summary of the errors, the sins, and the crimesof thought, word, deed or pen, mortal or venial,of action and intention, of commission and omission,which had stained the renegade's career. It wasoften interrupted by abundant tokens of sorrow, byheart-broken sobs, and by floods of tears. His taskended, the Jesuit arose, fixed his eyes upon the altar,as one who asks advice or aid, and muttered prayerafter prayer. He then absolved his penitent ; imposedupon him the penance which was to usher in a changeof life. Presently, leaving Manuel in the oratory, heretired to a private room, deeply affected, but at thesame time satisfied with what had happened, andconscious of having won another triumph for theChurch.Manuel was once more a changed man. His

io6MANUEL DE MORAES.countenance wore an expression of settled sadness ;but he had recovered health of body by completerepose of heart and brain. The act of publishing hisrecantation, as Padre Antonio Vieira ordered, was tohim a new source of joy. Constant to his religiousduties, he lightened his inner man of the insupportableweight which before crushed him ;he brokewith the world around him ;he cut off all connectionwith former acquaintances, and from that moment theConfession, the Church, and the closet occupied allhis time. The Jesuit, who esteemed and already lovedhim, recommended writing a history of PortugueseAmerica, whose annals the penitent knew perfectly,with especial reference to its invasion and occupationby the Dutch, whose tongue was familiar to him, andwhose books he read with ease. He waited till theabjuration appeared complete,and then announcedto him the necessity of visiting Lisbon, there to obtainthe pardon of his Sovereign, leave to re-enter theCompany, and, with permission of the Provincial, tomake the object of his life the catechisation of thenative Brazilians."Thou must," said he, "reinstate thyself bothwith the Society and with the Government. In theBrazil thou wilt be exposed to excessive toil, to exceedingfatigue, to incessant danger, perhaps to acruel death, bound to the stake or by the piercing ofthe savage arrow. But thy sacrifices and thy gooddeeds shall pay the heavy debt of all thy sins a; merciful Deity will receive thee into His Divinearms. And not only will the Redskin Brazilians provethy steadfastness by calamity and bitter life, thouwilt suffer even more at the hands of the Europeansand their Creole descendants who, without onethought of religion or morality, live only to amassriches by capturing, plundering, and destroying thehapless Gentiles. At their head again are the colonialGovernors and authorities, insatiable persecu-

BIDS ADIEU TO HIS WIFE'S GRAVE. 107tors, tyrants, despots, for whom there is no law,human or divine ; these thou wilt have to confrontin the service of the Company and in the practice ofChristian virtue and of the dogmas and discipline ofthe Church. With heroic deeds of spirit and bodythou must efface the black pages with which thy giddyand ill-chosen career hath filled the volume of thydays. In one who returneth to the path of truth fromerrors and crimes, Faith and conscientious convictionswill not satisfy God; many serious sacrifices and thelifelong practice of virtue are indispensable beforethou canst purify thyself in presence of the Eternaland of thy neighbour. I also have crossed the desertand the virgin forest ;I have climbed the ruggedmountain, swum the roaring stream, and conqueredspace immense. I, alone, unarmed, trusting to thecross of Christ which hung around my neck, fortifiedby faith and onwards driven by the desire of doingmy best services to the Church, have found myselfface to face with savage tribes whose names are unknown.I have seen the bow drawn, the arrow shot,and the tomahawk with its horrible and frightful soughgrazing my hair. I have found myself bound to atree, stripped of my clothing, and made ready fordeath by torture. I have witnessed the dreadful oldwomen, thirsting for my blood, approach me with theircalabashes, smear my body with the red and blackcolours which show the sacrifice, and dance likefuries around me, writhing like serpents in hell, andhowling like the souls of the damned. By a miraclefrom Heaven, I survived to catechise many of thesemiserables, who were touched by my words at; myprayers they abandoned their wild ways and nomadand by my advice and exhortations they receivedlife,baptism and exchanged perdition, now and hereafter,for social life and the Faith of Christ. I founded manyvillages of these converts, who became as good Catholicsat*3 vassals as, nay, better than, the conquerors

io8MANUEL DE MORAES.of their country, the higher race of Europe. All thisI- did without feeling that the burden was heavy, thesacrifice severe. But the Portuguese adventurers,especially the Governors, Captains-general, authorities,and public employes of the metropolis, these wereyes, I own it the very touchstone of my patience andhumility. Such is the life of the Jesuit missionary.As a man, he belongeth to Humanity only by the spiritualtie, and to Society by his life of sacrifice. As apriest, he may not live in the repose of a cloister or inthe communion of his fellow-countrymen. He is theproperty of the wilds, of distant missions, of perils, ofthe lost Pagan souls, of an inglorious death in thebush or the swamp. His goods and his joys are notof this world. Remember Jose de Anchietta l andManuel da Nobrega. So pass thou throughlife fromearth to heaven amid the reefs and shoals which everoppose thy way, so as to prove thy devotion and topurify thy soul. Advance without bending the neck,without losing evangelic resignation, without renouncingpiety, without forgetting Christian charity, withoutdiscouragement, without looking behind thee. Assumea new garb and, returning to the Company ofJesus, ennoble and exalt thyself in the service of theChurch and in propagating her Faith by holy andglorious deeds. Such be the penance enjoined uponthy sins such the balsam which shall heal thy"remorse!Manuel took delight in hearing these narratives andcounsels of the distinguished and venerable speaker.The proposal also met his desires. His love and hissocial duties had ended with the passing away of theone human being who had so mightily enchanted andbewitched him. At times he visited the grave whichheld her mortal spoils, and with yearning heart andflowing eyes he strewed it with fresh flowers. But itdid not open to receive him his;heart now told him1The " Thaumatunrus of the Brazil." Translator's Note*

BIDS ADIEU TO HIS WIFE'S GRAVE. 109how fatal had been the hallucination which oncemastered all his senses, and which caused the deadlyfalling off from religion that had so terribly tormentedhis soul.Moreover, it presently so happened that Brodechevius,whose virtues and whose benefits had endearedhim as a father, could not survive the deathof Beatrix : a few months after the last adieu, hefollowed his daughter on the way of death. What nowremained to detain the penitent sinner in Holland ?The advice and the exhortations of Padre AntonioVieira sounded in his ears as another hope of conciliatinghimself with God and with His Church.When the Company once more should have openedher arms to him, would he not be able, by returningto her bosom, by dedicating himself to her service,and by going back to his country, to see once morehis beloved mother and family, to receive the parentalpardon, and to spend his latter days in a useful, beneficent,and holy life ?He had no terror of the toils and the sacrificeswhich might be reserved for him. He did not fearthe missionary's hard task, because it would exalthim in the love of God and fortify him in the beliefof the Catholic creed. And mightit not be his lotto win by his actions the remission of his sins, and toobtain mercy from on highHe ?prepared to leave the Netherlands for ever.Unable to travel by land, or to embark at any Frenchport on account of Spanish dominion in Belgium, hetook passage on a Dutch ship sailing for Rotterdam.Padre Antonio Vieira provided him with introductoryletters to the Provincial of the Jesuits in Portugal, tosome high functionaries and powerful nobles in Lisbon,and especially to Dom Francisco Manuel deMello. The Novice then took leave of his protector,who was obliged, in the service of his sovereign, tovisit Miinster.

noMANUEL DE MORAES.He would not, however, shirk the sad duty ofbidding the last farewell to her who in life had ruledhis heart and spirit,who had bewitched him to thepoint of losing his reason and of perilling his immortalsoul. He set out for Amsterdam, which recalled tohis mind the many events that began with seeminghappiness, presently to become pain and sorrow. Hewalked straight to the cemetery where stood the tombwhich he sought. It was adorned with a marblecolumn, surrounded by iron posts and chains and;it bore, in large gilt letters, the name of BEATRIX DEMORAES, with the dates of her birth and of her death.Pale roses blew around it ;a sombre cypress overshadedit with its thick and untrimmed growth, andsmall shrubs scattered about bore their melancholyblossoms.He was profoundly affected by the aspect of thetomb, by the silence which reigned around, and by thememories that started up from his soul. He drewnear it with respect, whilst the bitter tears burst inshowers from his eyes. lie threw himself upon hisknees, directed his prayers to God and, scatteringupon the grave the torn flowers and broken shrubswhich betokened his bereavement, he cried in theagony of his heart" Wife, loved and lost ! an unexpected fate broughtus together, a mad passion ensnared us, a crime sprangfrom our love ! we were the mutual cause of ourSo may Godcalamities, of thy death, of my misery.pardon us in the world of Eternity, whither thou hastalready passed, and where I shall not be slow tofollow thee ! God alone is "greatHe ! cast one last long look behind. He had doneall his duty. He had braved the cruel proof, and hehad found strength to withstand it.He then took ship at Rotterdam for Lisbon.When running down the dangerous channel whichseparates France from England, where the \vinds rage

BIDS ADIEU TO HIS WIFE'S GRAVE,inwith frightfuland continuous violence, the wavesthreatened more than once to cast the wretched craftashore. Before doubling Cape Finisterre, Manuelwas not spared by the Bay of Biscay, so celebratedfor its eternal gales the ; rushing billows, the dashingcurrents, and the furious blasts seemed bent upondestroying the frail galley and its imprudent inmates.The crew overcame every danger. But as the shipentered upon the ocean and was driven afar by theimpetuous east winds, the shores of Portugal seemedto retire. More than forty days had sped before thepeaks of Cintra hove in sight. They crossed theTagus bar with sprung masts and tattered sails, whilstrations and water were completely wanting. Righthappy were all when, running round the headland,they found themselves afloat upon the smooth surfaceof Father Tagus, off the fortresses that guarded thewatery way.Manuel de Moraes had to endure, when landing, aswas the custom of the age, endless inquiries and themost rigorous search. He then presented himselfto the Provincial of the Company who,after consuliingthe recommendatory letters of Antonio Vieira,received him with kindness and softness of manner,curiously dashed with surprise and even fear. Hardly,however, had two hours sped, when Familiars bearingthe insignia of the Holy Office and armed soldiersappeared at the gate of the Institute of St. Ignatius,and demanding admittance to the Provincial, filledthe cloisters and all the neighbourhood with alarm.When in presence of the venerable priest, they laidbefore him an order of the Tribunal demanding theperson of one Manuel de Moraes, who, lately arrivedfrom Holland, had taken sanctuary with the Company,a man charged with the crimes of abjurationand apostasy, and thus subject to the Inquisition.The Provincial held hasty conference with themost respectable ecclesiastics whom he could sum-

H2MANUEL DE MORAES.mon, touching the defence of his rights and thehonour of the Institute. All agreed upon one point,that the unheard-of order of the Inquisitional Tribunalwas an insult to the powers and privileges ofthe Company, but that the Provincial was not justifiedin resisting by force. They advised him to giveup the prisoner, and at once to protest before theSovereign and his Government to claim his ;penitentas a member of the Institute, and to judge him accordingto its rule. The order of the Holy Officewas obeyed. Manuel de Moraes left the house ofthe Company, and passed into the power of theInquisition.

ii 4MANUEL DE MORAES.guards, and casting his eye upon the gigantic statueof Faith which stood threatening at the summit of themain staircase, Manuel de Moraes felt a deadly coldrun through his veins, and his brain turn dizzy withfrightful thoughts inspired by the Genius of the place.He crossed sundry courts, all gloomy, even in thebright sheen of a Lisbon sun. He descended andascended several flights of steps, whose darkness wasonly half dispelled by the pale gleam of oil-lampshanging from the walls. He heard the hoarse andmelancholy sounds of heavy hinges that creaked andgroaned as their doors were opened and shut Within,he breathed a foul atmosphere which seemed theexhalation of corpses; the stones appeared to driphuman blood, and the moans of pain and woe echoedand resounded through the long vaulted passages.The Familiars all wore the same attire ;a large crossof yellow cloth stood out from each breast, and everyface was hidden in the folds of the hood. Theyflitted here and there like spectres or avenging demonsbound on their eternal errands of wrath and destruction.A lugubrious silence, an extraordinary horror, characterisedthis pandemonium ; all the precincts of theedifice were made to inspire terror, and the sensesof the wretches who entered there for the first timefailed them for unutterable fear.After many turnings and whispers exchanged bythe Guard and the Familiars, Manuel found himself ina bleak gallery where the way was barely shown by alamp glimmering in the centre. An iron door openedas ifby magic in one of the sides, and he was introducedinto a low-ceilinged cell, from which goodlylight and air were barred; it appeared less like aroom than a sepulchre hewn in the live and drippingrock. The door was bolted upon him as he enteredthe solitary dungeon, which could hardly have admittedtwo men together. Bed there was none, nor a

'u6MANUEL DE MORAES.How long he sleptto the bosom of the true Church.was uncertain, to him ; night was confounded withday in the continuous glimmer of the central lamp,nor was there even a greater or a less amount ofillumination in the persistent monotonous twilightwhich gloomed the rest of his solitaryHe cell.taught himself to expect the morning when,without the prison door being opened, a fresh crockof water and a hard dry loaf were thrust into his cellthrough an aperture contrived for such purpose inthe wall. At these times a hollow voice as from acavern would ask him to receive them, and to passout the empty water-pot the latter disappearing withthe same mysterious precautions. It was vain tospeak : no question was ever fated to obtain ananswer.He resolved to count the times when his supplieswere renewed, and thus to ascertain the number ofhis prison days. Already some forty had passed,when he heard the shuffling sound of steps and lowwhisperings exchanged outside the door these noiseswere louder than those to which his ear had becomeaccustomed." Now it is my turn," he said"to himself, or thatof some neighbour victimgoing to question and torture."A few minutes afterwards his door grated open.He rose and descried a figure covered in a long blackcloak.The entrance was again closed, and the twain foundthemselves so near together in the narrow space, thatthey were hardly able to raise hand or to make agesture." Thou art Manuel de Moraes ? " asked a mild andcomposed voice.The prisoner determined that he stood in presenceof one of the judges charged with examining andinterrogating him. The questioner's serene and almost

THE INQUISITION OF LISBON. 117kindly accents were decided to be a holy device, theInquisitors being well known to deceive their victimsby a show of pity; to induce by soft and deceitfulwords a mad confidence and confession of the mostsecret thoughts or false revelations and tales of imaginarycrimes invented merely to escape punishment.Resolving, however, to speak the truth and thewhole truth, be the result what itmight, and not to becozened by fallacies and fascinations, the Novice repliedto the cloaked figure in a resolute tone" Without doubt I am Manuel de Moraes.""And thy native country is the village of SaoPaulo, in the "captaincy of Sao Vicente of the Brazil ?continued the interrogator." It is true," repeated Moraes." Thou wast a Novice in the Company of Jesus ?Thou didst desert the Institute and cast off thecassock?" rejoined the other." I may not, I ought not, and I would not deny it,"ejaculated " the prisoner.And thou dost not recognise me ? " said the figure,placing himself in the glimmering ray shot athwart thegloom by the corridor lamp ; casting aside his cowl,and showing a face worn by years and clothed withthe whitest of beards, a head denuded of hair andthe soutane of the followers of St. Ignatius.Manuel examined him in vain. His eyes wouldnot distinguish the man who stood before him. Hesearched his mind for memories of the past. Not asingle idea would come to his aid."No, I cannot," he replied bitterly. After a fewmoments of silence and of visible anxiety, Manuelresumed, " Doubtless the holy Fathers would punishme for having fled their House, and thou art sent tomake these inquiries of me ? ""Banish from thy mind," answered the Jesuit," these fancies, which are mere foolishness. Our Companycounselleth,influenceth,convinceth by persuasion,

uSMANUEL DE MORAES.and by appeals to man's conscience. She doth notbind his will by physical force. She doth not chastisethe rebel and the criminal by the corporal punishmentsof confinement and torture. Almighty God isthe only Judge to whom she committeth the sins ofmortals. Thou art not imprisoned by order of theInstitute of St. Ignatius de Loyola. Thou art accusedby the Tribunal of the Holy Office. I cometo visit thee as thy friend and thy companion of bygonedays, after obtaining with much difficulty permissionto enter these dungeons."The words, slowly spoken and uttered with acertain unction and even affection, profoundly impressedthe unhappy Manuel, and inspired him witha conviction of their truth and candour. But whowas the man who addressed him ? The idea of notbeing able to recognise and to thank him workedtrouble in his brain." What, then, wouldst thou have of me ? " gentlyreturned the prisoner."I have lately arrived from Holland, bringingletters and recommendations from the venerable AntonioVieira, who saved thy soul from the precipiceof eternal perdition."" If thou be, as thou dost suggest, a Jesuit, thou wiltfind in the House of the Company the letters anddocuments which I left behind when the Familiarsof the Inquisition hurried me away from the sacredwalls.""Our Provincial hath taken charge of all," continuedthe visitor "sadly ; he hath forwarded to each one theletter directed to him, the better to enlist sympathiesin thy favour. Unhappily, and I must not conceal itfrom thee, all his efforts appear" fruitless."I see death before me " ! murmured the captive." I regret it cometh so soon, because I have not yetpurged myself of my great sins and crimes. I wouldlive long enough to perform the necessary penances

THE INQUISITION OF LISBON. 119and sacrifices. But the Lord hath heard my sincererepentance, and He will assuredly take pity upon myweakness.""Thou knowest not that thou art already condemned? " asked the voice." Condemned without being heard " ? ejaculatedManuel." Thou wast denounced as a heretic and apostateto the Holy Office in Lisbon ; the proceedings wereentered upon and the sentence was passed. Whilststill a refugee in Holland thou wast relaxed in effigyby the Act of Faith of April 6, 1643, and thy namewas inscribed amongst those condemned " to death."Doth naught then remain to me in this world ? "exclaimed Moraes." Then leave me during theshort remaining moments of life to pray in peace, thatthe Lord may grant to me His " endless mercy."Thus thou wast already a criminal, and, as such,subject to the Inquisition," continued the old man."When thou daredst come to Lisbon, relying upon anew abjuration, and upon the protection of the venerableAntonio Vieira, the Holy Office knew thee tobe an inmate of our House and claimed thee for itsjustice."" Whilst the Institute of St. Ignatius gave me upand left me ? " exclaimed Manuel, with visible signsof resentment." What can the Company of Jesus do against theInquisition ? " returned"the priest. They are whollydifferent from, nay, they are antagonistic to eachother. This is a temporal power, a civil tribunal ;with itsJudges, Guards, and Familiars, its trials, itsinstruments of torture, and its condemnations, topurify the faith and to keep inviolate the orthodoxyof Rome. That confmeth itself to things spiritual andand itsholy, charged only with spreading its lightsdoctrines over the world. With what difficulty it hathsaved the Brazilians from the Inquisition, which

120 MANUEL DE MORAES.would have extended itspower amongst them as inPortugal. The two Orders are separated by a greatgulf; they live in constant opposition. One wouldcut down and cast into the fire the tree which bearethbad fruit. The sons of St. Ignatius would heal theaffected part, and hasten to save the trunk and thesound branches which may still flow with sap andbear kindly food for the use of man."" At least send me," interrupted Manuel, " a Priest,a friend who may hear me confess, and may be withme during my last short pangs.""And what came /to do here ?" asked the Jesuitin a tone of hurt" feelings, wherefore have / mademy way amongst these gloomy vaults, had I not beenespecially charged by our Provincial and permittedby the Holy Office to see thee, to speak with thee,and to treat thee as a member of the Companywhich, like Jesus, never abandoneth its disciples ? "" "O thanks ! O thanks ! cried Moraes, falling atthe Father's feet and fervently kissing them." Rise, my son," continued the figure, assisting thepenitent to stand up, and clasping him in his arms ;" it is not yet time for confession or for the last preparations.At present I am but a friend who wouldconsole thee ;so give me all thy confidence it will; be enough for thee to remember who I am to call tomind the past."Manuel perceived by the ear rather than the eyethat these words were pronounced amidst repressedsobs, and that a flood of bitter tears coursed down thecheeks of his unknown friend.But despite every effort, his memory failed to findany clue by which he might recall to himself thattime-worn figure, that venerable head, those softattractive accents, and those kindly gestures, which,nevertheless, left him in no doubt of his visitor'ssincerity.For a few instants there was a painful silence, which

THE INQUISITION OF LISBON. 121neither of the men chose to break ;it was ended bythe unknown, who, impressing a paternal kiss uponthe brow of the younger man, asked him in a clearsonorous " voiceAnd still canst thou not remember me ? "But Manuel's thoughts were entangled in the meshedskein of his wandering and erring life ;he could hitupon no recollection which could tear the veil hangingdark before his eyes." Behold," continued the voice, speaking slowly, thebetter to arouse his companion's memory, " beholdon the summit of yon myrtle-dotted hill-slope theHoly House of the Company of Jesus, with its hollowsquare, its adjoining chapel, and its strong low tower.By its side clusters a village of whitewashed and redtiledhouses and huts thatched with yellow grass, formingcrooked streets and alleys, which, like the stepsof a staircase, run up and down the ridge of red clay.See on the other side the enclosure of fruit-bearingtrees, the orange, the guava, and the cashew apple,from whose boughs the Sabia-thrush and the paintedparroquet salute the newly-born dawn, the departingday, and the power and majesty of Him who madethem. Remark below the enclosure, which extendsto the hill-foot, the rivulet, here flowing limpid andserene, there bubbling over its pebbly bed, and bedewingthe wild-flowers which spring from its fairgreen marge. Cast thy sight still farther upon thoseimmense forests glooming the plain, where the greatriver Tiete' rolls his waters, and where the uplands ofthe Penha, bluer than the atmosphere, bound thesplendid amphitheatre. Breathe the air perfumed bythe leaves and flowers which kindly Zephyr gentlywaves to and fro ; by the blossoms which the parenttree never casts to lie in the sad decay of a Europeanautumn. Mark the copper-coloured crowds that fillthe temples, that pray so devoutly, that form religiousprocessions, and that respect and obey the Fathers

122 MANUEL DE MORAES.of the Company. What village is this which thymemory paints, if thine eyes behold it no more ? Andnow canst thou not recollect me ? "" " "O God, my Lord ! cried Moraes, what woundsthis priest teareth open, and yet I cannot for my life"remember him !" There, on a hill-top, lay quiet and retired thesmall white house with its red-tiled roof," continued"the figure. In it lived one Jose de Moraes and hisfamily. God called him away before he could pardonhimself for the imprudent haste with which he drovea son from his door.""Then my father is dead! O unhappy again!"Enough interrupted Moraes. " Take ! pity uponme, and, for mercy's sake, tell me who thou art "!"Still thou hast not discovered me?" asked theFather. "How beset is thy spirit by the terrible delusionsof thy misspent, erring life !Remember, my'son, one who said to thee, Thou wilt be wretched !The Catholic Church is the Divine reason, the soleSalvation of Mankind ;there can be no rest for himwho abandoneth her, and who plungeth into the5 "depths of this world of woe." " Eusebio de Monserrate ! exclaimed Manuel witha fresh burst of grief. He caught the old man in hisarms and, suddenly losing his senses, he fellupon thecold floor of his dungeon.

( 123 )CHAPTER XIII.THEFATHER Eusebio de Monserrate walked straightfrom the palace of the Inquisition to the House of theCompany, where he sought the presence of his Provincial.He related, word for word, what had passed betweenhim and Manuel de Moraes, expressing the firmestconviction of the penitent's sincerity, and hoping thatthe stray sheep, once more received into the fold ofSt. Ignatius, would be no small gain both to Religionand to the State.As regards the purpose of the dread Tribunal, hepersistently asserted his belief that the sentencepassed during the criminal's absence would be carriedout, and that the wretch would not be spared atthe first Act of Faith performed by the Inquisition.He dwelt upon the necessity of employing all meansto save the Novice, by claiming him as subject to theCompany's jurisdiction and a fugitive from her cloisters.And, in order to tear him from the grasp of theHoly Office, he suggested that interest be made withall manner of men, Ministers, public functionaries, andNobles, Jesuits, Bishops, and the high officers of theChurch. It was necessary to secure the co-operationof the many in order to invoke with success theauthority of the King and the Queen.The two Fathers determined to visit all their friendsand those for whom Manuel had brought letters fromFather Antonio Vieira. To the latter the Provincial

124 MANUEL DE MORAES.wrote a summary of what had happened, and impressedhim, in urgent terms, with the necessity of leaving nomeasure untried, especially by a missive directed tothe Sovereign, and imploring a personal favour.Within a few days many men in power were inducedto undertake the cause of Manuel de Moraes.Amongst the most influential were the Confessor ofthe King and Queen, Duarte Nunes de Leao, and theChief Justice of the Tribunal of Supplication, JoaoPinto Ribeiro, private secretary of the Monarch.Unhappily, Dom Francesco Manuel de Mello couldlend no aid, having himself lost his liberty.Nonewould have been of more avail when he first arrivedat Lisbon : he was equally distinguished by the powerof his pen and by the services which his sword hadrendered in the Brazil, in Flanders, and in Catalonia,and by his patriotic sentiments in favour of Portugueseliberty and nationality. He had sacrificed wealth andhonours in Spain, exposing himself to the persecutionof the Governors of Castile, from whose dungeons hehad escaped by buying off his jailers. But, on hisreturn, to Portugal, he was drawn into an unhappyquarrel at Belem with one Francesco Cardoso, whomhe killed in a moment of anger. For this offence hehad been imprisoned, and expecting his trial, he wascompelled to think more of his own safety than ofsaving another.The King and the Queen found themselves surroundedby prayers and petitions to save Manuel deMoraes. Dom Joao IV., whose authority was notyet solidly established in Portugal, hesitated to interposehis prerogative in a case completely within thejurisdiction of the Holy Office. He had risen to athrone during the storm of a revolution. He hadwon a crown by a patriotic movement, unanimousamongst the people, but he counted a bare majorityamongst the Clergy and the Nobility. At every momenthe was compelled to put down reactionary move-

THE INQUISITION "QUESTION." 125ments, and the risings of those who preferred obeyingSpain to ranging themselves on the side of Portugaland freedom. He was often obliged severely tochastise the titled classes, and even the Bishops, whoplotted against him. The power of Castile wouldhave still been too great for Lusitania, had not theformer happily been occupied with crushing otherinsurgents in various parts of her wide dominions ;and thus her numerous hosts, divided and dispersed,could not strike the one decisive blow.Not the less, however, was Dom Joao compelled toadminister his Kingdom with the greatest moderation,and to avoid increasing the difficulties and dangerswhich from all sides rose up around him. What thenmattered the life of a Jesuit Novice compared with theanger and resentment of the Holy Office, which atthat time influenced so powerfully the popular mind,and which lent its aid to his national governmentHe ?knew that his own Hidalgos and highest Ecclesiasticstook a pride in belonging to the Inquisition,and even in servingit as Familiars. He was wellaware also that the people trembled before all itsactions and judgments, deeming them Divine ratherthan human.With more policy than sentiment or justice, theKing avoided answering the applications of his mostdevoted friends and his chosen councillors. Althoughsincerely attached to and thoroughly confiding in hisQueen, Dona Luiza de Guzmao, who had taken partwith the Jesuits, he would not in this case lend anear to her words.Eusebio de Monserrate had guessed rightly that,without the direct intervention of the sovereign, allefforts would be of no avail. The dread authority ofthe Holy Office at that time overshadowed the heartof Portuguese society.None would dare, none had the power to brave itwith impunity save the King in person, byvirtue of

126 MANUEL DE MORAES.his individual prestige, and by the acknowledged neces-'sity of supporting his efforts to free the country againstthe forces of Castile.Scattered in every direction were the spies of theInquisition, who hastened to pervert every thought,word, and deed into something which might be reportedto the execrable Tribunal. It seemed asthough the walls had ears, the furniture had eyes, andthe very air could read the deepest secrets of the soul.The best-hidden plans found their way to the HolyOffice, and the latter never hesitated or delayed tosend warrants for persons, to institute proceedings, topronounce rigorous sentences, to administer punishment,and to raise the gibbet and the stake. Thusthe Lieges, a superstitious multitude, were terrifiedby the horrible spectacles of the Acts of Faith, andwere taught to look upon them as sacraments of theChurch.No class, no condition of man, could escape thisinfernal jurisdiction. It was the only judicial tribunalbefore which disappeared all rights and privileges,which bent before itsmight old men and young,women and children, householders and proletaires,workmen and merchants, seculars and regulars, noblesand the high officials of the Church, even the ministersand the confidants of the Monarch.Yet did not Father Eusebio despair of success inhis labour of love. As new and greater obstaclesrose in his path, as his projects were defeated andbrought to nothing, so he applied his spirit the moreardently to seek new measures which should commandsuccess. His bosom was fired with theamour propre of the Jesuit, who would not tamelyput up with the affront which the Inquisition hadoffered to the Company, by seizing from it a Noviceand a member in order to try and to condemn him.Furthermore, he was moved by the love and sympathywhich Manuel, when yet a youth, had won from him.

THE INQUISITION "QUESTION." 127These were two powerful reasons, to which wasadded another of equal importance for the priest.Had not the Novice's repentance been sincere ?Was he not ready to undergo any discipline, orpenance, or act of contrition imposed upon him ?Could he not contribute important service to Religion,to the Company, to the State, and to the Gentiles ofthe Brazil? Had not the Lord pardoned him whenhis spirit spontaneously conceived the idea of abandoningwealth and rank in Holland, to reassume thesoutane of the priest, to seek the laborious andmiserable life of the missionary, to return to hisformer faith and religious belief, like the lost sheepwhich regains the fold, like the prodigal son whoseeks his father's home ? And when God had shownHimself so merciful, was it for Man to insist uponstrict justice, upon harsh condemnation, upon thedeath of the sinner?Meanwhile the Tribunal had entered upon theprisoner's case. After revising the proceedings institutedduring his absence, and annexing to them asummary, the Holy Office proceeded to the necessaryexamination of the offender, who during six successivedays was taken from his dungeon to the Hallof the Judges. At first, insinuating questions andsubtleties, carefully and purposely prepared, were addressedto him, with the object of detecting contradictions,and of extracting the required confession.The captive, however, maintained an unaltered demeanour,serene and composed, as his words weretruthful and serious. He frankly related all the factsof his life, all his errors and hallucinations, all his sinsand crimes. Nor was he more reticent about hisremorse, and the spontaneous repentance which hisown soul had conceived, had brought forth, and hadheld up publicly and frankly before the eyes of men.The judges, persuaded that they would obtain moreinformation concerning matters which better suited

128 MANUEL DE MORAES.their designs by applying the usual question, passedfrom voluntary declarations to those torn from thevictim by torture. They began with the "littleangels " (anjinhos), a soft, endearing name, derisivelygiven to ironthumb screws which, with horrible sufferings,crush the fingers and the toes. They determinedthat the penitent should confess a false and maliciousreturn to Catholicism, in order that he might passover to the Brazil and aid his former associates, theHollanders, in invading and conquering America.Manuel nobly endured these barbarities, whilst withtearful eyes he called upon the holy name of Christ,who in bearing the sins of the world had sufferedagonies still more terrible than his own.The judges, thus disappointed, adjourned to afuture opportunity the appliance of other instruments.They intimated, however, to Manuel that it would bebetter for him to confess the truth of his own free will,than to have it torn from him by the most dreadfulsufferings.The Holy Office was not wont to hurry its proceedingsor its judgments. Whole years were spent in itsdungeons, without the Tribunal moving to do themjustice, by the innocent as well as the guilty, by menfalsely accused or merely suspected, and often withoutthe slightest proof of criminality. Not contented withfacts, and with seeking to divine thoughts and motives,itsought to gain time, whilst the victims were surroundedby the most vigilant espionage which sawand heard everything they did and said. One forrefusing to eat a bit of pork on a certain day, anotherfor some chance expression of rage or resentment,this for a gesture or action maliciously interpreted,that for not blessing himself or praying at the canonicalhours all such trifles served as inductive proofsto establish a crime which rested only in the imaginationof the Holy Office.The interrogatories and the first tortures were fol-

THE INQUISITION "QUESTION." 129lowed by the evidence of witnesses, who deposedthat, according to the general voice, Manuel had becomeconverted to Calvinism, had worshipped inProtestant temples, and had married a schismaticwoman. Desirous of obtaining ampler confessions,the Familiars again applied questions to the accused.His neck was enclosed in a " gonilha," or ring madefast to the wall ;and thus he was made to stand ontiptoe in a cramping and almostsuffocating position,a torment more terrible than any barbarity imaginedby the tyrants of the Middle Ages.They then lashed his sides and chest with scourgesof metal wires, which covered him with blood. Butthe victim, superior to physical pain, was resigned tohis fate : he constantly repeated the same declaration,and he supplied no new elements of doubt or of suspicionto his cruel judges. Finally, he was stretchedon the bed of Procrustes, a board bristling with spikes:here he fainted as if dead, after losing blood whichescaped from every pore.They then carried him back to his dungeon, placedhim upon a mat somewhat softer than usual, andtreated him with the greatest care. Their object wasto prevent his escaping by death from the public andexemplary chastisement prepared for him by the HolyOffice.His sentence, when passed, confirmed that of theyear 1643. The heretic was doomed to appear at thegreat Act of Faith, covered with the infamous insigniaof fire, and to be garotted in the public square as anapostate and an obstinate professor of a false faith.The report of this resolution soon came to theJesuits' ears, and the Fathers were filled with despairand with the liveliest resentment.All redoubled their zeal in urging on their friends,and in devising means to arrest the decree of thedread Tribunal. They applied themselves more

I 3 oMANUEL DE MORAES.urgently than ever to obtain from the King a signmanualin favour of the wretched Novice.But all was in vain. The letters of Antonio Vieira,the ghostly counsels of their Majesties' Confessor, theopinions of the Secretaries of State and of the highofficer called "Escrivao da Puridade," the supplicationsand the interest made by the Nobles whom theSovereign most delighted to honour, nothing wouldinduce the King to shake off the reserve which he hadchosen to assume.Eusebio de Monserrate at length devised a happyplan. Visiting a sister of the Novice, a certain DonaClara da Incarna9ao, the widow of a Portuguese, whohad transferred her residence from Sao Paulo to Lisbon,he prepared her to throw herself with her children atthe feet of the King and the Queen, and to imploretheir mercy for her miserable brother. With theCourt Confessor he arranged an opportunity at thefirst time when Dom Joao and Dona Luiza were proceedingto the Oratory for the purpose of receiving theSacraments.When the moment came, Dona Clara and her youngfamily were introduced into the palace by a privatedoor, and she found herself on the very passage ofthe Sovereigns." "Mercy! !mercy cried with one voice the suppliants,falling at the feet of the King and his Consort,seizing the hems of their garments, and bedewing themwith copious and bitter tears.All the suite were melted with pity. Dom Joao,profoundly moved, could not utter a word.The weeping Queen hastened to console the unhappysister, who placed in the royal hand a petitionhumbly praying for pardon of the penitent. It was atouching, a heart-rending scene.The royal Confessor reminded his Majesty thatGod is infinite in His compassion, and that earthly

THE INQUISITION "QUESTION." 131sovereigns have no higher prerogative, and none moregrateful to Heaven, than that mercy which comparestheir functions with those of the Deity. Dona Luizapromised the heart-broken family all her efforts, andbegged them to retire and to be comforted.After this scene the Monarch could no longer turna deaf ear to the prayers of his Consort, or allow herto fail in keeping her word. He directed his " Escrivaode Puridade " to claim summarily and peremptorilyfrom the Holy Officeof Manuel dethe personMoraes, who had obtained the royal pardon ;and hecommanded that the latter be delivered, as a memberof the Institute, to the Society of Jesus, in order thathe might incur the pains and penalties judged properby his Superiors.This order was at once transmitted with the royalsign-manual to the Inquisitor-General; and it wasintimated that he was expected to render implicitobedience, with his well-known zeal in the service ofhis God and his King.Still Eusebio de Monserrate was not without anxiety.Would the Judges of the Holy Office obey the com-Could they not hold themselves superior tomand ?all temporal authority, taking their prerogative uponthe briefs and decisions of the High Pontiff of Rome ?Might they not reply to the King by reminding himthat it was necessary to purge the Catholic faith andto save her creed ;and would the Monarch persist incarrying out an order which had been obtained fromhim rather by sentiment than by conviction, whichcame from the heart rather than from the head ?

( '32 )CHAPTER XIV.THE LAST SCENETHE NOVICE'S DEATH.MEANWHILE the Tribunal of the Holy Office of Lisbonresolved upon, and publicly announced, an Act ofFaith to take place upon the i5th of December 1647.Eight condemned criminals were to be burnt at thestake ;ten were reserved for the punishment of thegarotte ; thirty-four were sentenced to walk in theProcession bearing the insignia of fire, and three were11relaxed " in effigy, being absent or having been ableto escape.The announcement of this barbarous spectacle filledthe Lisbonese with excitement and apparent joy. Nonewould dare to absent himself from a solemnity so sacredand profitable to the soul, from an Act which remittedsins, and which had power with the Almighty to openfor believers the gates of Heaven, and to lead themby the Indulgences gained on such occasions to Salvationand Life Eternal. And though some Jews mayhave had their doubts touching the Divine nature ofthe sacrifice, who would risk persecution and perhapstorments, dreadful as those allotted to the condemned,in case of not being present or of not appearing fullof gladness ?The scaffold and stakes were prepared in the greatSquare, the Campo de Santa Anna. Those doomedto figure in the ceremony were duly warned. Somewere allowed interviews with confessors chosen bythemselves, and were to receive privilegedone ormore members of their families with whom they

THE NOVICE'S DEATH. 133desired a last melancholy adieu. All the condemnedwere transferred to especial prisons under the civilauthorities, there to pass the remainder of the termto which they had been sentenced in the palace ofthe Holy Office. Thus they were made over "tobe relaxed," as the phrase was, by the secular arm ;for the Inquisition only sentenced to death, and wasnever guilty of shedding Man's life-blood.To Manuel was announced his punishment, deathby the garotte, and he was also indulged with the permissionto choose a Ghostly Father, and to be visitedby one of his relations. He named Padre Eusebio deMonserrate to accompany him during his last moments,and his sister, Dona Clara, to receive his last farewell.Both these requests were granted. It is not possibleto describe the meeting between the brotherand sister. Manuel, physically broken down, cruellytortured by the wounds of the terrible instrumentswhich had entered into his flesh, with hair and beardturned grey-white long before Time had touched theirnatural colour, was morally crushed by losing the hopeof a long penitential career, pleasing to God and usefulto the world of men.Time and toil, travel and trouble, mental tortureand bodily torments had so changed his appearance,that Dona Clara did not recognise her brother tillrepeatedly assured that Manuel de Moraes was standingbefore her. They embraced tenderly, and murmuredwords of affection and endearment, broken bymany a sob and by floods of scalding tears. Theyspoke of their parents, now no more ;of their sistersand of their relations still living at Sao Paulo of the;family, that had changed its abode to Lisbon of their;birthplace of the old;house, their once happy home,and of the scenes and adventures of their youth.They thus revived memories which affected theirhearts with intolerable yearnings the :joys of the pastmade their present misery appear by contrast onlymore hopeless and profound.

I 3 4MANUEL DE MORAES."My myexcellent father !adored, my saintedmother!" repeated Manuel. "Ye are both in thebosom of Eternity and in the presence of your God. Ina little while shall your unhappy son leave this worldto meet you there. Pardon him ! O pardon one whoadded so much to your unhappiness on earth, but who"has also himself loved much and suffered much !The interview outlasted an hour. Its result wasnecessarily to prostrate still more the strength of theunhappy Novice. He would not lose sight of hissister till the Familiars of Holy Office compelled herto retire, and removed him from the terrible palaceof the Inquisition.It was now the turn of Padre Eusebio de Monserrate,who presented himself in the character ofGhostly Father and chosen Confessor of the mancondemned to die. He related to his penitent thecommands of the King, not concealing at the sametime his apprehension, which now appeared but toowell founded, that the Tribunal would ignore them ;and he was the less hopeful inasmuch as to the presentmoment he could not find that the Judges hadeven deigned a reply. He warned his young companionof former years that the fatal day appointedfor the Act of Faith was fast approaching. He endedby assuring the Novice that it would be better forhim to prepare for meeting his God by opening allhis soul to his Priest, and by receiving full Absolution,so as to pass into Eternity with soul tranquil and preparedby the Holy Sacraments.Manuel prostrated himself before his Confessor andfriend. He frankly revealed all the worldly hopesand the ambition which had deluded his spirit, thesins and crimes which he had committed during hiswanderings from the fold, and the thoughts whichpossessed his soul at that solemn moment. Bothknelt, rigid in prayer, before the sacred Cross whichsymbolised the martyrdom of the Son of God. Finally,the priest accorded to his penitent the consolation

THE NOVICE'S DEATH. 135of absolution, and recommended him to the mercyof the Most High.It was already the morning before the Act of Faithwas to take place. The Holy Office had taken nostep to answer the order forwarded to it in favour ofManuel " by the royal Escrivao de Puridade." TheProvincial of the Jesuits still exerted all his influenceto secure obedience for the command. At length,however, as all the preparations for the horrid ceremonyhad been duly made, it was bruited abroad thatthe Inquisition would not dare to despise the pardongranted by the King, however exceptional and irregular.The Judges determined to obey the royalcommands after sending forth Manuel de Moraes tothe Act of Faith as a heretic, bearing the insignia offire, and making him take part in the procession preparatoryto the execution of their sentences.The fatal day at length dawned. With the firstrays of light the citizens hung the houses along thestreets and squares, through which the victims wereto pass, with damask counterpanes, crosses, crucifixes,and images of saints, candles burning before them.The ground, which at that time was not paved, borestrews of leafy branches. The Oratories, scatteredabout the thoroughfares, glittered with cierges andlamps, with bouquets and strings of flowers. Thebells of all the Temples incessantly rang forth theirjoy, saluting the triumph of the Catholic Church,which, by chastising the bad and by terrifying theturbulent and the hard of belief, was saving the trueFaith of Christ. The soldiery defiled to their variousposts about the Largo de Santa Anna, carefully preventingall, except those of the cortege, from penetratingwithin the circle reserved for the work of thegallows and the stake.Heaps of dry faggots and loose straw, and scaffoldserected by their side, terrified the eyes of the vulgar.Familiars with cowled heads and masked faces, andwrapped in the cloaks of the Holy Office, upon whose

136 MANUEL DE MORAES.breasts shone the large cross, surrounded in crowdsthese instruments of the last cruelty.At the appointed hour the King and Queen, followedby their Secretaries and Councillors of state, andby the whole throng of Courtiers, took their places, aswas the superstitious practice of the age, in a balconyfronting the scene. Everywhere fluttered and ran fromplace to place, each one praying and blessing himselfwith no littlenoise and excitement, an immense crowdof the populace. The mob is never wanting at anyspectacle of public mourning or rejoicing.And now the artillery of the Arsenals, the Fortresses,and the Fleet roared their salutes. Again the bellsof the Churches rang a merry chime, and picturesquebouquets of fireworks rose high in air, splitting intoa thousand lines and points of light, and burstingwith the noise of bombs. It was the signal thatthe Auto da Fe had set out from the Palace inthe Largo do Rocio, and was proceeding to its destination,according to the rigid etiquette prescribedin such matters. The van was formed by the Familiarsof the Holy Office, mounted, weaponed, andcarrying black banners spangled with red flames, theemblems of the blood-stained Tribunal. Followedthem Priests and Friars of different orders, with headsuncovered and reciting lugubrious prayers. Footguards,carrying harquebusses, swords, and long daggers,masked and in the habit of the Inquisition,surrounded the numerous victims. These were boundto one another ; all walked barefoot, and their headsand faces were hidden in black hoods powdered withbright flames, whilst two eyeholes completed the disfigurement.Next walked the members of the Holy Office, precedingand surrounding the Inquisitor-General, whowas shaded by a canopy ; they were escorted by morethan two hundred Familiars, amongst whom, accordingto tradition, were Hidalgos and Nobles of the firsthouses in the realm, Magistrates and high function-

THE NOVICE'S DEATH. 137aries, Capitalists and Merchants, Traders and menof all classes and conditions of society.The rear of the procession was brought up by aCorps of Cavalry, with band and timbrels which neverceased playing.The Procession to the Act of Faith halted in frontof all the Oratories and the images of Saints whichstood upon its passage, and thus a considerable timeelapsed before it arrived at the Largo de Santa Anna.The banners were flown and the drums ruffled.Each member of the cortege took the place allottedto him. A crier read aloud the list of those condemnedto the stake and to the garotte, and of thepenitents sentenced to be presentat the execution.Amongst the latter was the name of the unhappyManuel de Moraes, spared capital punishment by theespecial grace of Dom Joao. An ecclesiastic thenoffered up a prayer to Heaven ; all around him reverentlykneeling and intercedingfor the souls whichwere about to leave this world.The last orders were given. The victims condemnedto the flames mounted the pyres by ladders,and were bound to wooden stakes planted in themidst of the faggots. Fire applied to the straw at oncespread to the whole pyre. Arose a pitchy cloud ofsmoke licked by tongues of flame, and every ear shrankfrom the screams and shrieks and moans of unutterableanguish, which ceased only when the wretchesdisappeared in a sheet of consuming fire.To this succeeded the more merciful penalty of thegarotte. The hangman, by one turn of the winch,instantly strangled and dislocated the necks of theless guilty. Their mortal remains, however, were castupon the still burning piles, that the condemnedmight all be confounded in one common doom.Lastly, a Procession of the pardoned penitentswalked round the stakes and the gallows. Most ofthem were supported by the Familiars and the ser-

138 MANUEL DE MORAES.vants of the Holy Office they had no longer strength'to drag their limbs along.At the end of the ceremony the Court returned tothe Palace of the Inquisition.Immediately on passing through the principal portalsof the edifice, the Inquisitor-General gave ordersthat Manuel de Moraes should be taken from amongstthe penitents and be restored to the Jesuits: thelatter had gathered there in numbers to receive himand to escort him to the house of St. Ignatius.The transfer was ceremoniously made ;a documentwas drawn up, and duly signed byall the authoritiesconcerned in the matter. The penitent, being unableto stand, was placed upon a bench of stone tillthe formalities were ended.When Padre Eusebio de Monserrate drew near totake his friend's arm, to raise him and to lead himforth from the palace of the Holy Office, Manuel,after attempting to rise, slipped from the kindly grasp,sunk upon the bench, and then fell to the ground.The Jesuit hastened to tear open his mask andclothes. He found that they contained a corpse.Manuel de Moraes no longer lived the life of thisworld.Eusebio de Monserrate then knelt by the body andcried in anguish, " O Lord ! O Lord ! receive into Thybosom this repentant sinner, and pardon with Thineinfinite mercy one who, if he has greatly offended Thee,hath suffered so much at the hands of Man."FINIS.PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.EDINBURGH AND LONDON.,

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