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CoLorapo CoLtece Posuication

Language Series 18 No.. 26 Vol. Il, Pp. 29-40

 

 

 

 

THE EVOLUTION OF MAETERLINCK’S
DRAMATIC THEORY

E. C. HILLS

 

 

COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO
APRIL, 1907

Published by authority of the Board of Trustees of Colorado College every six weeks

during the Academic year.

 

Entered as second class matter, September 23, 1905, at the Post Office at Colorado Springs,
Colorado, uuder Act of Congress for July 16th, 1904.

EY.
Page
Missing
in Printing
Page
Missing
In Printing
THE EVOLUTION OF MAETERLINCRK’S
DRAMATIC THEORY.

E. C. Hints.

Maurice Maeterlinck is still only in middle life,—he was
born in 1862; but he has already written much of value;
lyric verse, drama, philosophical essays, and descriptions of
animal and plant life.

In his earliest writings he gave ey ewes of being, like
Verlaine and Mallarmé, a symbolist. He was in revolt
against realism, and he portrayed the mystic beauties of the
human soul largely by means of allusion and allegorical
legend. In philosophy he was a mystic and fatalist, who
held man to be the plaything of invisible, malevolent forces
that it were useless to resist; and in the drama he was an
admirer and devoted follower of Shakespeare.!

Maeterlinck is still a symbolist ;2 but in the drama he owes
: allegiance to Ibsen rather than to Shakespeare. In his phil-
osophical beliefs he has been influenced largely by the trans-
cendentalism of Emerson and the stoic ethics of Marcus
Aurelius. He is still a mystic, but his gloomy fatalism has
been succeeded by the cheerful self-confidence of one who
believes that man may largely control destiny through the
exercise of wisdom and love.

In making a study of Maeterlinck’s drama, it is interest-

1 The influence of Shakespeare is seen most in La Princesse Maleine: note the
Nurse, the Fool, the murder scene, the coarse jesting, etc.

2 Probably the more prominent leaders of contemporary French symbolism
have been Maurice Maeterlinck, Jean Moreas, Stuart Merrill and Jean Psichari.
It is inteteresting that none of these is French.
30 Conorapo CoLLFce PuBLicaTION.

ing to note the evolution of the author’s philosophical ideas
and dramatic theories and the growth of skill in dramatic
composition. The first dramas are the creation of his youth.
They contain wildly romantic and highly improbable scenes.
In the first of all, Ja Princesse Maleine, but in no other,
there are attempts at coarse jesting. Of real humor there
is none, and the leading motif is terror. The characters are
often of childlike simplicity and have an odd way of repeat-
ing what others have said. Of this Maeterlinck himself has
said, speaking of these first “little dramas,” as he somewhat
condescendingly calls them: “It would have been easy to
suppress much perilous simplicity of speech and act, some
useless scenes, and many of the astonished repetitions that
give the characters the appearance of somnambulists who are
a little deaf and are being continually awakened from a pain-
ful dream.”+

Some light is thrown on this naive parallelism by Alfred
Sutro in the introduction to his translation of Wisdom and
Destiny. “His environment,” he says, “ * * helped to
give a mystic tinge to his mind. The peasants who dwelt
around his father’s house always possessed a peculiar fasci-
nation for him. He would watch them as they sat by their
doorway, squatting on their heels, as their custom is—grave,
monotonous, motionless, the smoke from their pipes almost
the sole sign of life. For the Flemish peasant is a strangely
inert creature, his work once done—as languid and lethargic
as the canal that passes by his door. There was one cottage
into which the boy would often peep on his way home from
school, the home of seven brothers and one sister, all old,
toothless, worn—working together in the daytime at their
tiny farm; at night sitting in the gloomy kitchen, lit by one
smoky lamp,—all looking straight before them, saying not
a word; or when, at rare intervals, a remark was made,
taking it up each in turn and solemnly repeating it, with per-

1 Preface to Vol. 1 of Theatre, p. I.
MAETERLINCK’S DraMatic THEORY. 31

haps the slightest variation in form. It was amidst influ-
ences such as these that his boyhood was passed.”

Of the earlier dramas, several have much in common.
The incidents and the characters differ, but the setting is
often the same: an ancient, gloomy castle of king or queen,
situate in a dark forest of immense trees, and near the sea of
which one catches glimpses now and then. And in the gloomy
old castle are long, dark halls opening into silent rooms, and
under it all are subterranean caverns filled with stagnant, ill-
smelling water, and alive with loathsome creatures whose ac-
tivity threatens even to undermine the castle walls; and into
this abode of gloom comes a young person, a child or inno-
cent woman, and meets death. And the approach of death is
heralded by nature,—by rain and hail and lightning flashes,
by strange comets and falling stars.1

Of this general type are Ja Princesse Maleine (1889) ,—
“this savage little legend of the misfortunes of Maleine,” as
Maeterlinck once called it;! les Sept Princesses (1891);
Pelléas et Mélisande (1892); Alladine et Palomides, la
Mort de Tintagiles (1894); and, to some extent,
A glavaine et Sélysette (1896). In an analysis of his own
plays, Maeterlinck has said: “The motif of these little
dramas was the fear of the unknown * * * . There was

1 As an illustration of extreme parallelism, note the following passage:

Maleine—I see the lighthouse!
Nurse—You see the lighthouse?
Maleine—Yes, I think it is the lighthouse.
Nurse—But, then, you ought to see the city.
Maleine—I donot see the city.
Nurse—You do not see the city?
Maleine—I do not see the city. S .
(La Princ’sse Maletne, Act I, Scene IV.)
1 Note the following passage:

Stephano—Again the comet of the other night!

Vanox—It is enormous.

Stephano—It seems to be pouring blood upon the castle.

Here a shower of stars seems to fall upon the castle.) é
Vanox—The stars are falling on thecastle! Look! Look! Look!
Stephano—I never saw such a shower of stars! | You would say Heaven
wept. * ¥ * * *
Vanox—The sky is turning black, and the moon is strangely red.
Stephano—It is raining torrents. 7 ‘
(La Princesse Maleine. Act I, Scene I.)

1 See The Plays of Maurice Maeterlinck, translated by Richard Hovey, Vol. I,
Preface, p. 1X. 2

2 This, a masterpiece of the symbolistic and mystic, is said to be Maeterlinck’s
favorite play.
32 Cororapo CoLLEGE PUBLICATION.

faith in enormous powers, invisible and fatal, whose inten-
tions no one could guess, but which the spirit of the drama
assumed to be malevolent, attentive to every act, hostile to
‘laughter, to life, peace, and love. Perhaps they were just,,
at heart, but only when in anget, and they exercised justice
in a manner so hidden, so indirect, so slow and remote that
their punishment,—for they never rewarded,—took the ap-
pearance of the arbitrary and inexplicable acts of destiny *

pe This unknown power usually assumed the form
of death. The infinite, dark, cunningly active presence of
death filled the whole poem. The problem of existence was
answered only by the enigma of its destruction. Moreover,
it was an indifferent and inexorable death, blind, groping its:
way at random, carrying away preferably the younger and
less unhappy, simply because they did not remain so motion-
less as the others, and because every sudden movement in the
night attracted its attention. There were about it only little
weak creatures, shivering, elementary, who moved to and
fro and wept at the edge of a gulf.” —

Of another and distinct type are the short, one-act plays,
lIntruse, les Aveugles (1890), and l’Intérieur (1894).
These are imbued with the mystic fatalism so characteristic
of Maeterlinck’s earlier work, and in two of them (’Intruse
and les Aveugles) Death in person, invisible but audible,
stalks across the stage. These little plays stand out from
those previously mentioned in that there are in them no
kings and ‘queens, no murder or bloodshed, but merely the
quiet coming of death to the humble and lowly. The
strongest of the three is probably Jes Aveugles, the “symbol
of a world lost in the dark forest of unfaith and unknowl-
edge, its ancient guide, the church, sitting dead in the
midst.’”2

Of a third type are the short playlets, Ariane et Barbe-
bleue and la Soeur Béatrice. “They are,” as Maeterlinck

1 Temple enseveli, pp. 112-114.
2 Hovey, I, p. 6.
Maereruinck’s Dramatic {HEoRY. 33

says, “little jeux de scéne, short poems of the kind rather
unfortunately called ‘comic-opera,’ and meant to furnish to
the musicians who had asked for them, a suitable theme for
lyrical development.”! They are weird, mystic scenes, but
are only slightly dramatic. Maeterlinck has worked over an
old theme in la Soeur Béatrice, which he has changed little
from its medizval form.?

Maeterlinck’s earlier dramas, therefore, may be divided
into three groups that treat (1) of kings and queens, gloomy
castles, and violent death, (2) of the quiet coming of death
to the humble and lowly, and (3) of religious exaltation or
of the rescue of the afflicted.

In most of these earlier dramas the strongest note is the
mystery of the terrible unknown, a mystery that is height-
ened by the author’s “intentional vagueness and remoteness,
the insistence on seemingly trivial and irrelevant things,
the cumulative effect of details which singly appear insignif-
icant,—all with a view to enveloping the subject in a mist
that shall make it loom up bigger and more threatening.
The nervous irritation caused by persistent repetition, the
disconcerting strangeness of speech and acts, the suggestion
of an elusive hidden meaning, all serve to heighten the
abnormally impressionable state in which the author desires
to keep his readers.’

None of these earlier dramas, save perhaps Pelléas et
Mélisande*, has succeeded on the stage, and it is probable
that Maeterlinck did not wish them to be acted. In answer
to the charge that the characters are all puppets .and impossi-
ble of representation, Maeterlinck has answered that the per-
formance of great dramas is never satisfactory. He says:
“We must admit that the theater, at least in its tendencies,
isan art. But I do not find in it the mark of other arts. Art

1 Preface to Theatre, p. XVIII.
2 For an English version, see The Ballad of a Nun, by John Davidson.

8 These words are taken bodily from a letter written recently by Professor C.
H. Grandgent of Harvard University to the author of this article.

4 This play especially has several lyrical passages of surpassing beauty. Note
Act III, Scene II, and Act IV, Scene IV.
34 CoLorapo CoLLECE PUBLICATION.

always follows a circuitous route and does not act directly.
Its supreme mission is the revelation of the infinite and great
in man as well as his hidden beauty * * * Most of the
great poems of mankind can not be put on the stage. Lear,
Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, Antony and Cleopatra can not
be represented, and it is dangerous to see them on the stage.
Something of Hamlet is dead for us from the day we have
seen him die before our eyes. ‘The specter of an actor has
dethroned him, and we can not put aside the usurper of our
dreams * * * . Every masterpiece is a symbol, and a
symbol does not bear the presence of man * * * . The
Greeks were not ignorant of this incompatibility, and
their masks, which we no longer understand, probably served
only to lessen the effect of man’s presence and aid the sym-
bolism.”!

‘When Maeterlinck began dramatic writing, he was under
the, influence of Shakespeare, as far as a French symbolist
can be influenced by the great Elizabethan dramatist; and
today he admires Shakespeare and holds him to be the
world’s greatest playwright. And he still deems allusion
to the mysteries of destiny to be the most powerful motif of
a drama, for without this it becomes realistic and materialis-
tic and must renounce much beauty. But as long ago as
1894, Maeterlinck had begun to feel a strong aversion to
bloodshed and violence on the stage. In the Tragique
quotidien he said: “But our authors of tragedy * * *
put all the interest of their works in the violence of the inci-
dent that is reproduced. And they seek to amuse us with
the same sort of acts that delighted barbarians who were
accustomed to crimes, murders and treachery; while we for
the most part pass our lives far from blood, outcries, and
swords * * * . When I go to the theater, it seems to
me that Iam for a few hours in the midst of my ancestors,
who had a simple, cold and brutal conception of life * *
* . Isee a deceived husband kill his wife, a woman poison

1 Hovey, Il, pp. X-XIV.
MAETERLINCK’S Dramatic THEORY. 35

her lover, a son avenge his father, a father sacrifice his chil-
dren, children kill their father, kings assassinated, virgins
violated, citizens imprisoned, and all the traditional sublim-
ity, but, alas! so superficial and material, of blood, visible
tears, and death * * * . J have come to believe that
an old man seated in his armchair, waiting quietly beside
his lamp, listening unconsciously to all the eternal laws that
reign about his house, interpreting, without comprehending,
the silence of doors and windows and the faint voice of light,
submitting with slightly bowed head to the presence of his
soul and of destiny, without suspecting that all the powers
of this world are taking part and keeping watch in the room
like so many attentive servants, not knowing that the very
sun supports above the abyss the little table on which he
leans, and that there is not a star in the heavens nor a force
within the soul that is indifferent to the movement of an
eyelid that drops or a thought that rises,—I have come to
believe that this motionless old man really lives a deeper,
more human, and more universal life than the lover who
strangles his mistress, the captain who wins a victory, or
‘the husband who avenges his honor.’”! This theory of
dramatic art is applied with skill and effectiveness in
l’Intériewr, where the old man sits beside his lamp, leaning
upon the table, wholly ignorant of the approaching tragedy,
and yet with a vague feeling of presentiment.? And not
since the coming of l’Intérieur has Maeterlinck permitted
bloodshed or murder on the stage.

And of late Maeterlinck has said: “It is seldom that
cries are heard now; bloodshed is rare, and tears not often
seen. It is in a small room, round a table, close to the fire,
that the joys and sorrows of mankind are decided.’

“People still die on the stage, it is true, as in reality they
still must die, but death has ceased—or will cease, let us

1 Tresor des humbles, pp, 184-8.

2 Note also, as an instance of the contemplative old man, the grandfather in
Pelleas et Melisande,

8 The Modern Drama, in The Double Garden, translated by Alfred Sutro, pp.
122-3.
36 Cotorapo CoLLECE PUBLICATION.

hope, very soon—to be regarded as the indispensable setting,
the ultima ratio, the inevitable end, of every dramatic poem.
In the most formidable crisis of our lives—which, cruel
though. it may be, is cruel in silent and hidden ways—we
rarely look to death for a solution; and for all that the
theater is slower than the other arts to follow the evolution
of human consciousness, it will still be at last compelled, in
some measure, to take this into account. * * * the
Italian, Scandinavian, Spanish or mythical stories * * *
are no longer able to offer us the direct interest they pre-
sented at a time when they appeared highly natural and
possible, at a time, when, at any rate, the circumstances,
manners and sentiments they recalled were not yet extinct
in the minds of those who witnessed their reproduction.”
“* * * the passions and feelings of a modern poet must,
in despite of himself, be entirely and exclusively modern.”?

Today Maeterlinck’s philosophy of optimistic stoicism,—
his belief in the invincible power of wisdom with love,—no
longer permits him to consider a blind inexorable fate as the .
sole cause of tragedy. Man, he holds, with wisdom and
love, may control destiny; hence, there can be tragedy only
amongst fools and madmen. In the very presence of the
wise and good only one cause of tragedy is possible, and that
is deliberate self-sacrifice for the good of others. “The mere
presence of the sage suffices to paralyze destiny; and of this
we find proof in the fact that there exists scarce a drama
wherein a true sage appears; when such is the case, the
event must needs halt before reaching bloodshed and tears.
Not only is there no drama wherein sage is in conflict with
sage, but indeed there are very few whose action revolves
round asage. And truly, can we imagine that an event shall
turn into tragedy between men who have earnestly striven to
gain knowledge of self? But the heroes of famous tragedies
do not question their souls profoundly; and it follows there-

1 The Modern Drama,in The Double Garden, pp. 116-7.
2 Idem, pp. 120-1.
MAETERLINCK’s Dramatic THEORY. 37

from that the beauty the tragic poet presents is only a cap
tive thing, is fettered with chains; for were his heroes to soar
to the height the real hero would gain, their weapons would
fall to the ground, and the drama itself become peace—the
peace of enlightenment. It is only in the Passion of Christ,
the Phaedo, Promethius, the murder of Orpheus, the sacri-
fice of Antigone—it is only in these that we find the drama
of the sage, the solitary drama of wisdom. But elsewhere it
is rarely indeed that tragic poets will allow a sage to appear
on the scene, though it be for an instant. They are afraid of
a lofty soul; for they know that events are no less afraid, and
that a murder committed in the presence of the sage seems
quite other than the murder committed in the presence of
those whose soul still knows not itself. Had Oedipus pos-
sessed the inner refuge that Marcus Aurelius, for instance,
had been able to erect in himself—a refuge whereto he could
fly at all times—had he only acquired some few of the cer-
titudes open to every thinker—what could destiny then have
done? What would she have entrapped in her snares?
Would they have contained aught besides the pure light that
streams from the lofty soul, as it grows more beautiful still
in misfortune?’! “Hamlet, bewailing his fate on the brink
of the gulf, seems profounder, imbued with more passion,
than Antoninus Pius, whose tranquil gaze rests on the self-
same forces, but who accepts them and questions them
calmly, instead of recoiling in horror and calling down curses
on them.’2 ‘The external forces, we know, will not yield to
the righteous man; but still he is absolute lord of most of the
inner powers; and these are for ever spinning the web of
nearly all our happiness and sorrow. We have said that the
sage, as he passes by, intervenes in countless dramas. In-
deed his mere presence suffices to arrest most of the calami-
ties that arise from error or evil. They can not approach
him, or even those that are near him. A chance meeting with

1 Wisdom and Destiny, Sutro’s translation, pp- 35-7.
2 Idem, p. 156.
38 Cotorapo CoLLEecE Puriication.

a creature endowed with simple and loving wisdom has
stayed the hands of men who else had committed countless
acts of folly ar wickedness.” “Around the upright man
there is drawn a wide circle of peace, within which the ar-
rows of evil soon cease to fall; nor have his fellows the
power to inflict moral suffering upon him.’

The development of these philosophical views of Maeter-
linck may be clearly traced in his dramas. ‘Their appear-
ance, though vague and indistinct, is noted first in Alladine
et Palomides. WUere Astolaine is willing to sacrifice her-
self that her beloved may be happy with another; but vio-
lent death is not averted. In Aglavaine et Sélysette the
young wife meets death by throwing herself from a lofty
tower that she may no longer stand between Méléandre and
Aglavaine. ‘The motif of the tragedy is self-sacrifice, but the
cause is not noble. These are the last of Maeterlinck’s ear-
lier tragedies, and six years elapsed before the appearance of
another and a greater drama, Monna Vanna (1902).

Monna Vanna must be recognized as thus far Maeter-
linck’s greatest dramatic work. In it our author has fully
put into effect his later theory of dramatic art,—that the
mere presence of a wise man or woman will avert all forms
of tragedy save one, that of deliberate self-sacrifice for the
good of others. It has been shown that this theory was
followed somewhat blindly and gropingly in Alladine et
Palomides and+more clearly and definitely in Aglavaine et
Sélysetie; but it is in Monna Vanna that we find for the
first time in Maeterlinck’s works the deliberate and noble self-
sacrifice of an Antigone. Maeterlinck has-said that he wrote
Monna Vanna for Georgette Leblanc, a popular and success-
ful actrice, who has since become Mme. Maeterlinck. To
this fact may be due in large part the greater human inter-
est of this play as compared with the others. In any case,

1 Wisdom and Destiny, pp. 198-9.
2 Idem, p. 199.

8 Monna Vanna, and the husband in Felleas et Melisande, are probably the only
two instances of successful character-drawing in Maeterlinck’s dramas.
Magtreriinck’s Dramatic THEORY. 39

Monna Vanna is the only one of Maeterlinck’s dramas that
has been truly successful on the stage. It may have been the
sensational element in it that drew the crowds, but Maeter-
linck did not mean it so.

There is a similarity between Monna Vanna and Brown-
ing’s Luria that has led some unjustly to accuse Maeterlinck
of plagiarism: The setting of the two dramas is very nearly
the same, and some of the characters are much alike, but the
incidents and, above all, the motifs of the two plays are quite
different. In Browning’s drama, Luria, the Moorish chief-
tain of the Florentine forces, sacrifices self to his sense of
duty and honor; in Maeterlinck’s work, Monna Vanna, the
noble Pisan lady, sacrifices herself doubly,—firstly, to save
her people from starvation and slaughter, and secondly, to
save Prinzivalle from torture and dishonorable death.
Monna Vanna is, doubtless, the stronger and more drama-
tic of the two works. And yet, after all, it were probably
wrong to class Monna Vanna as finally and unredeemably
tragic, for may not the Pisan lady and Prinzivalle have es-
caped to other and better lands to live in happiness ever
after? But this we do not know. ‘The moral problems have
been solved, and subsequent incidents do not matter.

Joyzelle (1903) has more of the legendary,! the mystical,
and the miraculous than Monna Vanna, and it is much the
weaker play. It denotes a reversion to an earlier and more
symbolistic type, with its mysterious island, its gloomy and
deserted palace, its old and tyrannical king, and its magic
garden; but a new note is struck in Arielle, the subconscious

self, clairvoyant and prophetic, of Merlin.

In Joyzelle full expression is given to the theory that
wisdom and love, but chiefly love-——may control destiny.
This all-powerful love is thus described: “If he is loved
with a love that is ingenuous and yet sees clearly, a love as
simple and pure, and as all-powerful, as mountain streams,

"1h Malory’s Morte d’ Arthur, Tennyson's Jdylis of the King,etc. There is
also some slight resemblance between /oyzelle and Shakespeare's Tempest.
40 CororaDo CoLLECE PUBLICATION.

a love heroic and gentler than a flower, a love that takes all
and gives back more than it takes, that never hesitates, is
never mistaken, which nothing troubles or repulses, which
does not hear or see more than a mysterious happiness in-
visible to all others, which perceives him in -all forms and
through all trials, and which shall go smilingly as far as
crime in order to claim him as its own. . . If he obtains this
love which exists somewhere and awaits him, * * * his
life will be longer, more beautiful and happier than that of
other men.”

In his essay on the modern drama Maeterlinck undertakes
to tell the future. He speaks of “the decay, one might al-
most say the creeping paralysis, of external action,”’? and of
the “desire to penetrate deeper and deeper into human con-
sciousness.”8 He states that, in his opinion, “the highest
point of human consciousness is attained by the dramas of
Bjornson, of Hauptmann, and, above all, of Ibsen. Here we
touch the limit of the resources of modern dramaturgy.
For, in truth, the further we penetrate into the consciousness
of man, the less struggle do we discover.”* And he then
makes his prophecy in these words: “For when the sun has
entered into the consciousness of him who is wise, as we may
hope that it will some day enter into that of all men, it will
reveal one duty, and one alone, which is that we should do
the least possible harm and love others as we love ourselves ;
and from this duty no drama can spring.’

1 Joyzelle, Act I. Scene I.

2 The Modern Drama, Sutro’s translation, in The Double Garden, p. 115.
8 Idem, pp. 115-6.

4 Idem, 129-130.

& Idem, 132-3.
Page
Missing
In Printing
Page
Missing
in Printing
THe Pixe’s Peak Recion in Sona anpD Mytu

By ELIJAH CLARENCE HILLs
Copyright, 1913
By Elijah Clarence Hills
A iiss lyrics and myths in this little volume were

read before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Colo-
rado College during the commencement week of 1912.

Much verse has been written descriptive of the
Pike’s Peak region, of which only a part is given in
this collection. Some of the best lyrics have doubt-
less been omitted. On the other hand, there is a
dearth of legends and myths, and none of those we
have is well authenticated.

E. C. H.
SONGS

&
HELEN HUNT JACKSON
&

Though not born here, Helen Hunt Jackson (“H. H.’)
was attached to Colorado Springs by ties of sympathy and
love, and here she spent the happiest days of her life. This
poet of Christian resignation and sympathy with the afflict-
ed, this singer of friendship’s gentle bonds and of the loneli-
‘ness of sorrow, this lover of children, birds, and flowers, is
beyond question our greatest literary artist. And if Pike’s
Peak, where dwells the Manitou, is our Olympus, may not
Cheyenne Mountain be considered our Parnassus, for on its
summit, not unlike the Earthly Paradise described by Dante,
Helen Hunt Jackson wrote some of her sweetest verses and
finest tales. There she often meditated on the sorrows and
rewards of human life, but with scorn and malice toward
none; there she observed the stirring life of birds and in-
sects, that go their busy ways heedless of the very presence
of Man; there she sang of “the little poppies” that “ran like
torchmen with the wheat,” and of thé “stars with rhythmic
light.” :

What nobler hymn to

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN

than this inspired sonnet by our poetess!

By easy slope to west as if it had
No thought, when first its soaring was begun,
Except to look devoutly to the sun,
It rises and has risen, until glad,
170 CoLoraDO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

With light as with a garment, it is clad,
Each dawn, before the tardy plains have won
One ray; and after day has long been done
For us, the light doth cling reluctant, sad

To leave its brow.

Beloved Mountain, I
Thy worshipper as thou the stun’s, each morn
My dawn, before the dawn, receive from thee;

And think, as thy rose-tinted peaks I see,
That thou wert great when Homer was not born;
And ere thou change all human song shall die!

When the poetess went eastward over the level plains,
or westward over the mountain ranges and through the deep-
cut valleys, her heart yearned for the City of Light that
nestled at the foot of her beloved mountains, and she sang
of her

RETURN TO THE HILLS

Like a music of triumph and joy
Sounds the roll of the wheels,

And the breath of the engine laughs out
In loud chuckles and peals,

Like the laugh of a man that is glad
Coming homeward at night;

I lean out of the window and nod
To the left and the right,

To my friends in the fields and the woods;
Not a face do I miss;

The sweet asters and browned golden-rod,
And that stray clematis,

Of all vagabonds dearest and best,
In most seedy estate;

I am sure they all recognize me;
If I only could wait,
THE PriKe’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytTH 171

I should hear all the welcome which now
In their faces I read,

“© true lover of us and our kin,
We all bid thee God speed!”

O my mountains, no wisdom can teach
Me to think that ye care

Nothing more for my steps than the rest,
Or that they can have share

Such as mine in your royal crown-lands,
Unencumbered of fee;

In your temple with altars unhewn,
Where redemption is free;

In your houses of treasure, which gold
Can not buy if it seek;

And your oracles, mystic with words,
Which men lose if they speak!

Ah! with boldness of lovers who wed
I make haste to your feet,

And as constant as lovers who die,
My surrender repeat ;

And I take as the right of my love,
And I keep as its sign,

An ineffable joy in each sense
And new strength as from wine,

A seal for all purpose and hope,
And a pledge of full light,

Like a pillar of cloud for my day,
And of fire for my night.

Even in this land of sunshine there are occasional gray
days, when the clouds hang low and hide the mountain-tops
and rolling plains from our disappointed eyes. And on such
days do we not sometimes, from beneath our canopy of
mist, catch a glimpse of blue skies to the south? This theme
172 CoLorADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

was well used by the poetess in a congratulatory sonnet, en-
titled

WITH THEM THAT DO REJOICE

All yesterday our sky was cold and gray;
A misty wall of cloud hid from our sight
The mountain-tops; the plains stretched cold and white,
And snow-flakes slowly floated down and lay

Like funeral flowers about the pallid day.
Sudden at noon the sky to south grew bright,
Turned blue, was radiant in full sunny light.
Beneath our clouds we sat, and looked away

Into this glowing south till sunset. So
Into my life’s gray calm today there fell
Message that two I leve had come to know

The one great earthly joy no words can tell.
Dear Hearts, I think light from your south will flow
To me until the tolling sunset-bell.

I am fond of Helen Hunt Jackson’s charming lyrics;
but I am not sure that I do not like even better her narrative
poems.- Thus, few ballads are stronger than that of the
“King’s Singer,” the shepherd boy whose music rang ‘“un-
earthly sweet” when he roamed free with his flocks upon
the hillside; but when arrayed “with cloth of gold” he stood
before the courtiers and played at the king’s behest, his merry
notes faded into “one faint sound” that brought him the
scorn of courtiers and a king’s dark frown; or that of the
“Abbott Paphnutius,’ who found a rival saint in him who
played that drunken men and women might dance in the
market place; or the tale of a king who laid aside his crown,
and care-free and joyous wandered through the world hand
in hand with a beggar, while his people called him dead.
And few lines are finer than those of the “Funeral March,”
which, in subtle rhythm, portray the shadows as they mock
and taunt the funeral procession.

No better expression of our love and gratitude could be
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SoNG AND MytH 173

given to Helen Hunt Jackson than the following beautiful
lines from her own little poem called “Flowers On A Grave,”
with the substitution of the pronoun her for him,—a liberty
which I have allowed myself to take:

What sweeter thing to hear, through tears, than this,
Of one who dies, that, looking on her dead,

All men with tender reverence gazed and said:
“What courtesy and gentleness were hers!

Our ruder lives, for years to come, will miss

Her sweet serenity, which daily shed

A grace we scarcely felt, so deep inbred

Of nature was it . a

After the death of Helen Hunt Jackson, her body was
buried on the north spur of Cheyenne Mountain, at a place
she loved well and where she wrote some of her most charm-
ing works. Here beneath the fragrant fir-trees, her grave
was for five years (1885-1890) a place of pilgrimage, until
the body was removed to Evergreen Cemetery in Colorado
Springs The position of the grave on the mountain top is
still marked by a pile of stones, left by those who admired
her writings. The romantic setting of “H. H.’s” grave has
given rise to a considerable number of lyrics, of which the
following are among the best:

CHEYENNE CANYON

Oh, Cheyenne Canyon, in thy dim defiles,

Where glooms the light, as through cathedral aisles,
Where flash and fall bright waters, pure as air,

Where wild birds brood, wild blossoms bloom, and where
The wind sings anthems through the darkling trees,

A presence breathes the tenderest melodies.

Songs that the finer ears of poets feel
But do not hear, ethereal chords that steal
Upon the soul, as fragrance of the flowers,
174 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

Unseen, unknown, from undiscovered bowers,
Enwraps the senses with a deep delight,
Pure as the stars and tender as the night.

For here in Nature’s arms there lies asleep

One who loved Nature with a passion deep,

Who knew her language and who read her book,
Who sang her music, which the bird, the brook,
The winds, the woods, the mountains and the seas
Chant ever, in commingling harmonies.

Oh, Cleyenne Canyon! through thy dim defiles

The music floats as through cathedral aisles;

The singer silent, but the song is heard

In sigh of wind and carolling of bird.

All these the poet’s melodies prolong,

For Nature now sings o’er her loved one’s song.
STANLEY Woop

THE MOURNERS ON CHEYENNE
(At the Grave of “H. H.’)

~

There Summer cometh, shuddering at death,
Bowing her regal beauty in her dread
Long bitterness of loss, and scattereth
Dust, dust and bitter ashes o’er the dead.

There sobered Autumn in funereal weed,
With locks disheveled, leaves her ripest sheaf ;
And while low winds a solemn requiem lead,
She, lingering, weeps her fill of wasting grief.

And Winter, from the battle fields of storm,
Scarred, worn, and woe-racked, yearly bringeth there

His calm white shroud, to spread above that form,
Keeping unjarred the peace he cannot share.
Tue Prixe’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 175

And Spring, with dew-bright eyes gladdened with hope,
Brings hither all the first flowers of the lea;

And while with brow toward heaven her eye-lids ope,
She softly whispers “Immortality!”

Ernest WHITNEY

HELEN HUNT’S GRAVE

God, for the man who knew him face to face,
Prepared a grave apart, a tomb unknown,
Where dews drop tears, and only winds make moan,
And white archangels guard the narrow space.

God gives to His beloved sleep; the place
Where His seer slept was set remote, for rest,
After the forty years of desert quest,
The Sinai terrors, and the Pisgah grace.

So, clear-eyed priestess, sleep! remembering not
The fiery scathe of life, nor trackless years,
Nor even Canaan’s sun-kissed, flowery meads.

God shields, within his hollowed hand, the spot
Where brooding peace rebukes unquiet tears.
She sleepeth well who wrought such noble deeds!

Vircinia DonacHE McC.Lure
176 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

EDITH COLBY BANFIELD
&

Miss Banfield (1870-1903), a niece of Helen Hunt
Jackson, spent the last three years of her life in Colorado
Springs, and here she wrote some of her finest verses. In
the little volume of lyrics entitled ‘““The Place of My Desire”
(Boston, 1904), Miss Banfield gives evidence of her
acquaintance with the great English poets and her love of
their works. Chaucer and Keats she calls her

“cc

morning poets, like the dawn
In loveliness and bright simplicity.”

Shakspere is to her “as the eternal ocean,” which
“With its great pulses throbbing mightily,

Bears all the commerce of our human-kind,

And touches every shore in friendliness.”

She admires “Spenéer’s silver stream” and “Milton’s torrent
harmonies ;” Arnold, “austere and pure, steadfast as a star ;”
and Stevenson, “a bright and gracious presence” that has “the
gift of love;’ and she adds:

“Tt is sweet to sit in humbleness at Wordsworth’s feet,
And with his eyes spell out the lettered hills.”

Like Mrs. Jackson, she loves solitude and takes delight
in trees and flowers. In her descriptive poems she sings
chiefly of her beloved New England, but she also pays tribute
to the “gigantic West:”

IN THE ROCKIES

I am a lover of New England ways,
Of country roadsides and familiar flowers,
Of haunts that I have known from early days,
And followed far through long and happy hours.
How may I look on the gigantic West?
Tue PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MyTH 177

How understand these mountains and ravines?
How cease from saying, But my heart loves best
The quiet East and all its wooded scenes?
These are the mighty ones that I know not,
Of ancient race and kingly lineage—

Toc great for me, still holding unforgot

The lesser hillsides of my heritage,

Like one of lowly birth who homesick clings
To humble memories ’mid halls of kings.

Coming from the fresh sea-breezes of New England to
the dry plains and brown mountains of Colorado, Miss Ban-
field was heartsick for the ocean she loved so well, and ex-
claimed :

SAILOR BLOOD

I come of a race that loves the sea
And a driven ship is home to me.
On land I faint and thirst and fail
And grow heart-sick for the roaring gale;
I dream of a home that hath no place,
And the feel of the spray upon my face.

The mountains rise to a barren sky,
And the level plains are parched and dry;
Like a stagnant sea they mock my gaze
With their limitless horizon haze;

They have no breath, they mock at me,
Whose soul cries out for the living sea.

I am scourged of the dust that sweeps the plains,
And the great dry winds that bring no rains;
I am scourged of the dust, I am choked and blind,
And the health of waters I can not find,
And my sailor blood makes wild in me
For the wet of the storm, and the salt of the sea!
178 CoLorabo COLLEGE PUBLICATION

Child of the sea, how can I bear

The wide still plains and the desert air?
Sounds of the sea I hear by night

In dreams that have not sound nor sight,
And my heart doth yearn and strain by day
For the throb two thousand miles away.

Doth strain and hark for the distant roar

Of great tides booming along the shore;

Like a prisoned gull my heart doth beat

For the great wet winds and the dripping sheet,
And the crested waves and the bounding spray,
And the storms that brood o’er the ocean gray.

I come of a race that loves the sea

And a driven ship is home to me.

On land I faint and thirst and fail

And grow heart-sick for the roaring gale;
I dream of a home that hath no place,
And the feel of the spray upon my face!

But when the first summer came with its refreshing
showers and gray mists nestling on the mountain-side, the
poet’s soul ceased to yearn for the distant land:

I see these mountains now forever with changed eyes,
Since I have seen them lovely through the summer storms,
And heard their thunders roll—their ceaseless thunders roll.
No more I call them barren, that so rise
Unto the rains of heaven. No more my soul
Doth yearn unsatisfied in a far land, since it hath seen
Hill bare and prairies over-crept with green.

Yea, even here I feel the distant sea
Pour out itself in rains to comfort me.

The three foremost poets of Colorado Springs have
doubtless been “H. H.,” Miss Banfield, and Ernest Whitney
THE Pike’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytTH 179

(1858-1893). In 1889 Mr. Whitney came here from Yale
University, where he had been an instructor in English. He
soon came to love the “land of the undimmed heaven,” with
its “City of Sunshine” and its mountain peaks and nestling
vales. No other poet has thus far written more verses de-
scriptive of the Pike’s Peak region than has Mr. Whitney.
One of these, ‘““The Mournets on Cheyenne,” has already been
given. Others follow under the various heads of Pike’s Peak,
Cheyenne Mountain, etc.
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COLORADO
&
COLORADO

O “Colored Land!” beneath a turquoise sky—
Sun-kissed from dazzling peaks to opal plains—
What pulses throb within thy silver veins,
What forces strove in thee for mastery!

The Manitou here dwelt in days gone by
In crystal springs, to cleanse all mortal stains;
Here the swart Spaniard strove for golden gains;
Lone hunters saw thy virgin purity.

Now plenty’s garners gild the quiet fields,
And marts are swayed by olive-sceptered peace ;
To mighty multitudes her wealth she yields,

As shifting seasons pass and years increase;
For fair “Columbia,” bending towards the west,
Now wears this crimson rose upon her breast.

Vircinia DonaGHE McCiurc

COLORADO

Thou hast thine eyrie in the lifted lands,
O Colorado, mountain-born and free;
Unvexed by terrors of the far-off sea,
On earth’s high crest thy favored realm expands.
Nature bestowed thy dower with lavish hands,
The richest gifts within her treasury,
Which from creation she reserved for thee,
Thy ore-veined mountains and thy golden sands.
Far eastward, ocean-vast, thy plains extend;
Westward thy snow-crowned mountains meet the sky;
Heavens of unclouded blue above thee bend,
And the bright sun looks on thee lovingly.
To what God hath so wrought may great souls lend
The fadeless luster of achievements high.
J. D. DitLENBAcK
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SonGc AND MytTH Isl

COLORADO

Land of the undimmed heaven! where the earth
Hath reared her noblest altar to the sun, ’
A continent its basis, and when done
Capt with the navel of creation’s birth.
Here the new light first burst the world-cioud’s girth;
Here through the sky a bluer woof is spun;
A kindlier heat is from the day-god won,
Danae’s boon freed from its curse of dearth.
The land of beauty and sublimity,
The land of color, the world’s wonderland,
Earth’s teeming mint where orient ores expand;
The haunted home of ancient mystery ;
And in this world of death, disease, and strife,
The one true home of peace and hope and life.

ERNEST \WHITNEY

COLORADO

T love the great brown land with clear blue sky;
I love the sun-kissed plains and granite hills,

The lofty summits and the sparkling rills,
And painted cliffs where deep-worn canyons lie.

I love the thin, sweet air, which to the eye
Makes distance seem as naught, and the breast fills
With a new life. Here far from human ills
May I abide in peace until I die!

The vast upland will breed a hardy race,
Deep-chested, strong of heart, of goodly height,
Who ‘mongst all men shall hold an honored place,

If their minds be illumined with the light
Of heaven, as their land, and if the grace
Of God be sought, to help them walk aright.

ELiyAH CLARENCE HILLs
COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

OLD WINTER IN COLORADO

Old winter! at thy name what visions rise
Of fields outstretched, bewildering brown and bare,
Of ice and chill, and snowdrifts everywhere,
Or mists and rain and lowering cloudy skies.
Thou hast thy sunny side, thy gloomy guise
Is not for us; upon this ambient air
Thy breath is sweet as May, and thou doest wear
Such smiles! Each morn unfolds some new surprise.
O’er Colorado’s mountains thou dost trail
Thy days so sun-bespangled that they seem
Steps to the infinite, and whirl on whirl
They circle westward like a golden sail
Upon the billowy blue, a radiant dream
Which nightward drifts upon their gates of pearl.

Emma P. SEABURY

FROM “LESSONS FROM AN OLD MASTER”

What is the help that cometh from the hills?

Strong pulses, full drawn breath, and sinews tried?
Still may they cleanse the body of its ills;

But higher virtues have the hills supplied;

They train the soul to climb; they best provide
The health of spirit, sanity of mind,

Wherein the purest fires of life reside;

And noble souls of old were quick to find

God in the wilderness and on the mountain shrined.

ERNEST WHITNEY
THE Prxke’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 183
PIKE'S PEAK
*

PIKE’S PEAK

Lone, hoary monarch of the Titan peaks,
Offspring of heaven and earth in planet jars,
Bare-bodied savage, grim with unhealed scars,
To thy wild band thy voice in thunder speaks;

Thy sword-stroke is the avalanche that wreaks
Quick vengeance on thy kneeling victim. Wars
Come but to yield thee homage, and the stars
Visit thee nightly, yet thy long gaze seeks

Unsatisfied the playmate of thy prime—

O longing like to mine!—that goddess bright,
The ocean stream. O deep embrace! that time

Forgets not, ere stern gods beyond thy sight
Her dungeons sunk. Thy memory that! thy hope
This ocean-seeking stream that cheers thy slope.

Ernest WHITNEY

TO PIKE’S PEAK

Thou hast clothed thy steepest hillsides
With the fragrant fir and pine,
With the timid quaking-aspen,
And the pale-blue columbine ;
And thy torrents downward rushing
From the melting snow o’erhead,
Bring a tender, plaintive music
To the canyon’s deep-worn bed.

Thou art ever changing color
In thy coat of many hues,

From the glowing orange-crimsons ‘
To the darkling greens and blues;
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When the sun through rift in cloudland
Floods thee with his golden rays,

On thy slopes the purple shadows
Flit across the browns and grays.

When thy darkened form is outlined
In the rosy western sky,
From thy far-flung broken ridges
Magic castles rise on high,—
Castles with fantastic towers
Where the elf-king becks and calls,
While the evening’s dying splendor
Streams between the blackened walls.

When the lightning’s fiery serpent
Cleaves the air with sudden flash,
And the startled hills give answer
To the thunder’s jarring crash,
Calm and fair thy sun-kissed summit
Looms above the mist and rain,
And to thee the melting storm-clouds
Seem a white and fleecy plain.

Fold on fold thy wrinkled foothills,
Rising, lifting up to thee,
Seem the heaving, wind-tossed billows
Of a vast, tumultous sea,—
Thou, a stolid, massive island
With thy uplands bare and bleak,
With thy hollows and abysses,
And thy lofty, granite peak.
* * * *
Round thee surged the moving waters
When thou first didst lift thy head;
Thou wert then a rocky island
In the ocean’s shifting bed;
THE Pixe’s Peak REGIon IN SONG AND Mytu 185

But before thy slow uprising
Fled the sullen, restless sea,

As the mists of early morning
From the growing sunlight flee.

Thou hast seen the floodgates loosened
In these arid, burning skies ;

Thou hast heard the palm-tree rustle
Where the northern fir-tree sighs;

Nature at thy feet hath fashioned
Many forms in living clay;

Some she held in fond affection;
Some she spurned and cast away.

Last of all was Man created,
Slower than the hare and hind,
Weaker than the bear or panther,

But endowed with cunning mind;
Man alone knew good and evil
And could call things by their name;
But, alas! with greater knowledge
Followed greater sin and shame.
* * * *
Oh, majestic, mighty mountain,
Mocking Time’s eternal flow,
When thou lookest on the mortals
As they toil and weep below,
Dost thou think to live forever,
Since of granite frame thou art,
While the life of Man is measured
By the beating of his heart?

As the ancient, moss-grown boulder
Scorns the limpid, rippling stream,

Thou dost view the flight of ages
As an idly changing dream;
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But if water ever running
Wears the rock it rushes past,

So shall Time, the all-consuming,
Eat away thine heart at last.

Though all matter be immortal,
It is ever changing shape;
Soil that gives the ruddy apple,
Gives the luscious, purple grape;
Water makes the curling vapor,
Floating ice and drifting snow;
And the rock that forms the mountain
Makes the sandy plain below.

Death is but a changed condition ;
Life is but a passing show;

Sea and mountain, earth and heaven,
Come, and pause a while, and go.
Length of life should not be reckoned

By the number of the years;
Less an age of senseless matter
Than an hour of love and tears!

EvijaH CLARENCE Hitts

TIMBER-LINE

I stood on the crest in the sunlight,
When the summer was growing old;
Yet the ages’ trace on the mountain’s face

Was frozen and white and cold.

I gazed at the distant meadow,
Green with its verdure spread,
Framing the brook, as it pathway took
Through the vale, like a silver thread.
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 187

As upward my vision I gathered,
Over forests wide of pine,

I saw them sway to the zephyr’s play
Till they reached the timber-line ;

Where in grandeur and sadness were lying
The broken, the dying, the dead,

Like the havoc made by the cannon’s raid
In the ranks at the battle’s head.

Naked and gaunt and frowning,
Like a giant stripped for fray,
The mountain stood above the wood

In the glare of the summer’s day.

I thought as again I gathered
The scene in my vision’s ken,
That nature’s strife resembles our life,
The lives of mortal men.

Some like the valley are peaceful,
Some thrive like the evergreen pine,
Whilst others must stand a hapless band,

To die at the timber-line.

SURVILLE J. DELAN
188 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

COLORADO SPRINGS

&*
COLORADO SPRINGS

City of Sunshine! in whose gates of light

Celestial airs and essences abound;

City of Refuge! from whose sacred height

Disease falls thwarted as a baffled hound,

Loosing its fang, long burning in the wound;

City of Life! thou hast a gift of years

For all; swift Death a thousand times discrowned
Within thy walls, and Fate, with waiting shears,

Heed thee, as thou alone of earth didst feed their fears.

Ernest WHITNEY

FROM MY DOORWAY

A towering mountain range that bears within
Its rocky breast

An unmolested store of precious ore;

This is the picture that I see when looking
Toward the West.

Vast plains whose virgin soil might yield the world
A harvest feast,

In undisturbéd sleep their secret keep ;

This is the picture that I see when looking
Toward the East.

Ah, peaceful land of hidden wealth! The troubled
Days draw nigh,
When all thy secret’s known—thy quiet gone;
Thank God that where I upward look is
His unchanging sky!
Mary G. Stocum
Tue PiKe’s PEAK REeGion IN SONG AND MytH 189
THE GARDEN OF THE GODS

os

GATEWAY OF THE GARDEN OF THE GODS

‘Tis the gate of the mountains, the gate to the plains,
The gate to a world of new, unknown domains;

And the hosts of the east throng through it, wide ope,
For they read on its portals “The haven of hope.”

*Twas the gate of the dawn of the first morning bright,
And still feels the glow of creation’s new light.

Wide swung on the marge of the sea and the land,
Through it crawled the monsters that haunted the strand

In primeval ages. Its threshold was worn

By life’s long processions while Eden, forlorn,
Still waited life’s promises. Under its arch
Passed race after race in humanity’s march,

When the bound of the west, to the mind of the east,

Was the gate where Alcides his wandering ceased.

What wonder the poet who under it trod

Deemed he walked through the gate of the Garden of God?

For it rose in a glory of transcendent gleams

Like the vision which shone on the prophet in dreams;
And he saw through its portals, through vistas sublime,
The wonders God works in earth’s happiest clime.

Ernest WHITNEY
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THE GARDEN OF THE GODS

Beneath the rocky peak that hides
In clouds its snow-flecked crest,

Within these crimson crags abides
An Orient in the West.

These tints of flame, these myriad dyes,
This eastern desert calm,

Should catch the gleam of Syrian skies,
Or shade of Egypt’s palm.

As if to bar the dawn’s first light
These ruby gates are hung;

As if from Sinai’s frowning height
These riven tablets flung.

But not the Orient’s drowsy gaze,
Young empire’s opening lids

Greet these strange shapes, of earlier days
Than Sphinx or Pyramids.

Here the New West its wealth unlocks,
And tears the veil aside,

Which hides the mystic glades and rocks
The red man deified.

This greensward, girt with tongues of flame,
With spectral pillars strewn,

Not strangely did the savage name
A haunt of gods unknown.

Hard by the gentle Manitou
His healing fountains poured ;
Blood-red, against the cloudless blue,
These storm-tossed Titans soared;
Tue PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 191

Not carved by art, or man’s device,
Nor shaped by human hand,

These altars, meet for sacrifice,
This temple, vast and grand.

With torrents wild and tempest blast,
And fierce volcanic fires,

In secret moulds has Nature cast
Her monoliths and spires.

Their shadows linger where we tread;
Their beauty fills the place;

A broken shrine—its votaries fled—
A spurned and vanished race.

Untouched by Time the garden gleams,
Unplucked the wild flower shines,
And the scarred summit’s rifted seams
Are bright with glistening pines.

And still the guileless heart that waits
At Nature’s feet may find,

Within the rosy, sun-lit gates,
A hidden glory shrined;

His presence feel to whom, in fear,
Untaught the savage prayed,

And, listening in the garden, hear
His voice, nor be afraid.

WILLiaAM ALLEN BUTLER
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MANITOU
Be

MANITOU

Where the shadow of the mountain
Meets the sunshine of the fountain,
Listen to these voices singing

And the message they are bringing:

Spirit Of The Springs:
Sister spirit of the stream,
Is it real or a dream?
Faces in their color change,
Voices take a wider range;
Nature’s emerald bosom shows
Charm and color of the rose;
Tell me, spirit, is it true,
All things old give place to new?

Spirit Of The Stream:
Sister spirit of the spring,
Fresher, clearer voices sing
Of a whiter, later race
Taking the swart Indian’s place.
Art to Nature gives her hand;
Fashion waves her magic wand,
And the languorous glamor cast
Veils the glory of the past.

Spirit Of The Springs:
Sister spirit of the stream,
It is real, not a dream!
Echoes as from Eden wake
Music such as seraphs make
In each glen and through each rift
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 193

Where your shining waters drift;
While the songs of youth and maid
Crown each cool and shadowed glade.

Spirit Of The Stream:

From the peak down which I flow
With my water born of snow,

To the valley lands that lie
’Neath a warm and sunny sky,
All the air is full of change,
Change as sweet as it is strange;
And my song forever chimes

To these later happier times.

The Spirits Of The Springs And The Stream:

Whiter tepees crown our hills,
Sweeter lips now touch our rills;
Under Manitou’s bright skies
Fairer faces meet our eyes;
And where crystal waters glide
Happy lovers blush and hide;
Dusky features fade away,
Saxon faces come today.

Flash on fountain, roll on river,
Snow-crowned peak and sun-kissed vale;
These are Nature's gifts forever

Until Nature’s self shall fail.

Epcar P. VANGASSEN
194 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION
THE TOWN OF SUN AND SHADOW

Summer days of warping pavements, when
the steely skies are blue,

Off my thoughts fly to the westward to the glens
of Manitou—

To the canyons and the passes
And the green of mountain grasses,

And the pine and quaking aspen dabbled with
the morning dew;

And the rugged, outward-jutting rocks that look
like sentinels

Guarding well the toy-like village that far, far
below them dwells;

And the royal peak up yonder that in majesty
defies

Like a reincarnate Ajax all the lightning
of the skies

As it peers beyond the snowdrifts that are ever
in its view,

And lends dignity most solemn to the giddy
Manitou—

To the thoughtless, sprightly, pleasure-loving
town of Manitou.

When the sun in furnace-fashion seems to roast me
through and through,
Then I listen for the gurgle of the springs
of Manitou—
For the gurgle and their splashing
And the noisy, foamy crashing
Of the creek that hastens downward—hastens
as ’twere overdue,
Calling farewell to the strollers on the upper
avenue.
I can close my eyes and fancy blots the great,
hot hives of brick
THE Pixe’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 195

From the purview of my vision as a juggler
does a trick,

And instead of streets and alleys, where moist
humans palpitate,

I am on the cool, red driveways that curve oft
and undulate,

And I see the bioad piazzas that in other days
I knew,

When I danced in summer twilights in dear,
merry Manitou.

I’m a long time from the mountains, and strange
gods I now pursue,
But my summertime allegiance never shifts
from Manitou;
To the dashing, giddy, royal
Little mountain town I’m loyal,
For the dog’s too old for learning tricks in any
measure new;
Let the seashore claim the wretches who ne’er
saw ‘the Ute Pass skies,
Or the gray old Cheyenne mountain, where the
sweet Ramona lies,
Or who never climbed the cogwheel, never felt
the throb and thrill
As one looks from Pike’s Peak’s shoulder to the
war camp of Bull hill.
Let them tour “where they’re a mind to;” as for
me, my heart is true
To the town of shade and shadow,
Out in snow-capped Colorado—
To the little, perching paradise that men call
Manitou.

(From The Cuicaco REcorp)
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MONUMENT PARK

IN MONUMENT PARK
Read the story of the stones!
We are in the house of thrones,
On the graves of empires dead
When the earth but giants bred,
And our race of petty men
Lived but in the prophet’s ken.
Crumbled are their palace walls,
Roofless lie their empty halls.
And the pillars stand in vain
Bowed beneath their ancient strain.
Dust are all the kings today
Who amid these courts held sway.
Humbled are the temple gods,
And the broken idol nods
O’er the altar, bare and cold,
Where the victim knelt of old;
But the groups of regal forms,
Changeless through a thousand storms,
Mute historians of the past,
Tell the ancient tales at last.
Nay, what grace can artifice
Add to such a scene as this!
Then away with fancy’s guess!
Better Nature’s truthfulness,
Simple, beautiful, sincere.
She hath nobler history here,
Eloquent to every heart
More than utterance of art,
Solemn as a chanted hymn
In cathedral cloister dim.
Even the savage in this dell
Felt the soul within him swell
With the sense of higher things
Which the best of nature brings.

ErNEst WHITNEY
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 197

UTE PASS

am

UTE PASS

Vast corridor through Nature’s roofless halls,
Pike beckons welcome far across the land

To this sole gateway through its granite walls,
By Chaos wrought with harsh primeval hand.

He scarred his pathway through the frightful chasin
With shattered ledge and splintered crag in air,
And cliffs that writhe as though, in torturing spasm,
Some hideous monster met the Gorgon’s stare.

But only once he through the ravine stormed,
While year by year roamed Beauty in the path,
And wheresoe’er she stept, that spot transformed
Bears her soft smile amid his work of wrath.
ERNEST WHITNEY.
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CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN

&

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN

Far-off plains and mesas glow
With the joy of morning light,
Mountain streamlets, singing, flow
Fresh and pure and sparkling bright
Through fair field and shady glen,

In the shadow of Cheyenne.

High to heaven, peak on peak,
Towers the grand old mountain range,
Whose majestic outlines speak
Steadfastness amid all change;
Power and might beyond our ken
Here in shadow of Cheyenne.

How the voice of Nature calls!
Rousing a responsive cry :—
“Lord, Thy revelation falls
Not on heedless heart or eye,
But as saving grace to men
From the shadow of Cheyenne!”
Louisa CARROLL THOMAS

TO A FIR TREE
(On Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado)

I have lain under thee long hours alone,

And listened to the music of thy moan,

Now the unworded wail of helpless grief,
Now the hushed whispering of leaf to leaf,
Now the soft note of cherished hope and cheer
That even the wild bird stops his song to hear,
Now the grim silence of a hopeless heart,
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND Mytu 199

Yet evermore I feel thou hast a word,

By which my soul to nobler aims is stirred.
What is the secret that thou wouldst impart?
What moveth thee, O Fir Tree? Canst thou tell
Thy passion unto one who loves thee well?

Or doth my awkward sense misread thy mood,
Thou dreaming poet of the dreamy wood,
Musician of the lonely mountain dell?

Art thou still murmuring o’er that melody,
Sweet mother of thy only memory,

The legendary music of his lyre

Who led thy forest folk in Arcady?

Who taught them to the mountains to aspire?
Who taught them to be beautiful, until

Long lives of yearning passion gave us thee?
For thou art lofty, lone and beautiful,

To brighter, holier skies aspiring still,

Yet loving sheltering cliffs, so to annul

The wrenching storms and keep thy perfect grace,
The pure ideal of this fane-like place.

Sweet the traditions of that earlier day

When laughing dryads, in the woodland gay,

In careless love of simple happiness, —

Learned how the poet’s inspirations bless.

I will not doubt a spirit in thy bole,

That bears some near relation to a soul.

Nay, who can tell me when that sacred flame,
Called life, can first a soul immortal claim?
Since life is life, let all life sacred be,

Nor hold it lightly even in a tree.

There may be truth in strong old myths concealed,
Whereby life’s deeper mysteries are revealed.
Think we one ancient people only heard

The voice of God, or strove to speak his word?

Ernest WHITNEY
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IN NORTH CHEYENNE CANYON

Aloft to the sunset light towers the ledge ;

The ivy hangs heavily over the edge,

As a cataract ready to fall o’er its face

Had paused ere its plunge for the fear of the place.

The harebell and columbine cling to the cliff,

Where the frost-king hath carven his weird hieroglyph,
Like the spots of bright color on manuscript old,
Where the secrets of faith and of magic are told.

And here hover readers, the raven and dove,

From the same palimpsest reading hatred and love,
And turning to utterance mystic the spell

They have read from the runes on the rock in the dell.

’Tis a temple enchanted and hallowed of old,
And its priests are the fir trees so solemnly stoled,
Ever chanting in murmuring harmony low

In anthems the mysteries none other know,

Ever shedding their sweet benedictions of peace

On the soul that here seeketh in nature release.
Ernest WHITNEY

THE SEVEN FALLS

These are man’s seven ages in the stream
Of life eternal, hurrying with the roar
And rush of madness to the goal; and sore
With toil to make life’s rugged pathway seem
Less painful. Half in air, as they did deem
Strong-binding earth no part of them, but bore
A life ethereal, and therefore wore
This cloud-white livery, bright with heaven’s gleam.
Earth is the jagged cliff in Time’s long course,
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MyTH 201

Life’s death leap; o’er it, from an unknown source,
Life breaks, a living stream before, and still

Flows on mysterious missions to fulfill
Beyond the present, toward the unknown sea,
Down the long reaches of eternity.

ERNEST \VHITNEY
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HYMN TO COLORADO

To thee, our State, we consecrate
Our hearts with one acclaim;
We promise thee, where’er we be,

To honor thy fair name.
Thy flag unfold, Silver and Gold,
Let truth and right prevail,
With loyalty and liberty,
Hail, Colorado, hail!

Thy men shall be all brave and free,
Thy women pure and true;

May peace and love come from above
To bless whate’er they do.

O land of pine and columbine,
Of fruitful plain and vale,

Of upland bleak and lofty peak,
Hail, Colorado, hail!

To thee we sing, to thee we bring
The tribute of our praise;
Be thine the joy without alloy,
The ever happy days.
O land of light and sun-kissed height,
Far-famed in song and tale;
O fair and great Centennial State,
Hail, Colorado, hail!
ELIyAH CLARENCE HILLs
MYTHS

rd

THE UTE IDEA OF CREATION

The Great Spirit made Pike’s Peak first of all by pour-
ing ice and snow through a hole which he made in the sky
by turning a stone round and round. He then stepped off
the clouds on to the mountain top, and descended part way
and planted trees by putting his finger on the ground. The
sun melted the snow, and the water ran down the mountain-
side and nurtured the trees and made the streams. After
that he made fish for the rivers out of the small end of his
staff. He made birds by blowing some leaves which he
took from the ground under the trees. Next he created the
beasts out of the rest of his staff, but he created the grizzly
bear out of the big end, and made him master of all the
others.

Man was created later, as follows: The daughter of
the Great Spirit ventured too far from home, and fell into
the power of the grizzly bear whom she was forced to marry.
The red men were the fruit of this marriage. The men were
taken under the protection of the Great Spirit; but the
grizzly bears were punished by being compelled to walk on
four feet, whereas before they had walked on two.

THE SWEET AND BITTER SPRINGS

In the interesting little volume entitled Adventures in
Mexico and the Rocky Mountains (London, 1847), by George
F. Ruxton, Esq., a member of the Royal Geographical Society
of Great Britain, who visited this region in the spring of
1847, there is an interesting description of the Fontaines-
Qui-Bouillent, or Boiling Fountains, in the picturesque little
valley where now lies the village of Manitou. This hardy
204 CoLorADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

traveler, after extraordinary adventures in Old and in New
Mexico, came with his favorite pony Panchito and a train
of mules across the mountains to the Arkansas River, and
thence north to the slopes of Pike’s Peak, which he describes
as a hunters’ paradise. Here he rested a while to enjoy the
chase and the cool bubbling waters of the Boiling Springs.
In the account of his first visit to these springs, Ruxton says:
“The valley narrowed considerably, and, turning an angle
with the creek, I was at once shut in by mountains and ele-
vated ridges, which rose on each side of the stream. This
was now a rapid torrent, tumbling over rocks and stones, and
fringed with oaks and a shrubbery of brush. A few miles
on the canyon opened out into a shelving glade; and on the
right bank of the stream, and raised several feet above it, was
a flat white rock in which was a round hole, where one of the
celebrated springs hissed and bubbled with its escaping gas.
I had been cautioned against drinking this, being directed
to follow the stream a few yards to another, which is the
true soda spring.”’

He then relates how his horses and mules drank greedily
of the sulphur spring, and then licked and scraped with their
teeth the white rock that enclosed it; while he proceeded up
the stream to the other spring, “about forty yards from the
first, but immediately above the river, issuing from a little
basin in the flat white rock, and trickling over the edge into
the stream. The escape of gas in this was much stronger
than in the other, and was similar to water boiling smartly.
I had provided myself” (he goes on to say) “with a tin cup
holding about a pint; but, before dipping it in, I divested
myself of my pouch and belt, and sat down in order to enjoy
the draught at my leisure. I was half dead with thirst; and,
tucking up the sleeves of my hunting-shirt, I dipped the cup
into the midst of the bubbles, and raised it hissing and spark-
ling to my lips. Such a draught! Three times, without
drawing a breath, was it replenished and. emptied, almost
blowing up the roof of my mouth with its effervescence. It
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 205

was equal to the very best soda-water, but possesses that
fresh, natural flavor, which manufactured water cannot
impart.

The Indians regard with.awe the ‘medicine’ waters of
these fountains, as being the abode of a spirit who breathes
through the transparent water, and thus, by his exhalations,
causes the perturbation of its surface. The Arapahoes, espe-
cially, attribute to this water-god the power of ordaining
the success or miscarriage of their war-expeditions; and as
their braves pass often by the mysterious springs, when in
search of their hereditary enemies, the Yutas (Utes), in the
‘Valley of Salt’ [1], they never fail to bestow their votive
offerings upon the water-sprite, in order to propitiate the
‘Manitou’ of the fountain, and ensure a fortunate issue to
their ‘path of war.’

Thus at the time of my visit the basin of the spring was
filled with beads and wampum, and pieces of red cloth and
knives, whilst the surrounding trees were hung with strips
of deerskin, cloth, and moccasins, to which, had they been
serviceable, I would most sacrilegiously have helped myself.

This country was once possessed by the Shoshone or
Snake Indians, of whom the Comanches of the plains are a
branch.” Ruxton here says, by way of parenthesis, that
the Utes of the mountains are also a branch of the Shoshone
or Snake Indians, and then continues: “The Snakes, who, in
common with all Indians, possess hereditary legends to ac-
count for all natural phenomena . . , have of course
their legendary version of the causes which created, in the
midst of their hunting-grounds, these two springs of sweet
and bitter water; which are also intimately connected with
the cause of separation between the tribes of “‘Comancite’ aud
the ‘Snake.’ Thus runs the legend :—
Many hundreds of winters ago, when the cotton-woods

 

[1] Or Bayou Salé, sometimes called, with a curious mixture of
French and Spanish, the Bayou Salado. It is in South Park, and
from it the Indians of this region chiefly secured their salt.
206 CoLorRADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

on the Big River were no higher than an arrow, and the red
men, who hunted the buffalo on the plains, all spoke the
same language, and the pipe of peace breathed its social
cloud of kinnik-kinnek whenever two parties of hunters met
on the boundless plains,—when, with hunting-grounds and
game of every kind in the greatest abundance, no nation dug
up the hatchet with another because one of its hunters fol-
lowed the game into their bounds, but, on the contrary,
loaded for him his back with choice and fattest meat, and
ever proffered the soothing pipe before the stranger ‘
left the village,—it happened that two hunters of different
nations met one day on a small rivulet, where both had re-
paired to quench their thirst. A little stream of water, rising
from a spring on a rock within a few feet of the bank,
trickled over it, and fell splashing into the river. To this
the hunters repaired; and whilst one sought the spring itself,
where the water, cold and clear, reflected on its surface the
image of the surrounding scenery, the other, tired by his ex-
ertions in the chase, threw himself at once to the ground, and
plunged his face into the running stream.

The latter had been unsuccessful in the chase, and per-
haps his bad fortune, and the sight of the fat deer which the
other hunter threw from his back before he drank at the
crystal spring, caused a feeling of jealousy and ill-humor to
take possession of his mind. The other, on the contrary, be-
fore he satisfied his thirst, raised in the hollow of his hand a
portion of the water, and, lifting it toward the sun, reversed
his hand, and allowed it to fall upon the ground,—a libation
to the Great Spirit who had vouchsafed him a successful hunt,
and the blessing of the refreshing water with which he was
about to quench his thirst.

Seeing this, and being reminded that he had neglected
the usual offering, only increased the feeling of envy and
annoyance which the unsuccessful hunter permitted to get
the mastery of his heart; and the Evil Spirit at that moment
entering his body, his temper fairly flew away, and he sought
THE Pixe’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND Mytu 207

some pretence by which to provoke a quarrel with the stranger
Indian at the spring.

“Why does a stranger,’ he asked, rising from the stream
at the same time, ‘drink at the spring-head, when one to
whom the fountain belongs contents himself with the water
that runs from it?’

‘The Great Spirit places the cool water at the spring,’
answered the other hunter, ‘that his children may drink it
pure and undefiled. The running water is for the beasts which
scour the plains. Au-sa-qua is a chief of the Shoshone: he
drinks at the head-water.’

‘The Shoshone is but a tribe of the Comanche,’ re-
turned the other. ‘Waco-mish leads the grand nation. Why
does a Shoshone dare to drink above him?’

‘He has said it. The Shoshone drinks at the spring-
head; other nations of the stream which runs into the fields.
Au-sa-qua is chief of his nation. The Comanche are brothers.
Let them both drink of the same water.’

‘The Shoshone pays tribute to the Comanche. Waco-
mish leads that nation to war. Waco-mish is chief of the
Shoshone, as he is of his own people.’

“Waco-mish lies; his tongue is forked like the rattle-
snake’s; his heart is black as the Misho-tunga (bad spirit).
When the Manitou made his children, whether Shoshone or
Comanche, Arapahoe, Shi-an, or Pa-ne, he gave them buffalo
to eat, and the pure water of the fountain to quench their
thirst. He said not to one, Drink here, and to another, Drink
there; but gave the crystal spring to all, that all might drink.’

Waco-mish almost burst with rage as the other spoke;
but his coward heart alone prevented him from provoking an
encounter with the calm Shoshone. He, made thirsty by the
words he had spoken,—for the red man is ever sparing of
his tongue,—again stooped down to the spring to quench his
thirst, when the subtle warrior of the Comanche suddenly
threw himself upon the kneeling hunter, and, forcing his head
into the bubbling water, held him down with all his strength,
208 CoLoRADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

until his victim no longer struggled, his stiffened limbs re-
laxed, and he fell forward over the spring, drowned and dead.

Over the body stood the murderer, and no sooner was the
deed of blood consummated than bitter remorse took pos-
session of his mind, where before had reigned the fiercest
passion and vindictive hate. With hands clasped to his fore-
head, he stood transfixed with horror, intently gazing on his
victim, whose head still remained immersed in the fountain.
Mechanically he dragged the body a few paces from the wa-
ter, which, as soon as the head of the dead Indian was with-
drawn, the Comanche saw suddenly and strangely disturbed.
Bubbles sprang up from the bottom, and, rising to the sur-
face, escaped in hissing gas. A thin vapory cloud arose, and,
gradually dissolving, displayed to the eyes of the trembling
murderer the figure of an aged Indian, whose long snowy hair
and venerable beard, blown aside by a gentle air from his
breast, discovered the well-known totem. of the great Wan-
kan-aga, the father of the Comanche and Shoshone nation,
whom the tradition of the tribe, handed down by skillful hier-
oglyphics, almost deified for the good actions and deeds of
bravery this famous warrior had performed when on earth.

Stretching out a war-club towards the affrighted mur-
derer, the figure thus addressed him:

‘Accursed of my tribe! this day thou hast severed the
link between the mightiest nations of the world, while the
blood of the brave Shoshone cries to the Manitou for ven-
geance. May the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in their
throats!’ Thus saying, and swinging his ponderous war-
club (made from the elk’s horn) round his head, he dashed
out the brains of the Comanche, who fell headlong into the
spring, which, from that day to the present moment, remains
rank and nauseous, so that, not everi when half dead with
thirst, can one drink the foul water of that spring.

The good Wan-kan-aga, however, to perpetuate the mem-
ory of the Shoshone warrior, who was renowned in his tribe
for valor and nobleness of heart, struck with the same aveng-
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 209

ing club a hard flat rock, which overhung the rivulet, just out
of sight of this scene of blood; and forthwith the rock opened
into a round clear basin, which instantly filled with bubbling.
sparkling water, than which no thirsty hunter ever drank a
sweeter or a cooler draught. Thus the two springs remain,
an everlasting memento of the foul murder of the brave Sho-
shone and the stern justice of the good Wan-kan-aga.”

This legend is interesting; but, unfortunately, Ruxton
does not give the slightest clew to the source from which he
drew it; and, moreover, it bears internal evidence of con-
siderable embellishment at the hands of the Englishman who
recorded it. [1]

 

{1] The French name of the springs, Fontaines-Qui-Bouillent, calls
our attention to the fact that this part of Colorado once formed part
of the French colony of Louisiana, which was ceded to Spain in 1762,
and retroceded to France in 1800. In 1803 the United States pur-
chased it from France. As finally determined, the division-line in
this immediate region, between Louisiana and the Spanish colonies,
followed the Arkansas river west to the continental divide, which it
followed in a northerly direction. During the greater part of the
colonial period all the country about the present town of Colorado
Springs, north of the Arkansas river and east of the main range of
mountains, was French territory, and not Spanish, as is generally be-
lieved. This explains the prevalence of French names north of
Pueblo, such as Fontaines-Qui-Bouillent, Bayou Salé, Bijou, Platte,
Cache-La-Poudre (or Cache-A-Poudre), etc. Even the spelling of
Manitou and Cheyenne is French.
210 CoLorapo CoLLEGE PUBLICATION

MYTHS OF THE
PIKE’S PEAK REGION

I
PIKE’S PEAK

In distant golden days, when all the land
Was fair and sweet and all the sky was blue,
The Earthly Paradise was situate
Upon the smiling slopes that rise to meet
The Rockies’ mighty chain. Here dwelt in peace
A chosen race, for whom the luscious fruits
And strengthening yellow maize
Then grew untended by the hand of man,
And beasts that now are savage gladly came
And gave themselves a willing sacrifice.
But with the flight of time this happy folk
Grew weary of their quiet life, and longed
For other, greater joys, until their love
Of Manitou was turned to bitter hate,
And all the earth was filled with violence.

Then Manitou was wroth
When he beheld that this his chosen race
Was lower than the beasts. To cleanse the earth,
He opened wide the fountains of the deep
Till waters hid the land.
The lesser spirits of the hills and plains,
Who dwell among mankind and guide their acts,
Fleeing in fear before the rising flood,
Rushed toward the Western Gate
That leads to Heaven, bearing in their hands
Fragments of soil or bits of precious stone,

 

[Author’s Note: I first read these myths in a little volume of prose
entitled Legends of the Pike’s Peak Region, by Ernest Whitney, as-
sisted by William S. Alexander, Denver, 1892, and later, with varia-
tions, in several other works. It has been my aim merely to make
coherent, and to put into verse, those portions of these myths that
seemed to me of most importance, The descriptive matter, for the
most part, is mine. The source of these myths is not known.]
THE Prixke’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytH 211

With which to build elsewhere a better earth.
But Manitou forbade that they should bring
Their worldly spoil to Heaven;

And so they dropped their treasures in a heap
That towered high above the restless flood
And formed a lofty Peak.

A monument of precious earth and stone,
Built by the Gods, the noble Peak still stands
And marks the Gate to Heaven.

I
CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN

One mat, one woman, ’scaped the angry flood,
And floated many days in a canoe
Made of a hollow stalk of Indian corn
(The corn, it seems, grew larger then than now),
Until their vessel rested on the Peak.
Floating on other stalks came beast and fowl
To join them there; and all did freely eat
The wrinkled kernels of the yellow maize.
The Manitou took pity on the few
Who fled the sea and reached the Holy Mount.
He loosed the Dragon Thirst, a monstrous beast,
Which plunged into the tide
And drank and drank until the earth was dry,—
So dry and parched that Manitou had fear
Lest not a drop be left,
And bade the dragon cease. .
But when the greedy monster sought to rise
At Manitou’s command,
Swollen with drink it fell to earth again,
A crushed and shapeless mass, and there it died.
The dragon’s body, with its wrinkled sides
And hornéd back, still lies where then it fell.
Its stony face looks toward the south and east,
Whence come the mists that savor of the sea,
As if it waited for another flood.
212 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

Wl
THE CANOE

When the dark waters fell,
The man and woman from the dizzy heights
Looked on the fertile plains that lay below,
And saw that they were fair.
Enameled fields and winding brooks were bathe:
In golden sunshine. Far as eye could reach,
The verdant plains rejoiced and bade them come.
Once more the god took pity on the two,
And fashioned for their use a stout canoe,
In which they glided down the mountain-side.:
The track they left behind may still be seen
Upon the eastern slope;
And the canoe, high curved at either end,
With two who ply the paddle, seems to ride
The tossing waves that from the granite Peak
Roll toward Saint Peter’s Dome.
There shall it stand as long as man endures,
A token of the saving grace of God.

Iv

THE GARDEN OF THE GODS AND PALMER
AND MONUMENT PARKS

In nestling vales and on the grassy plains
Beneath the Holy Mount, the chosen race
Increased in-numbers more than all that were
Before them. And the gracious Manitou,

To prove his love, did stamp tipon the Peak

The image of his face, that all might see

And worship him. Unto the Mount each day,
When first ’twas gilded by the morning light,

The people lifted up their souls in prayer,

And walked with Manitou. Theirs was the earth
Far as the face was seen o’er plain and hill;

No farther did they venture, lest they meet
THE Pixe’s PEAK REGION IN SonG AND MytTH 213

With hidden foes. Fair was the land to see
Where dwelt this chosen tribe in peace and joy,
Envied by other races of mankind
Who knew not Manitou.
But, lo! from out the north
Came a barbaric host of giants great
And tall, that pressed upon them with the force
Of charging buffalo,
And with the fierceness of the mountain lion.
In numbing fear they fled
Within the shadow of the Holy Mount,
For in the sight of their titanic foes
They were as grasshoppers.
With the invading host came beasts diverse
From all that were before them,—monstrous beasts
That would devour the earth and tread it down.
In prayer the children of the Manitou
Called on their god for help,—
Then came to pass a wondrous miracle:
The face of Manitou was seen to turn
And gaze upon the giants,
Who each and all were straightway turned to stone.

As then they stood, these giants stand today:
The scattere!l bands of warriors, red and brown,
Are found to east and north, time-worn and scarred,
With legs deep buried in the drifted sand;

Some bolder than the rest are near the Mount,
And some are far away in sheltered vales,

As if they sought to hide;

Some hold their shields uplifted as to meet
The gaze of Manitou;

Some crouch in horror of impending doom.

A motley crew of mighty men are they;

Tall grenadiers, erect as though on guard,
And Chinese mandarins;
214

CoLorapo CoLLEGE PUBLICATION

Giants with mortarboards and scholar’s hoods;

Some without ears or nose,

And some with crooked noses, long and red.
The beasts the giants drove are stranger still:

Big, clumsy elephants with drooping trunks;

Slow-moving, patient camels, massive bears

With pointed jaws, and tawny, bearded lions;

Smooth, glossy beavers with flat, scaly tails,

And mild-eyed seals with bodies grayish-brown ;

Ferocious crocodiles,

And timid turtles that are slow but sure;

Huge wood-frogs, reddish-brown,

That in the act of leaping changed to stone;

And mammoth penguins, too, half bird, half man.

Mingled with beasts and giants, odd to tell,

Are little goblins that came out to gaze,

Some starry night, and stayed too long, until

Surprised by dawn, they also turned to stone. .
Unto the end of time

These strange fantastic forms shall stand as now,

A warning to all men who, hard of heart,

May dare defy the Father of us all.

Vv
CAMERON'S CONE

The chosen race was brave
When it beheld the gracious Manitou ;
But when he hid his face in the gray mist
These men of little faith were sore afraid
And murmured in their hearts ;
Nor dared to chase the deer or plant the maize
Until the clouds were parted and the face
Looked forth again. An embassy was sent
To pray the Manitou
That they might ever have his face in view,
By dav resplendent in the golden light
THE PiKe’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytTH 215

Of the creative sun, and bathed at night
In the soft radiance of the silvery moon.
They sent four ancient chieftains, bold of heart
And purified by fasts and holy rites,
To scale the Mount that rose to Heaven’s Gate.
But Manitou was wroth that men should dare
To tread upon the image of his face,
And in his anger seized the thunderbolts
And hurled them at the earth.
In deepest darkness aii the iand was wrapped,
Save where the flames ran down the mountain-side.
Terrific winds were loosed,
That scourged the trembling plains with blinding dust.
It rained a grievous hail on man and beast,
On tree and herb; and with volcanic shock
The hills were rent in twain.
Four days the Mount was hid from human eyes.
At last the storm was spent,
The winds were seized and bound, the hail was checked,
The twisted thunderbolts were laid away,
And dimly through the clouds the sacred Mount
Was visible. With terror men beheld
A mountain scarred and broken. Manitou
Had hurled the summit of the lofty Peak
Upon the chieftains ere they reached the top,
And gave them death. Half way ‘twixt Peak and plain
The ancient summit lay,
And the stern image of the Manitou
Was cleft and blackened by the thunderbolts.
Unto this day, upon the lesser peak,
The face of Manitou is seen by men,—
A charred and riven face. And to this day
The winds are loosed, the thunderbolts are hurled,
And flames of fire run down the mountain-side,
When Manitou is wroth.
216 COLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION

Vi
THE BOILING SPRINGS OF MANITOU

Although the storm was lulled, for many weeks
The face of Manitou
Frowned on the world; the sky was overcast,
And the cofd sun shone dimly through the clouds;
The sparkling streams that one-time danced with joy
Dragged their slow length along, and the fish died
And made the water foul, so that mankind
Did loathe to drink it; the cold east wind brought
A grievous plague of locusts, which devoured
The trees and herbs till no green thing remained.
Then starved both man and beast,
And all the earth was full of pestilence.

With humble, contrite hearts, the stricken race
Besought the Manitou
To pardon their transgressions and to stay
The deadly plague. Once more the Manitou
Took pity on the puny race of men,
And sent a lesser spirit from the sky,
Who came where plain and Holy Mount were one,
And smote a rock. Forth gushed a living well
Of bubbling water. Fair it was to see,
But bitter to the taste, for still the earth
Was foul with pestilence. He smote again;
Again he smote; well after well gushed forth,
Each sweeter than the other.
And then the spirit breathed the breath of life
Into the boiling springs,
That all who drank, repentful of their sins,
The ever troubled waters,
Should be made whole and cleansed of all disease;
And thus the plague was stayed.

Although the ancient race has passed away,
The mystic boiling springs of Manitou
THE PIKE’s PEAK REGION IN SONG AND MytTH 217

Pour forth their healing waters as of yore,
That whosoever drinks be sound of flesh,
If he be pure of heart.

ELIJAH CLARENCE HILus
INDEX

SONGS

ANONYMOUS:
The Town of Sun and Shadow..................5- 194
—Chicago Record.

Epitu Cotpy BANFIELD:

In. thé: ROCKIES. ca-cc Geis ata oie koe aw dees 176
“I See These Mountains Now Forever With

Changed: Fyés” soccnetee cee tay Suigeng Sige eyed 178
Sailor BloOd 2 sudceees ke eae a ROS ORS 177

—The Place of My Desire, Little, Brown & Co., Boston.

WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER:

The Garden of the Gods............... 02 eee aeee 190
SuRVILLE J. DELAN:
Ditmbere Lane osc eee ees a eis a ae wage whe 186
—Crude Ore.
J. D. DILLENBACK:
Colorado: 22.2-0c08 ed Ae Soe ORE pee ak eee 180
ELIJAH CLARENCE HILLs:
Golorad® cscs neq udav ee ces Reem eRe Wee eel 181
Hymn to Colorado............ 6000. c cece eee eee 202
26: Pike's Peak cio: vce vhacs Sheen eet eee 183
HELEN Hunt Jackson:
Cheyenne Mountain ........... 0... cee eee eee eee 169
Return to the Hills....... 0... cece cee eee 170
With Them That Do Rejoice.............0 0.0 a ee 172

—Helen Hunt Jackson's Poems, Copyright 1892, by
Robert Brothers.

VIRGINIA DoNAGHE McC.urc:

Goloradoe i... ieiscweeleeiid kek OGG hee aed aae 180
—A Pilgrimage to the Rockies.
Helen Hunt’s Grave ..... 0... ccc cence eet en eevee 175

—The Century Magazine.
SONGS— Continued,

Exma P. SEABURY:

Old Winter in Colorado..........0 cee cece eee ee

Mary G. SLocum:

Brom My Doorways ex ecensneneva wae naunenees

—The Interior.

Louisa CARROLL THOMAS:

Cheyenne Mountain ............. 0.0 cece eee

—Jountain Sunshine, Vol. II, No. 1.
Epcar P. VANGASSEN:

NP ARTEOUY. ek hc digas accord Sogdlc tones arene dea gape oeenel ace eaet

ERNEST WHITNEY:

Colorddenjacaucdan sik aOueaed aha altered
—Pictures and Poems of the Pike’s Peak Region.

Colorado Springs) s.04+ecaveneesewess aren ewenes
Gateway of the Garden of the Gods..............

—Pictures and Poems.

In Monument Park. 0.6006. 005 nsw deeenan ere ewe

—Pictures and Poems.

In North Cheyenne Canyon ..................04.
PHG'S: ROAM sire ois eepieh pica Stxntninrgowecem Acca Fanenenddn davies

—Pictures and Poems.

The Mourners on Cheyenne..................05.

—Pictures and Poems.

"Ene: S6ven als oe v3 sieapiace ae aresital odie aie Ree ee wera
"TOs a Bin Drei cat sen iocksem acest aera eee eA

UGE ERAIS GN possi ciancubians ke tad oan ciara aodod aula edhe cdgta aetaiton
“What Is the Help That Cometh From the Hills’....

STANLEY Woop:

CHEYENNE CANYON, 0 iss ach stlenecese oelacessueasde Wieueig on iates aie

—Rhymes of the Rockies.
MYTHS

The Ute Idea of Creation...........0. 0 ccc cece 203
—Out West, November, 1873.
The Sweet and Bitter Springs..................0.. 203

—Adventures in Mexico and the Rocky Mountains, by
George F. Ruxton, London, 1847.

ELIJAH CLARENCE HILLs:
Myths of the Pike’s Peak Region:

TP Bikes Peake sassy cove ee aun aerewieeiwcusd y 210

II Cheyenne Mountain ...... Sodus Se dea teat 211

ULE: “LHe Canoe 2s ona pcos odie paleoa we heaie annals 212
IV The Garden of the Gods and Palmer and

Monument Parks .......... 0.000 cece eee 212

Wo sGamneron’s C6net.n ras daw wea a ieee teh ees ses 214

VI The Boiling Springs of Manitou............... 216
Page
Missing
In Printing
(Reprinted from THE RoMANIC REVIEW, Vol. V., No. z, April-June, 1914.]

pt

Co oHyvriS

vet

THE QUECHUA DRAMA, OLLANTA

I

LLANTA is the most important literary work that has been
composed in any language indigenous to America. The
drama itself has little intrinsic merit, but it has become famous by
reason of the fact that many suppose it to have been composed
before the conquest of Peru by the Spaniards. This theory of the
antiquity of Ollanta has been held by Barranca,! Tschudi,? Mark-
ham,* Pacheco Zegarra,* and others of less weight; and it has come
to be accepted by a not inconsiderable number of historians and
writers of encyclopedic articles.5

1 José S. Barranca, Ollanta, 6 sea la severidad de un padre y la clemencia de
un rey, drama dividido en tres actos, traducido del quichua al castellano, con
notas diversas, Lima, 1868.

2j. J. von Tschudi, Die Kechuasprache, 3 vols., Wien, 1853. (The second
part contains the text of Ollanta.)

—, Ollanta. Ein altperuanisches drama aus der Kechuasprache. Uber-
setat und commentirt. Wien, 1875. -

, Ollanta, in K. Akademie der Wissenschaften. Denkschriften. Phi-
losophisch-historische Klasse. Wien, 1876.

The second and third publications contain what is known as Tschudi’s
second text of Ollanta. All quotations from Ollanta and all line-numbers that
are cited in the present article refer to Tschudi’s first text; but whenever
Tschudi’s opinion with regard to the origin of Ollanta is quoted, the reference
is e pages of the third publication.

Guts R. Markham, Ollanta, an Ancient Ynca drama. Translated
from the Original Quinchua. London, 1871 (Contains a Quechua text, with a
translation into English).

The Incas of Peru, London, 1910 (Contains Apu Ollentay, a translation

 

 

¥

int lish).
Cin Pacheco Zegarra, Ollantai, drame en vers quechuas du temps des
a  traduit et commenté, Paris, 1878.
5 Cf. Encyclopedia Britannica, vol. XXI (1911), p. 260 (speaks of Ollanta
as an “Inca drama”); New International Encyclopedia, vol. XV (1905), p. 638
(“ There was also a considerable body of song, legend and drama handed down
by oral tradition, Among these the drama of Ollanta, committed to writing soon
after the conquest, has been translated into several languages”); Winsor’s
Narrative and Critical History of America, vol. I (1880), p. 282 (“... the
drama of Ollanta, in all essential points, is of Inca origin,” in article written by
Markham); John Fiske, The Discovery of America, vol. II (1892), p. 363

ey 197
128 The Romanic Review

If Ollanta was composed before the Spanish conquest, it is, with
the possible exception of a few short lyrics, the only specimen of
ancient Quechua® poetry that has survived, and it is therefore
of the greatest interest to students Of comparative literature and
to American archeologists. When we are told that a com-
plete dramatic text has come down to us, virtually intact, from
the ancient Peruvians, we are to be excused if we doubt at first.
The burden of proof certainly rests on those who claim antiquity
for Ollanta, and scholars should not accept the claim without con-
clusive evidence. It is the aim of this article to give an account
of Ollanta, and then to present whatever evidence we now possess
both for and against its antiquity.

The following is a résumé of the play:

Act I. Ollanta, a chieftain of lowly birth, has won the love
of Cusi-Coyllur (“‘Joy-Star”), daughter of the Inca Pachacutic.
He speaks of his love to his servant, Piqui-Chaqui (‘‘ Flea-Foot’’),
and later to the high priest, Uillac-Umu (prophet or seer), both
of whom warn him of the risk of wooing the Inca’s daughter. In
another scene the queen, Ccoya, who knows of this love-affair, seeks
to console her daughter, who weeps and declares her fear that
Ollanta has deserted her. Enter ; fag. Enter a chorus of boys
and girls who dance. The ba& b distract Cusi-Coyllur.®

(“The Incas had bardic recitals and theatrical exhibitions; and one ancient
drama, entitled ‘ Ollanta,’ has come down to us”); James Bryce, South America
(1913), p. 155 £. (“ There were, however, dramas which used to be acted, and
among them one considerable work which, long prese y oral recitations,
was written down in the seventeenth century by Dr. Valdes Spaniard, the
priest of Sicuani, and generally held to be in ft in_of native authorship,
though perhaps touched up by Spanish taste. This is the so-called drama of
Ollantay ”); e¢ al.

6 Or “Quichua.”” Most modern scholars prefer “Quechua” or “ Queshua.”
Thus, Tschudi, Pacheco Zegarra, Middendorf, Pietschmann, Lenz, and others.

7 The orthography of the proper names is that of Tschudi’s first text, with
the one exception of Uillac-Umu (Huillca-Uma in the first text) which Tschudi,
in his second edition, adopts from Markham’s text, and which Middendorf (see

Pp e%130 of this article) also adopts.

he following is a literal translation of Middendorf’s version of this
so “O Tuya” is repeated after each line): “Little bird, do not eat,—O
Tuya,—In my princess’ garden—-Do not thus’ consume—The delicious maize—
White are the grains—The ears are tender,—Of good savor within ;—Soft are
the leaves—The snare for the greedy;—In the bird-lime thou shalt stick—I
shall cut off thy claws,—And thou shalt be caught—Ask of the Piscaca—You
see it is strangled—Ask for its heart ;—Seek its feathers ;—You see it has been

 

  
 
   
  
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 129

Exit the boys, and the maidens sing a yarahwi.? Ollanta appears
before the king, and asks his daughter in marriage. The king re-
fuses in anger, and dismisses Ollanta. In a monologue the latter
gives expression to his sorrow and resentment? Ollanta and
Piqui-Chaqui k of flight from Cuzco. A song by an invisible
singer is heard )

torn to pieces—It picked only one little grain;—The same will befall you,—If
only one (grain) is missing.” The spirit of this song would seem to indicate
that it may be an adaptation of a folk-song. The twya is a small bird. The
biscaca is a larger bird whose dead body is sometimes fastened to a tree, to
frighten away the tuya.

® The following is a literal translation of Middendorf’s version: “Two
loving doves mourn and grieve, sigh and coo on an old, dry tree-trunk: a cruel
fate has separated them. But one, it is told, lost its beloved companion in a
stony field; it had never left it alone before. And the dove weeps and laments
when it sees its companion and finds that it is already dead. And it sings in
these words: ‘Where are thy eyes, O dove, and where thy lovely breast, thy
heart so dear to me, thy softly caressing mouth?’ And the abandoned dove,
wandering from rock to rock, calling out in tears, flies hither and thither, ever
asking: ‘My heart, where art thou?’ Thus speaking, it flutters, and one
morning it sinks down dead.”

10 As this monologue is generally considered the strongest passage in the
drama, a literal translation of Middendorf’s version is given here: “O Ollanta,
Ollanta, thus does he (the king) expose thee to the scorn of all the land in
return for so many services which thus hast rendered! O Cusi-Coyllur, my
wife, today I have lost thee. I have brought thee to destruction, O princess.
O my dove! O Cuzco, O beautiful city, from today, in the future, I shall be an
enemy, an enemy, who will cruelly tear open thy bosom, to cast to the vultures
thy heart, this tyrant, thy Inca. Persuading the Antis and seducing my country-
men, I shall bring many, many thousands, armed with shields. On the Sacsahua-
man thou wilt perceive my warriors like a cloud Then the flames will rise; thou
wilt sleep in blood and thy Inca at my feet. Then shall he learn whether the
valleys will fail me,. whether thou still hast a voice. ‘By no means can I give
her to thee,’ he said to me, (speaking) of his daughter. And then this word
also escaped him: ‘But she could not be for thee,’ he said, terribly enraged, as I
besought him on my knees. He is king because I am here: every one knows
that. Now let happen (what may)!” Sacsahuaman is a hill overlooking Cuzco
on which are the ruins of an ancient fortress or palace. Cf. Cieza de Leén,
Crénica del Peri, Segunda parte, (edicién de Jiménez de la Espada; Madrid.
1880), cap. LI; Markham, The Incas of Peru, p. 32 f.; and Bryce, South Amer-
ica, p. 118. ee

11 The following is a literal translation of Middendorf’s version of the Song
of the Unknown: “A dove that I cherished I lost in a moment. If you wish
to see her, seek her near here. She is loving and fair of face: her name is
Star. You might mistake her for another: look at her well. The moon and
the sun, in bright radiance, shine upon her brow joyously. And her soft hair
of deepest black forms with the white of her beautiful ear a contrast that
blinds the eye. The eye-brows form rainbows upon her lovely face: two suns
130 The Romanic Review

Act II. A messenger reports to the king and his general, Ru-
mifiahui (“ Stone-Eye”), that the Andean mountaineers have re-
belled and proclaimed Ollanta their king. The scene now shifts to
the fortress of Ollanta-Tambo.’* The chief’s and people proclaim
Ollanta king. In a lonely mountain pass Rumifiahui bemoans his
defeat by Ollanta’s forces. The scene shifts to the convent of the
elect virgins in Cuzco. Pitu-Salla (“ Mother-Stone”) urges Yma-
Sumac (“ Very-Beautiful”), a girl some ten years of age (the fruit
of the love of Ollanta and Cusi-Coyllur), to remain in the convent;

ut Yma-Sumac does not wish to become an elect virgin, and she
tells of hearing some one sob at night. Rumifiahui meets Piqui-
Chaqui on a street in Cuzco, and tells him that the Inca Pachacutic
is dead and his son, Thupac-Yupanqui, has ascended the throne.
The new Inca urges Rumifiahui to conquer Ollanta. Rumifiahui,
covered with self-inflicted wounds, betakes himself to Ollanta’s
fortress, and declares that, having been thus ill treated by the Inca,
he has come to join forces with Ollanta.

Act III. In the convent of the elect virgins, Pitu-Salla leads
Yma-Sumac to the dark dungeon in which Cusi-Coyllur lies bound
with a chain. Mother and daughter recognize each other. In the
king’s palace, a messenger announces the defeat and capture of
Ollanta by Rumifiahui. The latter soon appears and confirms the
news of his victory, relating how he won the confidence of Ollanta,
and how, when Ollanta’s men were drunk during the festival of the

sun, he overpowered them. Ollanta and his followers are brought

botnd baloee the Ines, who at fifet contiemne then te death end ;
then, moved by pity, pardons them. The Inca restores Ollanta to
his former rank, and announces that during his absence in a military
campaign Ollanta shall serve as Inca in his stead. Yma-Sumac

bursts into the hall, and, throwing herself in tears at the king’s feet,
tells of her mother’s cruel imprisonment. The king and his retinue

shine forth from her eyes about which are the rainbows. The eye-lashes
scarcely let the all-victorious glances escape. There dwells love, beaming on all
and captivating hearts. The achancarai (a red flower) blooms on her face, in
the midst of snow: white alternates with red,—such is her appearance. In her
beautiful mouth one sees snowy pearls, and when she smiles her sweet breath
is wafted forth. And her soft neck, smooth as crystal, is as white as snow:
her lovely breasts rise and fall with her bosom. Her tender little hand feels so
soft, and her fingers, when they open, resemble icicles.”

12 The ruins of this structure are twelve leagues from Cuzco. In the early
chronicles they are spoken of as Tampu or Toto. Cf. Garcilaso, Comentarios
reales, Primera parte (Lisbon, 1609), V, 5, and Cieza de Leén, La Crénica del
Peru (Seville, 1533; and in Bibl. de aut. esp., Historiadores primitivos de Indias,
Madrid, 1879), Cap. XCIV. Tschudi (op. cit., p. 185) believs that they date from
a pre-Inca civilization.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 131

go to the convent of the elect virgins, and there Cusi-Coyllur is rec-
ognized by both her brother and her lover. The Inca orders the
release of Cusi-Coyllur, and gives her in marriage to Ollanta; and

the play closes to the accompaniment of music.

The fact that Ollanta first appeared in the Quechua language
has no bearing whatever on the question of the play’s antiquity. It
is a well known fact that in the Spanish colonies the priests were
required to learn the native tongues, and, after residing for many
‘years among the Indians, they came to speak the indigenous lan-
guages as well as Spanish. They translated from Spanish many
Jeligious works and wrote and published grammars and diction-
aries of the native speeches. Sacred dramatic representations were
given both in n Spanish and and in the indigenous languages almost from
the time of the con conquest. Pacheco Zegarra’® states that the~early~
missionaries in Peru composed autos, some of which were in
Quechua only, while in others Spanish and Quechua stanzas alter-

 

nated. According to Beristain,’* at least two plays of Lope de Vega ,

 

were early done into Nahuatl by Bartolomé de Alba, of Aztec
descént, and performed, viz.: El animal profeta y dichoso parricida
San Julién and La madre de la Mejor. D. Vicente G. Quesada, in
his Crénicas potosinas (Paris, 1890), Vol. I, p. 305, gives an
account of scenic fétes at Potosi in the early days of that famous
mining town. They seem to have been largely in the nature of his-
torical pageants, and represented deeds of both the Incas and the
Spanish conquerors. Verses were recited in Spanish and in Quechua.
Pacheco Zegarra’® speaks of several dramas.that were written in
Quechua after the conquest, and gives the titles,—but not the authors
and the dates,—of La muerte de Atahuallpa, Usca Paucar, and
Huasca Inca. Middendorf has published the Quechua plays, E/ hijo
prédigo and Usca Paucar (see page 145 of this article) ; and Mark-
ham has in his possession manuscript copies of Usca Paucar and El
Pobre més rico. Pacheco Zegarra‘’ tells us that his great-uncle, D.

Pedro Zegarra (d. 1839), translated Racine’s Phédre into Quechwa,

18 Op. cit., p. Ixxxv.

14 Biblioteca hispano-americana septentrional, Mexico, 1816-21.

15 Quoted by Menéndez y Pelayo, Antologia de poetas hispano-americanos,
IIT (1894), p. cclxxxyi f.

16 Op. cit., p. cvii.

17 Op, cit., p. cxxiv.

en

vo.
132 The Romanic Review

and that the play was performed at least once. The Quechua lan-
guage is still generally spoken by the Indians in the highlands of
Peru,’® but as the aboriginal population is mostly illiterate, Quechua
‘Literary works come from those who have been trained in Spanish
schools. The regionalista movement of the nineteenth century
which brought, for the time being, new life to Provengal, Catalan,
Welsh and other languages that are in danger of extinction, may
have reached the Quechua also and stimulated interest in Ollanta.

This Quechua drama seems to have come to light between 1770
and 1780 when a manuscript was produced by Dr. Antonio Valdés,
parish priest of Tinta,’® who had the play performed with great
pomp” before his friend, José Gabriel Condorcanqui (1744-1781),
a native chieftain. This chieftain, who was of Inca blood, led a
revolt against the Spaniards in 1780, with the Inca-title of Tupac-
Amaru II, and was defeated and put to death together with all his
Aamily. Immediately after the revolt an order was issued against
the performance of secular plays in the Quechua language. We
‘next hear of Ollanta in an article published in El Museo erudito,
Cuzco, 1837, by D. Manuel Palacios,?* entitled Tradicién de la re-
belién de Ollanta (or Ollantay?), y acto heroico de fidelidad de
Rumifiahui, ambos generales del tiempo de los Incas. In an intro-
duction to this article, Palacios says: “ No encontrandose otra nar-
raciOn escrita de este antiquisimo stuceso que la comedia que en
lengua quechua formd pocos afios ha el Dr. Antonio Valdés, cura
que fué de Sicuani. Bien que confeccionada dicha pieza con el
uniforme relato de la tradicion, se encuentran innovaciones y volun-
tariedades que sin duda se las franqued la licencia poética; ya en la
invencion de los nombres de los sujetos que representan el drama,
y ya en el desenlace que resulta de él; que ni la tradicion lo ministra,
ni la equidad y justicia lo permiten; haciendo que un rey premie
extraordinariamente la infidencia de Ollanta y en nada recompense
la fidelidad heroica de Rumifiahui. Lo mas notable en ello es el

18 Cf. Bryce, op. cit., p. 461.

19 And, at one time, of Sicuani.

20 Cf. Pacheco Zegarra, op. cit., p. cxix.

21 Cf. Pacheco Zegarra, op. cit., p. cix.

22 The article was reprinted in an appendix to Pacheco Zegarra’s work.

Tschudi, who had not seen the article, attributes its authorship to José Palacios
(cf. op. cit., p. 190).
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 133

anacronismo que padece, haciendo inmediato sucesor del Inca Pa-
chacutic, en cuyo tiempo y al fin de su reinado supone el suceso de
Ollanta, 4 Tupac-Inca-Yupanqui, que fué nieto de aquél é hijo del
Inca Yupanqui, verdadero sucesor inmediato de Pachacutic.”

According to this tradition, which Palacios obtained from the
members of a certain native family, Rumifiahui entered the con-
vent of the elect virgins, and was therefor condemned to death. A
report of this incident soon reached Ollanta’s camp. Rumifiahui
explained his plot to the king, and was allowed to flee to Ollanta,
whom he betrayed. Palacios says at the end of the tradition:
“ Aqui fenece la tradicién sin expresar ni el premio que did el Inca
a Rumifiahui ni el castigo de Ollanta. . . La conteste narracién de
los historiadores del reino sobre la inviolable justificacion del go-
bierno de los Incas nos obliga 4 creer que el delito de Ollanta no
quedaria impune ni tampoco sin recompensa el heroismo de Rumifia-
hui.” It should be noted that in this article the authorship of
Ollanta is attributed to Dr. Valdés. After the latter’s death in
1816, his nephew and heir, D. Narciso Cuenta, produced a manu-
script copy of the play (in Valdés’ handwriting, according to
Tschudi?*), and declared that his uncle wrote it. So far as can be
learned, the truth of this statement by Cuenta was not denied till
many years later. It is said by those who uphold the antiquity of
Ollanta that Dr. Valdés never claimed to be its author.* This
may, or may not, be true; but, in any case, after the execution of
Tupac-Amaru and most of his friends, and after the strict prohibi-
tion of secular Quechua dramas, Valdés had good reason to remain
silent.

In 1853, in the chrestomathy of the second volume of his Die
Kechuasprache,> Tschudi published an edition of the text of
Olianta, but without a translation. Tschudi states that he received
a copy of the play from Rugendas, a painter from Munich who
had spent a year or two sketching in Peru.” Rugendas told him that

23 Op. cit, p. 192.

24D. Vicente Fidel Lépez, in les Races aryennes du Pérou (p. 325), says
that his father, a friend of Valdés, did not know that the latter was the author
of Ollan‘a; but he adds: “Toutefois je suis loin de prétendre que la forme
actuelle du drame soit antérieure 4 la conquéte.”

25 Cf. op. cit.
26 CE op. cit, p. IQI.
134 The Romanic Review

he had seen the manuscript in the monastery of Santo Domingo at
Cuzco, and had had it copied by a member of the order. The man-
uscript, he said, was in bad condition, and in part illegible?” In
this text the play was divided into three acts, but it was not divided
into scenes. In 1868 Barranca, a professor of natural sciences in
the university of San Marcos at Lima, published a Spanish version
of Ollanta, but without the Quechua text.28 This version, which is
in good idiomatic Spanish, seems to be a rather free translation of
Tschudi’s text. In an introduction, Barranca advances the theory
that Ollanta consists of ancient fragments put together by Valdés,
and he bases his belief in their antiquity on certain reasons of which
the following are the most important: that there is no mention of
Christianity, and a pagan society is pictured; it contains songs still
heard; the language is archaic (although there are very few obso-
lete words) ; the manuscripts differ; and there is a chorus. Eigh-
teen years after the appearance of Tschudi’s edition, Markham pub-
lished a text of Ollanta?® which he himself had transcribed from
a manuscript in the possession of D. Pablo Justiniani of Laris, Peru.
In the introduction, which is short and of a popular nature, Mark-
ham states that Justiniani (who claimed to be of Inca blood) as-
sured him that the drama was first reduced to writing by Dr. Val-
dés, and that the original manuscript was at that time in the posses-
sion of Valdés’ nephew and heir, D. Narciso Cuentas of Tinta; that
is (Justiniani’s) copy was made by his father, D. Justo Pastor
\Justiniani, from Valdés’ manuscript. Markham gives an English
version of Ollania and expresses his belief that the play is ancient.
This second text of Ollanta is of value, for it contains some lines
that had been omitted in Tschudi’s edition and also some variants;
but, unfortunately, it has many errors, probably made in copying\*?,
27 Middendorf (p. 114) relates that he visited the monastery of Santo
Domingo to examine the manuscript, but he was told by both the prior and the
librarian that they had never heard of the manuscript. The catalogue of the
library did not contain the title of Ollanta, and although Middendorf searched
the archives he failed to find a copy of the play.
28 Cf. op. cit.
229 Cf. op. cit.
CD Tech (op. cit., p. 205 f.) twits Markham with ignorance of: Quechua
and says his translation follows Barranca’s version. And Pacheco: Zegarra

(op. cit, p. cxviii) says: “ Aprés un examen attentif des travaux de Markham
sur le quechua, nous sommes arrivés 4 souscrire pleinement au jug:ment de
® 1
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 135

Markham gives the following reasons for believing Ollanta to be
ancient : that the language is archaic, and that “there is not a single
modern or Spanish word or phrase in the whole work. . . Ollanta
is absolutely free from any indication of a Spanish touch.”31 Dr.
José Fernandez Nodal published in 1873 or 1874 (no date is given)
his Elementos de la gramética quichua 6 idioma de los Yncas.
Volume V, entitled Prosodia, contains a text of Ollanta with a
translation into Spanish. This volume was later reprinted sepa-
rately with the title: Los vinculos de Ollanta y Cusi-kcuyllor. El
rigor de un padre y magnanimidad de un monarca. Drama en qui-
chua. Obra compilada y espurgada con la version castellana al
frente de su testo por el Dr. José Fernéndez Nodal, abogado de los
tribunales de justicia de la republica del Perv, Ayacucho (but appar-
ently printed in London in 1874). In the introduction, which is
very brief, Dr. Nodal says: “ Tal es el titulo de la mas grande com-
posicion de la literatura del quichua que se guarda en algunos ar-
chivos del Pert. Se le atribuye por autor al Dr. D. Antonio Valdez,
cura de Sicuani, que vivid por el tiempo de la insurreccion de Tupac
Amaro en 1781. Los que han querido recargar su mérito, con-
cediéndole la antiguédad de la época de los Yncas, pretenden haberse
representado a presencia de estos Ultimos monarcas en las festivida-
des solemnes.” Tschudi, in his second edition,?? says Nodal’s text
differs from all others, and was probably rewritten by Nodal him-
self. He expresses his belief, however, that Nodal had a thorough
knowledge of Quechua. But Pacheco Zegarra®*® sharply criticizes
Nodal’s bizarre text.

Tschudi published in 1875 and again in 1876 a second edition
of Ollanta,*4 with a translation into German. This text differs
considerably from that first published by Tschudi. The editor cor-
rected what he considered to be errors, he added or substituted
words or lines from Markham’s text and from that of a certain
Bolivian manuscript, he changed the form of words, and especially
Tschudi qui pense que la langue des Incas était pour cet auteur un terrain
étranger ott il ne pouvait que s’égarer.” These criticisms are scarcely fair, as
Markham was then just beginning his Peruvian studies.

C sy0p, cit., p. 10.

82 Op. cit., p. 208.

33 Op. cit., pp. cxv and cxxi.
84 Cf. opera cit.
136 The Romanic Review

e
the suffixes, to make them conform to the Quechua of the sixteenth
century,?> and he devised a new orthography to express better the
sounds of the Quechua language. In a long introduction Tschudi
expresses his belief in the antiquity of Ollanta and bases this belief
chiefly on the following reasons: that Garcilaso states that the an-
cient Peruvians had tragedies and comedieg;**\the drama is written
fully in the spirit of the Inca-Peruvians; there is no reference to
Christianity; Ollanta and his beloved do not meet alone in the play,\
and Ollanta is a sorry hero (he praises his own heroism and
is finally captured when drunk); in the rapid changes of time
and place the play, he says, differs from the old Spanish drama; the
language of the play is archaic and does not conform to the popular
speech of today (1875) or at the beginning of the nineteenth cen-
tury, and there are almost no Spanish words or idioms; and the
meter is not Spanish, as some lines are of irregular length and some
are incomplete, and the movement is regularly trochaic.

Tschudi also presents in this second edition an important piece
‘of evidence against the authorship of Valdés. In 1858 Herr Harm-
‘gen, a resident of Arequipa, Peru, gave Tschudi several books and
tnanuscripts in the Quechua language, among which was a manu-
script copy of Ollanta. This manuscript had seemingly been water-
soaked and was partly decayed, so that only 466 whole verses and
172 defective verses were legible. It bore a Spanish title, Ollanta, 6
la severidad de un padre y la clemencia de un rey. At the end of
the text were words in Spanish that Tschudi deciphered as follows:

Na Sra de la Paz
oi 18 de Junio de 1735
Miguel Ortiz

Now this date, if correctly deciphered, is approximately that of the
birth of Dr. Valdés, and if the copy was made at that time, Valdés,
of course, could not be the author. Middendorf®’ brushes this evi-

85 This is the most important change of all, and it is not mentioned in the
introduction. Apparently Tschudi was so convinced of the antiquity of Ollanta

that he considered the modern forms of his manuscript copy to be errors of a
copyist; or, as Middendorf (page 124) suggests, he was ignorant of modern

Qu a.
Ce (op. cit., p. 195) believes that Ollanta survived as it was pecu-
liarly~the love-poem of the Cuzco Indians, while hundreds of other {poems were
lost. {

87 Page 134.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 137

dence aside as of little value. He speaks of Tschudi’s “so-called
Bolivian manuscript,” and suggests that the correct reading is
probably 1785. In this second edition Tschudi gives, in parallel
columns, copies of his first text and of Markham’s text, together
with the variants found in the Bolivian manuscript. This makes
the work highly valuable to the student of Ollanta, although
Tschudi’s introductory matter and notes are disappointingly defi-
cient in critical scholarship. The next edition of Ollanta to appear
was that of Pacheco Zegarra,?® which was published at Paris in
Fai gail Galata the Geedhin text in a phonetic alphabet devised
by the editor together with a free translation into French, an intro-
duction and notes, and, in an appendix, a copy of the article in El
Museo erudito. The text of this edition is in the main that of
Tschudi, but with variants taken from Markham’s copy and also
from another manuscript copy formerly in the possession of Pacheco
Zegarra’s great-uncle D. Pedro Zegarra. The editor arbitrarilyV
divides the play into scenes and dialogues. Pacheco Zegarra holds
that Ollantai, and not Ollanta, is the correct form of the name, and
that the suffix -i denotes the inhabitant of a place, so that Ollantai
means an inhabitant of Ollanta.2® Middendorf* denies this and
states positively that there is no such locative suffix in Quechua.
Pacheco Zegarra was for years a resident of Cuzco, where Quechua
is still commonly spoken, and his phonetic alphabet, therefore, is of
value to the student of modern Quechua; but he seems not to have
been acquainted with the older Quechua, for when Tschudi changed
his text to conform to the language of the sixteenth century, Pacheco
Zegarra cried out that Tschudi was introducing new forms.
Pacheco Zegarra’s work is interesting by reason of the author’s
knowledge of modern Quechua and of the life and customs of the
present-day indigenous peoples of Peru. He also presents a mass
RACE. op. cit.

(0d p. cit, p. xxxiii. We have already spoken of the pre-historic ruins of
Tambo, or Ollanta-Tambo, twelve leagues from Cuzco, which some writers
assume to have been Ollanta’s place of refuge. Tschudi (of. cit., p. 187) says:
“T hold, therefore, that Ollanta was not the name of an individual but of a
ruling family, that this (family) had already built the palace and the fortress
(of Tambo) in pre-Inca times, and that the fortress was already in ruins
before the Inca dynasty was firmly established.” But Tschudi offers no satis-

factory evidence in favor of this assumption.
40 Page go.
138 The Romanic Review

of material bearing on the setting of Ollanta, some of which is
important. But his work, as a whole, is hasty and ill-digested and
reveals a lack of critical judgment. In his introduction he accepts
without reservation the more or less fanciful accounts of an ancient
Peruvian Utopia ;*! he accepts as authenticated the existence of a
well developed dramatic literature in old Peru (quoting Garcilaso
and Prescott), although “la peinture et la sculpture étaient encore »
tout-d-fait dans l’enfance parmi eux,”*? and states that “ Ollantai”’
is “‘l’unique monument qui nous reste du génie des Incas en matiére
de poésie,”** and again, “ Ollantai” is “tout ce qui reste de la litté-
rature de l’empire.”** In addition to the arguments that had already
been advanced in favor of the ancient origin of the play, Pacheco
Zegarra gives these: there is not an idea that is exclusively peculiar
to the literatures of modern Europe or to the Latin and Greek; the
chorus was not used in the old Spanish drama; the unities of time,
place and action are observed to a less degree than even in the
works of the romantic poets; the scenes shift oftener than would be
possible on the modern stage; the verse differs from Spanish in that
there are rimed couplets, there is occasionally a of every
line to the number of eight or more consecutive lined $5) ynalepha is
rare, and a line left unfinished by one speaker is never completed
by another; and the song, “O Tuya,” is still heard in Cuzco.

41 When the Spaniards reached Peru, the half-brothers Huascar and
Atahuallpa were engaged in a fierce fratricidal struggle, which ended with the
assassination of Huascar by the secret orders of his brother. And yet Pacheco
Zegarra, after relating this fact, blandly continues: “Les Incas étaient loin de
ressembler 4 ces fameux aventuriers qui de nos jours, sans autre mobile que la
soif du lucre, sans autres aspirations que celle de leur ambition démesurée,
montent a l’assaut du pouvoir supréme, aprés avoir épuisé dans des guerres
fratricides les richesses de leur patrie et versé 4 flots le sang de leur con-
citoyens” (op. cit, p. xxix). Tschudi (op. cit, p. 178) avers that human
sacrifice was common even under the Incas, and was finally suppressed by the
Spaniards. Cieza de Ledn (op. cit., 2a parte) speaks several times of human
sacrifice. Cf. Cap. XXVIII. Middendorf (page 19) believes, however, that it
did not form part of the worship of the sun. There seems little doubt that
the vaunted “civilization” of the ancient Peruvians has been greatly exag-
gerated by Garcilaso, by the early chroniclers who seem to have believed all
that the old grandmothers told them, and by most who have followed.

42 Op, cit., DP. XX.

43 Op. cit., p. XX.

44.Op, cit., p. xi.

45 The writer of this article has not found such laisses of assonated lines
in any of the texts.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 139

The most scholarly treatment of Ollanta by a Quechua scholar
which has thus far appeared is the work entitled Ollanta, ein Drama
der Keshuasprache. Ubersetzt und mit Anmerkungen versehen,
nebst einer Einleitung iiber die religidsen und staatlichen Einricht-
ungen der Inkas, von Dr. E. W. Middendorf. Leipzig, 1890.*
_This writer states in his preface that when he began his study of
the Quechua piay he assumed it to be ancient, but “at the first read-
ing of Ollanta doubts concerning the antiquity of the play occurred
to him, which with further investigation so increased that it was
no longer possible to doubt the modern origin of the drama... . in
its present form,” and he adds: “‘it is a modern work and was cer-
tainly composed a long time after the Spanish conquest of the
country.” Later in the work he says again: “ The play in its pres-
ent form, and in the language given in the manuscripts, does not
come from the time of the Incas, but was composed after the con-
quest of the country by the Spaniards.”4" Middendorf did what
no one had done before him in that he made a careful comparison
of the language of the Tschudi and Markham texts with the
Quechua of the sixteenth century as given in the works of Holguin
and others.4® He shows that the phonology of older Quechua differs
considerably from that of the modern language. Thus, in the six-
teenth century, the genitive suffix, after a single vowel, was -f,
while it is now -c (compare old yayap with modern yayac) ; the
accusative suffix after a vowel was -cta, which has become -ta (cf.
yayacta and yayata) ; the verbal ending of the first and second per-
, 46 Other works on the indigenous languages of Peru, by Dr. Middendorf,
are: Das Runa Simi oder die Keshua-Sprache, Leipzig, 1890; Wéorterbuch des
Runa Simi oder der Keshua-Sprache, Leipzig, 1890; Dramatische und lyrische
Dichtungen der Keshua-Sprache, Leipzig, 1890; Die Aimard-Sprache, Leipzig,
18901; Das Muchik oder die Chimu-Sprache, Leipzig, 1892.

47 Op. cit., p. 135.

48 Among the earlier grammars and lexicons of Quechua are: Grammédtica
6 Arte de la lengua general de los indios de los reynos del Pert, nuevamente
compuesta por el Maestro Fray Domingo de S. Thomas de la orden de S.
Domingo, Valladolid, 1560; Vocabulario de la lengua general de todo el Perk
Uamada lengua Qquichua, 6 Lengua del Inca, por Diego Gonadleaz Holguin de la
Compatiia de Jesus, Lima 1586; Grammédtica y Arte nueva (the rest of the title
as above), Lima, . 1607 3 Grammitica y Vocabulario en la lengua general del
Pert llmada Quikchua y en la lengua Espafola, por Diego de Torres Rubia,
Sevilla, 1603; Lima, 1619, 1700, 1754. Cf. Pacheco Zegarra, op. cit., p. clxv f.;
and Middendorf, Das Runa Simi oder di:-Keshua-Sprache, p. 29 f.
140 The Romanic Review

sons plural was -c, which has become -s (cf. canchic and canchis) ;
etc. He found that in the manuscripts of the seventeenth century
the modern forms begin to make their appearance, and there is hesi-
tancy between the two forms so that not seldom both occur on the
same page.*® Now, in the known manuscripts of Ollanta only the
modern forms occur: these manuscripts, therefore, are of later date
than the seventeenth century.°° Middendorf finds some archaic
words in the drama, but not more than one would expect in view of
the fact that it was reduced to writing a hundred years before his
day.®* Other important grounds on which Middendorf bases his
belief in the modern origin of Ollanta are: the ancient Quechua
verse did not have rime; the action of the play does not conform to
the laws and customs of the ancient Peruvians in that Ollanta, who
is “not of Inca blood” (v. 238), marries the Inca’s daughter, and
Yma Sumac enters and leaves the convent of the elect virgins at will;
Spanish words and translations of Spanish idioms are found in the
text, and there are references to things and customs that were in-
troduced by the Spaniards.®?

The Rev. J. H. Gybbon Spilsbury published in 1897, at Buenos
Aires, a work entitled El Quichua, gramdtica y crestomatia, seguido
de la traduccion de un manuscrito inédito del drama titulado Ollan-
tay. This sounds interesting; but the work has no introduction,
nor does the editor deign to state where he found the “ manuscrito
inédito” or where it now rests. He gives free translations of
Ollanta in English, French and Spanish, with the versions neatly
arranged in parallel columns. One can not discover in this work
the slightest trace of scholarship.

In Markham’s The Incas of Peru there is a free English trans-
lation, in verse, of Ollanta, with a short introduction, and a few

49 Op. cit., p. Ilo f.

“80 Markham apparently accepts this conclusion as final, as he grants that
the play was “ first reduced to writing in 1770 (The Incas of Peru, p. 323).
Tschudi, who seems to have known the older Quechua better than that
spoken in his day, in his second edition of the text of Ollanta has conscientiously
substituted old for new forms. Thus: v. 6: Yucac (1st ed.) > Incap (2d ed.);
v. 17: cuncaiquita (1st ed.) > cuncaikicta (2d ed.) ; v. 194: upyanchis (1st ed.)
> upiyanchik (2d ed.). In v. 194 Tschudi, by using the archaic form, makes the
line too long by one syllable.

52 These are treated more fully in the critical analysis of the play in the third
part of this article.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 141

pages on the subject in Chapte x.) An incomplete bibliography is
given in which Middendorf’s work does not appear. Markham re-
peats that Dr. Justiniani told him “that the Ollantay play was put
into writing by Dr. Don Antonio Valdez, the cura of Sicuani, from
the mouths of Indians.” He still maintains that Ollanta is an
ancient Inca drama, and his grounds for so believing are: that Gar-
cilaso, Molina and Salcamayhua mention the existence of ancient
Quechua plays; that “there is a clear proof that the memory of the
old dramatic lore was preserved, and that the dramas were handed
down by memory after the Spanish conquest. It is to be found in
the sentence pronounced on the rebels by the Judge Areche, in 1781.
It prohibited the representation of dramas as well as all other
festivals which the Indians celebrated in memory of their Incas.”53

The following translations of Ollanta have been published in
addition to those already mentioned: Ollanta. Drama quichua,
puesto en verso castellano por Constantino Carrasco, Lima, 1876.
This is a metrical version of Barranca’s translation. German trans-
lation of Ollanta, in verse, by A. Wickenburg, Vienna, 1876.
Ollanta. Drama quechua, traducido en romance, por B. Pacheco,
Cuzco, 1881. Spanish translation of Pacheco Zegarra’s French
version, in Biblioteca universal, Madrid, 1885.

II.

Since the versification of Ollanta has not been treated fully in
any of the editions, it is considered at some length in this article.
With the exception of two lyrics, Ollanta is composed in octosyl-
labic verses. There are occasional lines too long or too short by
one or more syllables: e. g..—10 syllables (138°*); 9 syllables
(38,2365°) ; 7 syllables (256) ; 6 syllables (9,5° 228°"). A curious
peculiarity of the versification of the play is that a line left incom-
plete by one speaker is not completed in the next speech: e. g..—
verses 263, 268. Of the eighteen incomplete lines in Tschudi’s first

53Tt will be recalled that this sentence was pronounced after the defeat of
“Tupac Amaru II” and shortly after the first recorded appearance of Ollanta.

54The line numbers are those of Tschudi’s first text. This line has 9
syllables in Markham’s text. :

55 Both have 8 in Markham’s text.

58 Nine in Markham’s text.
57 Eight in Markham’s text.
142 The Romanic Review

text, however, seven are completed in Markham’s text. Pacheco
Zegarra®® states that Quechua verses have regular trochaic move-
ment, and therefore verses must have an even number of syllables,
and a line of eight syllables is better adapted to the drama than lines
of six or ten syllables; but a study of accentuation in the verses of
Ollanta shows that the proportion of lines with regular alternation
of stressed and unstressed syllables is not much greater than in
ordinary Spanish romance-verse.®® The verses of Ollanta, therefore,
are not necessarily octosyllabic by reason of regular trochaic move-
ment, but would seem to be so because the author counted his syl-
lables.

With regard to rime, ,the octosyllabic lines are chiefly in redon-
dillas (a b b a), with occasional décimas,® quintillas,®1 rimed coup-
lets,°? and blank lines.

The following passages illustrate the commoner verse-forms ae

Redondillas:
Hufiu hufiu huaranccata
Anticunata Ilullaspa
Suyuicunata tocllaspa
pusamusacc pullccanccata,

Saccsa huamanpin ricunqui
Rimaita phuyuta hina ;
Chaipin sayarincca nina
Yahuarpin chaipi pufiunqui.. .
(Verses 534-541)
Quintilla:
Munacuscay Pitu-Salla
Haicac caman fiei pacanqui
Chai simita? Ricui Salla
Cai sonccoitan patmihuanqui
Caina hueqquehuan camalla .
(Verses 1195-1199)

58 Ob. cit., p. cxliii.

59 Thus, in the monologues of Ollanta (verses 519-554) and Rumijiahui
(verses 867-913), which are generally held to be the best parts of the play, of
83 lines, 44 can not be read with regular binary movement.

80 Cf, verses 152-181.

61 Cf, verses I19Q5-IIQ9.

62 Cf, verses 293-310.

63 The stress almost invariably falls on the penultimate syllable of a
Quechua word.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 143

Décima:
Chaichica cuyasccanmanchu
Chai qquellita cutichihuacc?
Mitcaspachu puririhuacc '
Urmahuacce hue pponccomanchu ?
Manan Ynca munanmanchu
Anchatan Ccoillurta cuyan™
Rimarinqui chairi cunan
Ttocyanccan phifiaricuspa
Ccantac ricui muspha muspha®
Auquimanta cahuac runan?

(Verses 172-181)
Rimed couplets :

Ay Mamallay, ay Nustallay
Ay huayllucusccai ccosallai
Ccanta ricsicunaipacha
Quillapi chai yana ppacha,
Ynitipas pacaricuspa
Ccospapurccan chiri uspha,
Phuyupas tacru ninahuan
Llaquita pailla huillahuan,
Ccoyllurpas chasca tucuspa
Chupata aisaricuspa
Tucuifiincu tapia carccan
Hinantinpas pisiparccan .. .
(Verses 293-304)

In the redondillas, décimas and quintillas, assonance occasionally re-
places consonantal rime.®* In one lyrical passage, verses 1259-
1297, there are several consecutive stanzas with the rime-scheme
abababcc. Usually the final syllables of the last line of one
speech do not rime with those of the first line of the following speech.
Consequently, in rapid dialogue the'rime is usually broken or may
disappear entirely,®” and even in long speeches the interposition of
64 Note assonance instead of consonantal rime.

65 Aspirated ph and th rime with p and ¢ respectively.
66 Thus, verses 894-897 :

Hinantimpin rumi fiitin

Hinantimpin ccacca pacan,

Ashuan acllasccacunatan

Chaipi, caipi cumpa sipin...
67 Cf. Act II, Scene 9.
144 The Romanic Review

a blank line is not rare. There are no series of alternate assonating
lines as in the Spanish romance-verse.

In the “ Boys’ Song” (verses 349-365), the lines are of 10
syllables, with regular ternary movement. Thus:

Ama Piscco micctiichu Tuyallai
Nustalldipa chacranta Tuydllai
Manan hina tuctichu Tuyallai
Hillorina saranta Tuyallai . . .%

This resembles the 10-syllable line that Iriarte used in Spain in the
eighteenth centry, and which, in the nineteenth century, was largely
used in the patriotic hymns of Spain and Spanish America.®® In
most of these lines in Ollanta, excluding the refrain, there is the
rime-scheme a ba b,c dcd,etc. The “Song of the Unknown”
(verses 599-638) is in adonics, with rime-scheme a bab,cdc d,
etc., throughout. Thus:

Urpi uyhuaita—chincachicini
Huc chhimlleillapi

Pacta ricihuac—tapucuipuini
Cai quitillapi .

After this lyric come nine lines by Ollanta which are probably also
sung. These are alternating lines of 5 and 8 syllables, with the
same rime-scheme as in the preceding verses.
“ In Ollanta, then, we find chiefly redondillas, décimas, and quin-
tillas, and these forms are so well defined that none can be acci-
‘dental. It is evident, therefore, that the versification of Ollanta
is, in the main, in imitation of Spanish prosodic arrangements. It
differs, however, from that of the Spanish secular drama in the
absence of romance-verse and in the employment of rimed couplets of
8-syllable lines, and it differs from Spanish prosody generally in that
there are numerous blank lines scattered among the redondillas,
quintillas, and décimas, that assonance sometimes replaces conso-

68In Tschudi’s text Tuyallat is given twice in every line; but it is given
only once in the texts of Markham, Pacheco Zegarra, and Middendorf.

/® Cf, Hills and Morley, Modern Spanish Lyrics, p. Ixxii,

zo It is interesting to note that there are no décimas in Ollanta after the

second scene of the first act. It is difficult to write décimas, and apparently the
author ceased trying to do so.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 145

nantal rime in these strophes, and that a broken line at the end of a
speech is usually not completed in the following speech.

In order to throw light on the versification of Ollanta, it is neces-
sary first to compare it with that of other dramatic works in the
Quechua language... . . Dr. E. W. Middendorf, in his Dramatische
und lyrische Dichtungen der Keshua-S prache (Leipzig, 1891), gives
texts of two religious dramas composed in the Quechua language,
El hijo prédigo and Usca Paucar. The full title of the first is
Auto sacramental del Hijo Prédigo, del insigne Poeta D. Juan de
Espinoza-Medrano, de los Monteros, Arcediano del Insigne Cabildo
de la Gran ciudad del Cugco. Middendorf states that this “is the
oldest of the Quechua dramatic poems still extant.”7* The author,
a native of Cuzco, was professor of theology and belles-lettres in the
Seminary of San Antonio and dean of the cathedral of Cuzco. He
was also called Dr. Lunarejo, on account of a large birthmark. He
wrote several works in Spanish, including the A pologético en favor
de D. Luis de Géngora, dedicated to the Duque de Olivares (1587-
1645)."% El hijo prédigo seems, therefore, to have been written in
the fifth decade of the seventeenth century, and both the language
and hand-writing point to that period. Middendorf copied the
manuscript formerly owned by Dr. Mariano Macedo, but now in
the possession of the Museum fiir Vélkerkunde in Berlin. El hijo
proédigo is one of many religious dramas composed in the indige-
nous languages of America to teach scriptural lessons to the Indians.

“The characters are chiefly allegorical, and there is more poetic

imagery and a greater wealth of poetic diction than in Ollanta or

sca Paucar. But the gracioso, Body, indulges occasionally in
coarse jests.

71In the Preface, Middendorf says that there is another dramatic poem
that he has not seen, La muerte de Atahuallpa, which is a translation or adapta-
tion of an uninteresting Spanish tragedy in five acts. Markham has also a MS.
copy of a play by Juan de Espinosa Medrano, entitled El pobre mds rico. The
MS. was given him by Julian Ochoa, then rector of the University of Cuzco,
in April, 1853. Markham kindly copied and sent a page of the play to the writer
of this article. At the head of the page he writes: “Written by Dr. Lunarejo, a
Quichua scholar of the 18th century,” but he is mistaken as to the date (see
below). The lines he sent aré octosyllabic, with irregular rime.

72 Introduction, page 3.

78 Middendorf says that this work appeared at Cuzco in 1662. An edition
was published in Lima in 1694.
146 The Romanic Review

The following is a synopsis of the play:

Act I. A younger son, Christian, demands his share of the
paternal estate, and leaves his Father and his home in order to see
the world and know good and evil. He sets out accompanied by
Body and Youth. They are tempted by World and his servants,
Whirlwind and Foam, who bring them‘to Dame Flesh and her
handmaidens, Miss Venal and Miss Rainbow. Christian and Body
fall in love with Dame Flesh: the latter’s love is physical, while
Christian’s is spiritual. Lads and maidens dance and sing. God’s
Word, an emissary from the Father, strives to save Christian, but is
repulsed.

Act II. They gamble to the accompaniment of song. Chris-
tian loses all, even to Fear of God and Health, and Youth deserts
him. All turn against him and Body, and drive them away in
nakedness and poverty. God’s Word comes again and pleads with
Christian to return to his Father. A swine-herd demands food and
pay of Fire-Tooth (the Devil), and refuses longer to drive his
swine. He is cast out, and the starving Christian takes his place.

Act III. Enter Body who has been tossed in a blanket and
otherwise ill treated by the retainers of Dame Flesh. In their
hunger, Christian and Body eat clay. Again God’s word urges
Christian to return to his Father, and again Body resists. At last,
Christian, with the aid of God’s Word, binds Body on a cross, and
all return to the father, who receives Christian with rejoicing and
orders that the fatted swine (!) be killed.

The language of the play is characterized by a considerable
number of words that are now obsolete in the spoken language
(the proportion of obsolete words is larger than in Ollanta or Usca
Paucar), and the orthography hesitates between the phonology of
old Quechua and that of a later period. It has less than a half
dozen words of Spanish origin (cf. mesa, pintar, sollozar (?), vino),
if we except religious terms (cf. dnuima, Cristiano, Cristo, Dios,
gracia, Jesus, Jueves Santo). These words, perhaps a dozen in
number, could scarcely be avoided in a religious drama written by
a Roman Catholic priest.

The play is in 8-syllable lines, as a rule, but occasional lines are
too long or too short by one or more syllables: e. g..—9 syllables
(20,4 250, 257) ; 10 syllables (346) ; 7 syllables (409) ; 6 syllables
(167, 168, 241); 5 syllables (263, 214). Occasional broken lines
occur at the beginning (106, 214), in the middle (53, 62), and at

74 The number is that of the line in Middendorf’s edition.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 147

the end (29, 123, 154) of a speech. Such lines at the end of a
speech are usually not completed in the following speech, but in a
‘few cases they are so completed (78 f., 233 f.) There are more
lines of irregular length and more broken lines than in the later
dramas, Usca Paucar and Ollanta. There are some small groups
of 6-syllable lines (663-666, 960-962). The alternation of
stressed and unstressed syllables is generally no more regular than in
Spanish octosyllabic verse. In the song, verses 500-515, the lines
are of 5 or 6 syllables + 5 or 6 syllables, with six pies quebrados of
5 or 6 syllables each, and the rhythmic movement is ternary, so that
the verse closely resembles the Old Spanish arte mayor."® The rime
throughout is assonance in alternate lines, but with not infrequent
interposition of two or more blank lines, especially at the beginning
of a scene and in rapid dialogue. In the song, verses 500-515,
every line is assonated (a4-a). Assonance occurs as follows: 4-a,
753 lines; 4-i, 404; i-i, 72; a-u, 9; l-a, 8; a-a (every line), 16;
none, or rare, 194;—total, 1456.

The second play in Middendorf’s work is Usca Paucar, which
is dedicated to our lady of Copacabana. The church of Copacabana
stands on the rocky peninsula of the same name on the south side
of Lake Titicaca. Before the advent of the Christians, Copaca-
bana was a sanctuary, and the early missionaries built a Christian
chapel there, as was their custom, for they endeavored to turn to
account local ‘traditions and religious usages whenever possible.
The chapel was taken over by the Augustinians, who brought to it
from Spain an old painting of the Virgin Mary, and the religious
drama, Usca Paucar, is avowedly an exhortation to worship the
Virgin. The author of the play is unknown. Middendorf’s text
is a copy of a manuscript in the possession of Dr. Leonardo Villar
of Lima. Markham has also a manuscript copy,” and it is said that
there are several copies extant in Cuzco.

The language and the versification indicate that the play is of

75 Cf. Hills and Morley’s Modern Spanish Lyrics, p. \xxv f.

78 Markham’s copy was given him by the Sub-Prefect of Paucartambo, in
June, 1853. The first twelve lines, of which the writer of this article has a copy,
differ considerably from the first lines of Middendorf’s edition. Of the first
eight lines in Markham’s text, only four are found in Middendorf’s; while two

in Middendorf’s text are lacking in Markham’s. The rime-scheme of these lines
is more regular in Markham’s text.
148 The Romanic Review

more recent origin than El hijo prédigo, and that it and Ollanta

were probably composed at about the same time,—that is, toward

the middle of the eighteenth century. The play is poorly con-

structed and has little poetical merit. At the beginning it seems

reminiscent of the Faust legend, but later on all resemblance disap-

pears. As in Ollania, the lovers do not meet alone on the stage.
The following is a synopsis of the play:

Act I. Usca (‘Beggar’) Paucar, of Inca blood but in poverty,
bewails his fate. Quespillo (the gracioso) tries to cheer him but in
vain. Yuncanina (Lucifer: in a green costume, over which he
wears a black cloak, star-spangled’’) and four attendant spirits
speak of their fall from heaven, and make plans to ensnare men.
Their one fear is that mankind may be rescued by the Virgin Mary.

Act II. Usca Paucar and Quespillo, hungry and weary, lie
down to sleep. The former is awakened by Yuncanina, who offers
wealth and happiness if he will obey him and abjure allegiance to
the Virgin Mary, throw away his rosary and never-more hear mass.
The wretched Usca Paucar signs with his blood a written promise.
At Usca Paucar’s bidding, Quespillo smites a rock and much gold
falls to the ground. An aged man, Choqque Apu, urges his daugh-
ter, Ccoritica, to take a husband, but she holds men in scorn (a
Yarahui is sung). Choqque Apu receives Usca Paucar cordially
but Ccoritica repulses him. Usca Paucar bewails his lot, but Yun-
canina enters and promises him success in love (Song).

Act III. Yuncanina makes Ccoritica to fall in love with Usca
Paucar, whom he presents, as his brother, to Choqque Apu, and
for whom he asks and obtains Ccoritica’s hand (Dove song). When
they are happily married, Yuncaina and the four spirits plan to
separate them lest Ccoritica lead her husband to worship the Virgin
Mary. Quespillo overhears them, and as they do not know that
men are near, they appear as devils and are recognized as such by
Quespillo, who tells Usca Paucar what he has seen and heard.
They flee. Ccoritica and maidens appear, and they also flee. The
devils pursue (there is much horse-play here). When the devils
overtake first the men and then the women, both groups escape by
calling on Jesus and the Virgin Mary. A procession of children
passes by. With them walks an angel who bears aloft a banner with
an image of the Virgin Mary. Usca Paucar and Quespillo fall on
their knees before the image and pray for help. Ccoritica, with a
cross in her hand, joins her husband. Yuncanina, in fury, casts
the writing at Usca Paucar’s feet and departs. The angel steps
forward and urges all to worship the Virgin Mary.

Vi For illustrations of the devil in a black star-spangled cloak, see Cole’s
edition of the Mexican play, Los pastores.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 149

There are in Usca Paucar few words of Spanish origin (cf.
asno; misi, ‘ cat’), except such sacerdotal terms as Addn, casar, cruz,
Dios, Jesis, Maria, misa, rezar, rosario, Virgen.

Like El hijo prédigo and Ollanta, Usca Paucar is in 8-syllable
lines as a rule, with occasional lines too long or too short by one or
more syllables: e. g..—9 syllables (159,78 262, 280); 10 syllables
(233); 7 syllables (236) ; 6 syllables (180, 181). The lyrical pas-
sage, verses 1534-1557, and verses 1627-1641, have alternating 8-
and 5-syllable lines; and the lyrical monologue, verses 1366-1393,
has regular 6-syllable lines. There are occasional broken lines at
the beginning (776, 918) and at the end (29, 110, 701) of speeches.
The latter are usually not completed in the following speech, but in
a few cases are so completed (182 f., 1400 f.). There are fewer
irregular lines and fewer broken lines than in El hijo prédigo, but
about as many as in Ollanta.

As in Ollanta, the rime is regularly that of the Spanish re-
dondilla (a b b a), with occasional rimed couplets (19-36, 1339-
1365), quintillas (359-363, 450-454) and décimas (98-107, 777—
786). In some redondillas, quintillas and décimas assonance re-
places consonantal rime wholly or in part. Two or three consecu-
tive blank lines (139-140) occur occasionally. In the lyrical pas-
sage with alternating lines of 8- and 5-syllables (1534-1557), there
is no rime, and in the lyrical passage with 6-syllable lines (1366-
1393), the rime is regularly abab, cdcd, etc. Assonance recurring
regularly in alternate lines is not found, unless it be in verses 1717-
1722. Asa whole, the verses of Usca Paucar are remarkably sim-
ilar to those of Ollanta.

It is interesting to compare the versification of these Quechua
dramas with that of an old Easter play in the Spanish language
found in New Mexico and Texas, and published by M. R. Cole
under the title Los Pastores (Boston, 1907). Two versions are
given which are similar in general outline but differ greatly in detail.
One was secured at Rio Grande City, Texas, in 1891, by Captain
John G. Bourke from an old cobbler. The other version is.a copy,
made by Miss Honora De Busk, of an old manuscript that she found
in the possession of an aged Mexican at San Rafael, New Mexico,
about twelve years ago. Most of the text was arranged as prose,

78 The number is that of the line in Middendorf’s edition.
150 The Romanic Review

and was put back into metrical form by Mr. Cole. In spite of ill
treatment by copyists, the versification of the New-Mexican version
is better preserved than that of the Texas version, and I have there-
fore selected the former for comparison with the Quechua texts.

The New-Mexican play is in 8-syllable lines, as a rule, but with
many lines irregular in length. There are a considerable number
of broken lines. Those occurring at the end of one speech are some-
times not completed in the following speech (212,"° 225). There
are some groups of 6-syllable lines, and one song (212) is written
in lines of 7 + 5 syllables with ternary movement.® The rime
used in the play is chiefly assonance in alternate lines, with occa-
sional rimed couplets, redondillas, quintillas and décimas. In the
laisses of assonated lines, two or more consecutive blank lines occur
not infrequently, as in El hijo prédigo. In some redondillas and
quintillas, assonance replaces consonantal rime wholly or in part,*?
as in Ollanta and Usca Paucar. As in Usca Paucar, and to a less
degree in Ollanta, series of rimed couplets occur. Thus, on pages
228 and 229, there are 53 rimed couplets (106 lines).

The defective versification of the plays we have examined may
be due to one or more of several causes. The texts may have been
altered by copyists. In some of the rapid dialogues, at least, it
seems probable that during rehearsals words and phrases were freely
added or cut out, and if this be so, it explains in part the difference
in texts. The authors may have had little skill in writing verses.
Parts of the plays almost certainly give evidence of crude work-
manship, and this is not surprising since few Spanish priests in the
colonies were true poets, and yet many undertook to compose or
adapt autos sacramentales in both the Spanish and the Indian lan-

79 The numbers are those of the pages in Cole’s edition. The writer of this
article has also in his possession a manuscript copy of the copy made by Miss
De Busk.

80 Note similar songs in El hijo prédigo and Ollanta.

81Ella (alla ?) me voy a bestir,
y a seguir la luz que veo,
porque ciertamente creo
qtte esta noche es de festin (page 222).

No sabemos en certesa

en que tiempo, ni en que dia,

se cumplen las profecias

de aquellos grandes profectas (page 218).
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta I51

guages.62 The result may have been effective in teaching the Chris-
tian doctrine to natives, but it had little poetic value.

In the older Spanish autos sacramentales the commonest
strophic arrangement was the quintilla, which yielded little by little
to the romance-verse, the redondilla, and lastly the décima, until it
came to hold third place (cf. Calderon’s autos). In the colonial
autos of the seventeenth and eighteenth century that we possess,
the quintilla has third place in point of numbers as in Spain during
the same period, and this is also true of the three Quechua plays

-that we have examined. The auto sacramental, as the name im-
plies, is in one act, and the Mexican Los pastores is thus arranged.
But, curiously, both El hijo prédigo and Usca Paucar are divided
into three acts. In both plays the division into acts seems forced, as
it does not conform to a logical division into parts. It seems prob-
able that these plays were divided into acts by analogy with the
secular drama, either by the authors or by copyists. In length they
exceed the old Spanish autos; but they do not exceed those of Lope
and Calderon, nor the Mexican Los pastores. Now in the number
of lines, in the illogical division into acts,®* and in the versification,
Ollanta closely resembles the religious dramas, El hijo prédigo and
Usca Paucar. Moreover, in the number of lines, in the versification,
and in the general lack of poetic worth, the three resemble the
, Mexican Los pastores. All seem to be the product of the crude
" workmanship of Spanish missionaries or their disciples. And, al-
though Ollanta is presumably a secular play, it also teaches an im-

‘portant element of the Christian doctrine: ‘‘ Love your enemies.”

Let us return to those peculiarities of the versification of Ollanta
and Usca Paucar that are not common to the Spanish drama. The
absence of romance-verse is unimportant. In some secular plays
the romance-verse plays a minor part,8* and in the older autos sa-

82In the Texas version of Los pastores, Mr. Cole found passages taken
bodily from older Spanish autos; but, on the other hand, words of Mexican
origin are not infrequent (cf. tamales, as a rime-word, in a redondilla in the
New-Mexican version).

83 Although in Pacheco Zegarra’s edition of Ollania there is no division into
acts, both the Pedro Zegarra text (cf. page cxxiv of Pacheco Zegarra’s edition)
and the Tschudi text are so divided, as well as the Markham text. Pacheco
Zegarra omitted the division into acts, gave consecutive numbers to scenes

throughout, and furthermore made subdivisions that he entitled “ dialogues.”
84In the dramas of Tirso de Molina only about one-fourth of the lines are
152 The Romanic Review

cramentales it was not used at all. There are fewer rimed couplets
of octosyllabic lines in Ollanta and Usca Paucar than in Los pas-
tores. In fact many of the rimed couplets in these plays may well
be fragments of redondillas, quintillas, or décimas, and some evi-
dently are so. Rimed couplets, however, were used in Spain in‘
religious compositions. In the Arte poética espaiola, by Juan Diaz
Rengifo (edition of 1724), Cap. XXII, page 29, the author says:
“Esta poesia de versos Pareados, 6 Parejas, en verso de Redon-
dilla mayor, tiene su consonancia de dos en dos versos.” He cites
the following lines from Ledesma, Conceptos Espirituales é las lagri-
mas que Christo N. Seftor vertié en la Cruz, segunda parte:

Las lagrimas de muger
Por mil cosas pueden ser:
Mas lagrimas de varon

O son zelos, 0 aficion.

And in both religious and secular dramas rimed couplets in mingled
verses of 11 and 7 syllables were not rare.8° The blank lines
scattered among the redondillas, quintillas, and décimas, often seem
to be fragments also of broken strophes. Thus, in Ollanta, in
verses 1398-1430, there is a series of nine redondillas three of which
lack one line each. And, in verses 112-245, there are at least nine
décimas three of which also lack one line each. These missing lines
may cause the appearance of stray blank lines and rimed couplets.
The use of assonance in the rimed strophes instead of consonantal
rime is indefensible and points to lack of skill in writing verses;
but we have seen that this also occurs in Los pastores. The occur-
rence of broken lines in all the plays we have examined may indi-
cate corruption of the texts, or, possibly, they may be in imitation
of the 4-syllable line not seldom interposed among 8-syllable lines in
the older religious dramatic compositions.*®

The three Quechua plays that we have examined are written in
Spanish verse-forms. What, then, was the prosody,—if there was
in romance-verse, and the rest are in redondillas, quintillas, etc. Cf. S. G.
Morley, El uso de las combinaciones métricas en las comedias de Tirso de Molina,
Bulletin hispanique, XVI, p. 177 f.

85 Cf. Calderon, La primer flor del Carmelo, Sc. 12 £.; No hay burlas con el

amor, II, 12f.; Moreto, La gran casa de Austria y divina Margarita, Sc. 1.
86 Cf. Autos sacramentales (in Biblioteca de autores espanoles), pp. 126,

133, 143.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 153

_such,—of the ancient indigenous poetry of Peru? Garcilaso says :87

tg

. . supieron hazer versos cortos, y largos con medida de
silabas: En ellos ponian sus cantares amorosos con tonadas dife-
rentes, como se ha dicho. Tambien componian en verso las hazafias
de sus Reyes, y de otros famosos Incas, y Curacas principales, y los
ensefiauan a sus descendientes por tradicion, para que se acordassen
de los buenos hechos de sus passados, y los imitassen; los versos
eran pocos porque la memoria los guardasse, empero muy compen-
diosos como cifras. No vsaron de consonante en los versos, todos
eran sueltos. Por la mayor parte semejauan a la natural compos-
tura Espafiola, que llaman redondillas.”

And he quotes from memory this song:

Caylla lapi Al cantico
Pufiunqui Dormiras ;
Chaupituta Media noche
Samusac Yo vendré.

In the same chapter, he adds:

“En los papeles del padre Blas Valera hallé otros versos, que el
llama spondaicos, todos son de a quatro silabas . . . Escriuelos en
Yndio y en latin. . . Dizen que vn Inca poeta, y astrologo hizo, y
dixo los versos . . . La fabula, y los versos dize el Padre Blas
Valera, que hallé en los fiudos y cuentas de vnos anales antiguos,
que estauan en hilos de diuersas colores, y que la tradicion de los
versos, y de la fabula se la dixeron los Yndios contadores, que te-
nian cargo de los fiudos y cuentas historiales, y que admirado de que
los Amautas huuiessen alcancado tanto, escriuid los versos, y los
tom6é de memoria para dar cuenta dellos.”

Pulchra Nimpha
Frater tuus
Vrnam tuam

“ Sumac Nusta
Torallayquim
Puyfiuy quita

Hermosa donzella «_,
Aquese tu hermand®®)
El tu cantarillo

Paquir cayan
Hina mantara
Cunufiunun
Yila pantac
Camri Nusta
vnuy quita
Para munqui
May fiimpiri
Chichi munqui

87 Op. cit., II, 27.

Nunc infringit
Cuius ictus
Tonat fulget
Fulminatque
Sed tu Ninpha
Tuam limpham
Fundens pluis
Interdumque
Grandinem, seu

Lo esta quebrantando,
Y de aquesta causa
Truena y relampaguea
Tambien cayen rayos.
Tu real donzella

Tus muy lindas aguas
Nos dards llouiendo
Tambien a las vezes
Granizar nos has
154 The Romanic Review

Riti munqui Niuem mittis Neuaras assi mesmo.
Pacha rurac Mundi factor EI hazedor del mundo
Pacha camac Pacha camac, E] Dios que le anima
Vira cocha Vira cocha El Gran Vira cocha
Cay hinapac Ad hoc munus Para aqueste oficio
Churasunqui Te sufficit Ya te colocaron
Camasunqui.®? Ac praefecit, Y te dieron alma.”

Now, it will be observed that these verses bear no resemblance
whatever to the Spanish redondilla in the modern meaning of the
word. They have no rime except the occasional repetition of a
suffix. Garcilaso’s statement that the old Quechua verses did not
have rime, and that they resembled the Spanish redondilla, seems,
therefore, a contradiction in terms; but an examination of old
works on Spanish prosody throws light on the problem. Ren-
gifo®® uses the term verso de redondilla to denote any line of 8 or
fewer syllables. Thus:

“El verso de Redondilla mayor se compone de ocho sylabas”
(page 15); “versos Pareados, 6 Parejas, en verso de Redondilla
mayor” (page 29); “‘tercetos con verso de Redondilla mayor”
(page 30); “De la Copla Redondilla, 6 Quintilla, . .. se llama
Redondilla, porque se canta en los corros donde baylan . . . Com-
pOonense de cinco versos” (page 32) ; “La Redondilla de seys versos
que podran llamarse Sextillas del nimero de los versos (como la
Quarteta y Quintilla ) ” (page 33); “No hay cosa mas facil, que
hazer un Romance, ni cosa mas dificultosa, si ha de ser qual con-
viene. Lo que causa la facilidad es la composicion del Metro, que
todo es de una Redondilla multiplicada”’ (page 59) ; ‘‘ Todos estos
generos de Redondillas, ora Simples, ora Dobladas, 6 Mistas, ora
Dezimas, son muy a proposito para dezir en ellas agudos conceptos,
y para componer Comedias, Loas, y Dialogos” (page 39).

And Sarmiento®! says of redondillos:

88 Garcilaso says that he made the Spanish translation directly from the
Quechua.

89 According to Middendorf (Ollanta Drama, p. 57 f.), all the lines should
be written as one word, except the rst, 8th, 14th, 15th and 17th. He also
corrects ‘hinamantara’ to ‘hinamantas.’

90 Cf. op. cit.

°1 Obras posthumas del Rmo P. M. Fr. Martin Sarmiento Benedictino,
Memorias para la historia de la poesia y poetas espaioles, tomo I, Madrid, 1775
(but apparently written about 1745).
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 155

“Procuraré decir algo de las quatro principales diferencias de
metros, que son Redondillos, Franceses 6 Alexandrinos, de Arte
mayor, y Hendecasylabos 6 de Sonetos” (§ 395); “En esta Octava
significa Redondillo todo genero de verso, 6 pie, que no tiene mas
de ocho sylabas; y asi el verso communisimo de ocho sylabas es Re-
dondillo mayor, y menor el de seis” (§ 396) ; “ Los Redondillos, asi
mayores como menores, son la basa de todos los metros castellanos

. . con particularidad el de ocho sylabas es el mas famoso, mas
antiguo, mas natural, y mas comun” (§ 398); “Parece claro...
que no hay redondillo, sea de ocho sylabas, de siete, de seis, de cinco,
6 de quatro. . . que no tenga su origen visible en nuestros Refranes

Castellanos” (§ 415).
Note that Sarmiento generally uses verso redondillo instead

of verso de redondilla.

It is clear that in the time of Garcilaso the term verso de redon-
dilla merely meant any line of 8 or fewer syllables. The quatrain
that is now known as redondilla Rengifo calls “ quarteta.”’ When,
therefore, Garcilaso speaks of rimeless verses that resemble the
Spanish redondilla, he means short verses as distinguished from
those used in the old Alexandrine, the Arte mayor, and the Italian
hendecasyllable.

In 1908 Dr. Richard Pietschmann, librarian of the University of
G6ttingen, discovered in the Royal Library of Copenhagen a man-
uscript copy of an old Peruvian chronicle entitled El primer nueva
coronica y buen gobierno, por Felipe Huaman Poma de Ayala,
which apparently dates from 1613. The author, according to his
own statement, was a descendant of the Incas. The work has valu-
able pen and ink drawings, and in this respect it is unique. It is
written in incorrect Spanish intermixed with Quechua words. Dr.
Pietschmann is preparing this work for publication, and in the
meantime he has published two articles on the subject : Nueva Coro-
nica 'y Buen Gobierno des Don Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, eine
peruanische Bilderhandschrift (in Nachrichten von der Kéniglichen
Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Gottingen, Philologisch-histor-
ische Klasse, Heft 6, Berlin, 1908), and (in English) Some Ac-
count of the Illustrated Chronicle by the Peruvian Indian, D;
Felipe Huaman Poma de Ayala (in Proceedings of the XVIII. In-
ternational Congress of Americanists, page 510 f.).

In these articles Dr. Pietschmann gives nine lyrics in the Quechua
156 The Romanic Review

language that he found in the chronicle. He has arranged them in
verse-lines, but “in the original the songs are written without sepa-
ration of words or division into lines.”®* As arranged by Dr.
Pietschmann, the lines are irregular in length, except in two of the
lyrics: in one of these there are two lines of 12 syllables followed
by a cry or call; in the other there are alternate lines of 7 and g
syllables.°* In nearly all the lyrics regular alternation of stressed
and unstressed syllables is much more marked than in Ollanta. The
age of these lyrics is not known. Two contain Spanish words:
Dios, ciio (=sefior), rosa. Dr. Pietschmann considers that the
two following show little or no Spanish influence:

yaya condor apauay

tura guaman pusauay

mamallayman uillapuuay

nam pisca punchau

mana micosca

mana upyasca

yaya cachapuric

quilcaapac chasquipuric

cimillayta soncollayta apapullauay

yayallayman mamallayman uillapullauay.™

And:

Aucap umanuan upyason,
quironta ualcarisun,
tullunuan pincullusun,

82 Quoted from a letter by Dr. Pietschmann to the writer of this article.
In this letter Dr. Pietschmann kindly gave the remaining lines of the song
entitled haray haraui.
®8mana tarushca richo
maquillayquip uaucuycaconqui
mana luycho amicho
cincallayquip uaucuycaconqui
ua yayay turilla
ua yayay turilla.
84“ Father Condor, take me away; Brother Falcon, bring me away } announce
me to my dear mother. For five days already I have not eaten nor drunk a
drop. Father Bringer-of-News, Bearer-of-a-Message-stick, Courier, please take
away my mouth, my heart. Please announce me to my dear father and my dear
mother.” These are supposed to be the words of a woman caught in adultery,
and bound by her hair to a lofty crag where she is left to die.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 157

caranpi tinyacusun,
taquecusun.®®

In several of the lyrics, as the lines have been arranged by Dr.
Pietschmann, there is rime due to repetition of words or suffixes;
but the rime is incidental. There is nowhere any definite rime-
scheme®* corresponding to the Spanish quintilla, redondilla, rimed
couplets, romance-verse, etc.

Dr. Rodolfo Lenz,®* professor in the Instituto Pedagdjico de
/Santiago.de Chile, in a recent letter to the writer of this article,
says: “Rimed verses with regular syllable counting can not be
Indian. Real aboriginal poetry of America has quite a different
character. A certain rhythm may exist.” He adds: “ There is not
the least doubt for me that all the Quechua poetry gathered and
published up to date is spurious, made by criollos according to
Spanish models. I have not yet seen one line of Quechua that is
pure Indian literature. The only book in which there are perhaps
some pieces of Quechua literature that have undergone only little
Spanish influence is Tarmapap Pacha-Huaraynin. Azucenas Que-
chuas. Por unos Parias. Tarma, 1905.98 There are some prose
fables in it that, except the moraleja, seem to be of Indian origin.
On page 92 there is a cancién de despedida that runs as follows:

Uchucachi manatsh cananka rikashaichu!
Uchucachi manatsh cananka malishiaychu!
Uchucachi manatsh micuinita mishquichinquichu!

95 “ The traitor’s skull, we shall drink out of it; his teeth we shall wear as a
necklace; from his bones we shall make flutes to play on; on his skin we shall
beat the drum; we shall perform our dance.” This ferocious song is evidently
a threat to traitors.

26 Except perhaps in the lyric given in a preceding footnote. This probably
shows Spanish influence.

97 Author of Chilenische Studien, Marburg, 1892-1893; Cantos araucanos en
Moluche i Pehuenche chileno con Introduccién sobre la poesia araucana, in
Anales de la Universidad de Chile, tomo XCVII, Santiago de Chile, 1897; Dicci-
onario etimoldjico de las voces chilenas derivadas de lenguas indijenas ameri-
canas, Santiago de Chile, 1905-1910; e¢ al.

98 There is a copy of this work in the library of The Hispanic Society, New
York City.
158 The Romanic Review

Uchucachi mircapatchi yarparacushunqui!
Uchucachi, ayhuala! ayhualarac!!*°

There is only a rime caused by two equal verbal forms, and no
regular number of syllables.”

In his Dramatische und lyrische Dichtungen der Keshua-S prache,
Middendorf gives three collections of lyrics in the Quechua lan-
guage. The first consists of Romances de la pasion de Nuestro
Senor Jesu Cristo, which he found in an old volume entitled Direc-
torio espiritual en la lengua Espaiiola y quichua, general del Inca,
compuesto por el Padre Pablo de Prado, Lima, 1660. These
Christian “romances” are nine in number. Seven are in octosyl-
labic verses : five with assonance in alternate lines, one in redondillas,
and one in crude assonating redondillas. One “romance” is in
5-syllable lines, arranged in quatrains. In 33 quatrains, out of 63,
two lines have consonantal rime, due chiefly to the repetition of
verbal suffixes. Curiously, every quatrain ends in -i. And one
“vomance”’ is in stanzas of six lines of 6 syllables and one line of 9
syllables, with traces of crude assonance. In most of these “ro-
mances,” there are many lines irregular in length.

The second collection consists of sacred songs, some of which
Middendorf collected here and there in his travels, and some he
found in a volume entitled Antologia sagrada en Espaftol, Quichua
y Aimar, por el cura C. F. B., Oruro, 1889. The Quechua songs
are in the present-day speech of Upper Peru, though some may be
old. They are eleven in number. Eight are in octosyllabic verses:
five in quatrains with consonantal rime of the second and fourth
lines, one in redondillas, one in stanzas of six lines with the rime-
scheme—a—a bb, and one in quatrains with rime of the second and
fourth lines or with all lines blank. Two songs are in 6-syllable
lines, in quatrains, and, as a rule, with consonantal rime of the
second and fourth lines,?°° and one is in alternating lines of 6 and

®9 Uchucachi (name of a dog), ya no volveré 4 verte!

Uchucachi, ya no te probaré!

Uchucachi, no condimentards mi comida!

Uchucachi, te extrafiara mi fiambre!

Uchucachi, adidés, adids para siempre ! !
(Translation of the author.)

100 The eleventh song illustrates a peculiarity of Spanish-Quechua prosody
that is often to be observed. Thus, consonantal rime sometimes appears in such
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 159

5 syllables, mostly blank. Most of the lyrics in these two collec-
tions are good examples of “idioma indigena y arte poético eu-
ropeo.”?°1 They contain almost no words of Spanish origin, ex-
cept some sacerdotal terms, but the versification shows Spanish
influence.

The third collection of lyrics in the volume consists, according to
Middendorf’s classification, of yarahuis,°? longer poems, and
elegies. The lyrics in this collection are fifty-two in number. Of
these, thirty-six have no rime;'°? nine have irregular or occasional
rime, three are arranged in quatrains with consonantal rime of the
second and fourth lines, two have complicated rime-schemes,!°*
one has assonance in alternate lines, and one has assonated redon-
dillas. ‘Twenty lyrics are in 8-syllable lines, one has alternate lines
of 8 or 9 and 5 syllables (with ternary movement), one has two
lines of 8 to 10 syllables followed by one of 5 syllables, six have
6-syllable lines, one has lines of 5 or 6 syllables, ten have 5-syllable
lines (with ternary movement), one has alternating 5- and 3-sylla-
ble lines, one has two lines of 5 syllables followed by one of 3 syl-
lables, two have alternating lines of 5-+5 and 3 syllables, and in
nine the lines are quite irregular in length. In the verses with
counted syllables, many lines are too long or too short. In some of
the shorter unrimed yarahuis the alternation of stressed and un-

crude forms as: -aspa, -ispa; -achun, -uchun; etc. This is not rare in Ollanta
and Usca Paucar.

101 Francisco Pimentel (Historia critica de la poesia en México,—Mex.,
1892,—p. 124) says: “... dela poesia indo-hispana diremos que se compuso de
dos elementos: generalmente un idioma indigena y arte poético europeo.”

102 Or yaravi. Middendorf says (p. 220): “The yarahui was the oldest
form of Peruvian poetry. The word is derived from the verb yarahuiy or
‘harahuiy, ‘to tell or invent tales,’ and those members of the learned society of
the Amautas to whom was entrusted the cultivation of poetic art, that is, the
composition of poems and their preservation in memory by the aid of the
quipus, were called ‘harahuecs. Originally all poems, even those of historic
content, were called yarahuis. Now only love-songs are known by this name.”
This last fact seems due to the disappearance of all old yarahuis except short
love-songs. /

103 One of these without rime was written in 1834 and is of historic content.
The lines are irregular in length.

104Qne, no. 41, is a long modern poem of 200 lines, in stanzas with the
rime-scheme ab bcaddc. The lines are octosyllabic.
160 The Romanic Review

stressed syllables is noticeably regular.1°° There are few words of
Spanish origin,!°* but the ideas are sometimes Spanish or European.

In the Antologia ecuatoriana, Cantares del pueblo ecuatoriano,
compilacién formada por Juan Leén Mera (Quito, 1892), there are
four “ popular” lyrics in the Quechua dialect of Ecuador. Two, in
octosyllabic lines, are arranged in quatrains, with consonantal rime
or assonance in the second and fourth lines; one is in 5-syllable
lines, with irregular 4-i assonance and occasional consonantal rime;
and one has, in each stanza, four lines of 8 syllables, two of 4
syllables, and one of 8, with the rime-scheme—a—a ccc. The
volume contains also two Quechua lyrics by Dr. Luis Cordero.
These are in octosyllabics, with assonance in alternate lines (a-a in
one and t-a in the other). The work contains also some short
lyrics with alternate lines of Spanish and Quechua or with Spanish
and Quechua words mingled irregularly. Several prosodic ar-
rangements common to Spanish verses appear in these lyrics. In
one song a Spanish word rimes with a Quechua word.1%7

Tschudi?°® quotes eight lines from a Quechua song, said to be

105 Thus, in no. 10:
Pucu-pucuc quesampichus
mamallay-cca huachahuarccan,
cunan hina musphanaypac
llapa runac muchuchisccan,
mana picpa cchuyacunan
tampi-tampi purinaypac ...
Middendorf says that this song is very popular. One wonders whether some of
the lyrics in this collection should be arranged in lines at all. There are cer-
tainly some of the unrimed that could be arranged equally well in lines of
almost any length.
106 Cf, Dios, paloma, ni — ni.
107Leédn Mera says (Op. cit., page vi): “Va desapareciendo la manera
hibrida usada antiguamente por nuestro pueblo, que alternaba en sus cuartetas
versos espafioles y quechuas.” He cites the following as an example of such
verses:
Cuando estuve enamorado,
Shunguhuan huacarcanimi;
Ahora que te he olvidado,
Shunguhuan asicunimi.
The Quechua words mean:
Con el coraz6n lloraba.
Con el corazén me rio.
Note that all (both Quechua and Spanish) lines are octosyllabic.
108 Op. cit., pp. 201-202.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 161

“popular,” which a Herr von Bock found in Bolivia. They are in
quatrains of octosyllabics, with consonantal rime of the second and
fourth lines of each quatrain. Sir Clements R. Markham, in a
letter’°® to the writer of this article, says: “I have twenty songs
which were in the same manuscript from which I copied Ollantay
At Laris, but they are not ancient”; and he adds: “ My impression
is that in the earliest songs rhyme was not used, or was merely
accidental: certainly rhymes occur occasionally, but no trouble
\appears to have been taken to make them continuous.’

The distinguished Peruvian musician, Don Daniel Alomia
Robles, has recently traveled extensively among the Indians of
Upper Peru and has made a collection of their songs with musical
notation. At a meeting held in Lima, February 21, 1910, several
musicians read articles and played and sang the songs collected by
Sefior Alomia Robles.1?° Don Alberto Villalba Mufioz, in his
address, stated that the primitive musical scale of the Indians of
the Sierra has but five notes, and said further: “Las melodias an-
tiguas son generalmente de ritmo libre. El compas es un regulador
moderno.” Don Felipe Barreda y Laos said, in part: “En la época
colonial, la musica indigena sufre notablemente la influencia espafi-
ola. . . La religion catélica, impuesta 4 los vencidos, impresiond
profundamente el alma indigena, y reflejO su influencia en el arte;
se compusieron canciones religiosas y pastoriles, que se bailaban en
la pascua de navidad, muy semejantes a los villancicos espafioles.””111

109 Dated July 10, 1913.

110 An account of the session is given in a pamphlet entitled Conferencia
literario-musical dada en el salén de actuaciones ante S. E. el presidente de la
Republica el 21 de febrero de 1910, Lima, 1910. In a letter to La Prensa of
Buenos Aires, dated May 3, 1913, Sefior Alomia Robles says that he has col-
lected “143 aires 6 melodias, desarrolladas estrictamente dentro de la gama
incaica con su letra en quechua...A estos aires debd agregar los 167 que yo
he clasificado de coloniales por desarrollarse en la gama moderna.”

111 Garcilaso says: “Quando yo sali del Peru, que fue el afio de mil y
quinientos y sesenta dexe en el Cozco cinco Yndios que tafiian flautas dies-
trissimamente por qual quiera libro de canto de organo, que les pusiessen delante,
eran de Iuan Rodriguez de Villa Lobos, vezino que fue de aquella ciudad. En
estos tiempos que es ya el afio de mil y seyscientos y dos me dizen que ay tantos
Yndios tan diestros en musica para tafier instrumentos que donde quiera se
hallan muchos.” (Op. cit., II, 26.) And: “Dizen me, que en estos tiempos se

dan mucho los Mestizos a componer en Yndio estos versos, y otros de muchas
maneras, assi a lo diuino como a lo humano.” (Op. cit., II, 27.)
162 The Romanic Review

And: “La influencia espafiola se ha dejado sentir en los bailes in-
digenas, principalmente, en el de los negritos y los diables que se
bailan en la Sierra. . . La guitarra, el arpa, la bandurria, el violin,
son usados con toda frecuencia en la Sierra. . . El yaravi antiguo
ha dado origen 4 los tristes de nuestros dias, que conservan el fondo
indigena, y que son de una melancolia que armoniza con su nombre:
hay en ellos elementos de musica espafiola.” Through the courtesy
of Don Ricardo Palma, four of the lyrics collected in the Sierra by
Sefior Alomia Robles were sent to the writer of this article. In these
lyrics there is no rime except that caused by a rare repetition of a
word or a suffix. As arranged by the collector, one is in 6-syllable
lines, one in 4-syllable lines, one in lines of 6 or 7 syllables, and the
last in lines of 4, 5, or 6 syllables. The second and fourth, in the
nearly regular alternation of stressed and unstressed syllables, re-
semble the longer lyric given by Garcilaso.

What, then, is the prosody, if it may be called such, of aborig-
inal Quechua poetry? In the first place, there is no rime; but
neither did Greek and Latin verses have rime. The syllables were
usually not counted; but the counting of syllables is peculiar to
modern Romance verse, and much poetry has been composed the
world over without it. The fact is that Quechua prosody is most
primitive: there may be a certain rhythm due to the alternation of
stressed and unstressed syllables which may, or may not, be broken -
occasionally by a ternary “ foot,” and that is all, Quechua poetry was
composed to be sung, and some of the songs have regular alternation

ye stressed and unstressed syllables throughout, which may indicate
that they were sung to the accompaniment of dancing, or marching,
or manual labor. In others, and especially in love-songs, the succes-
‘sion of stresses is less regular, and it is probably these to which
pefior Villalba Mufioz refers whef he speaks of “ free rhythm,” by
which he may mean that they aré sung without the definite rhythm
of modern European music.* YPhere is no trace of any aboriginal

* Miss Alice C. Fletcher, in The Hako: A Pawnee Ceremony (in Twenty-
Second Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Part 2, Washing-
ton, 1904), says of songs sung by the Pawnee Indians: “ The unit of time is
marked by pulsations of the voice or by drum beats, and the words are found
Dent by elisions or stretched by added vocables to make them conform to the

musical measure” (p. 282) ;—thus in the song given on page 245, the words we
ra ti ka riki (‘now is he within standing’) are sung: ho-o-o! we ra tt ka riki ra
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 163

Werses in Ollanta. Barranca and others have held that Ollanta con-
tains fragments of ancient Quechua poetry. If this be true, the
“fragments” have been worked over and put into Spanish verse-
‘forms.
yt 5 HI
\)" Tschudi and Pacheco Zegarra hold that Ollanta was reduced to
writing in the sixteenth century, after the pacification of the coun-
try; but Middendorf showed conclusively that none of the known
texts could be of earlier date than the eighteenth century. Mark-
ham maintains that Ollanta was handed down by oral tradition till
the second half of the eighteenth century, when it was reduced to
writing. As we have seen, there is no record of the existence of the
play before it was produced by Dr. Valdés of Tinta. No one can
say positively that it was not thus handed down by word of mouth
during a space of two hundred and fifty years; but, on the other
hand, there is no evidence that it was. It seems scarcely conceiv-
able that a play such as Ollanta should have been transmitted orally
during so long a period. If it were a great national epic or an
exalted religious poem, it might have been thus preserved; but
Ollanta, at the best, is a mediocre secular drama of intrigue, some-
what incoherent and often frivolous.1!?
riki hi! Excellent examples of the interposition of meaningless syllables in songs
are given by Professor Franz Boas in The Social Organization and the Secret
Societies of the Kwakiutl Indians (in Report of the U. S. National Museum for
1895, Washington, 1897, p. 665 f. } And Miss Frances Densmore, in her work on
Chippewa Music, II (in Bulletin 53 of the Bureau of American Ethnology,
Washington, 1913), says: “ The words of Chippewa songs are frequently changed
to conform to the music, syllables being omitted or added, and meaningless cyl-
lables introduced” (p. 2). She also says that “the rhyhtm of the first measure
is rarely continued throughout the song ... The transcriptions show in many
instances a change of time with almost every measure” (p. 9).

Now, if these phenomena are found in the aboriginal songs of South Amer-
ica, the words of a song may not indicate the number of syllables that were sung
or what the syllables were.
ee to illustrate the frivolous nature of much of Ollanta, the opening words
of the first act are given:

Ollanta. Piqui-Chaqui, did you see the charming Cusi-Coyllur at her home?

Piqui-Chaqui. May the Sun-God forbid my going there. Are you not

frightened at the thought that she is the king’s daughter?

Ollanta. Even if she is, I shall love this tender dove. It is my desire to

shelter her alone in my heart.
Piqui-Chaqui. The Devil has made you mad, or you are losing your head.
164. The Romanic Review

The language of the texts is that of the eighteenth century."*®
If Ollanta was composed at this time, or if it was handed down by
oral tradition during a space of more than two hundred years, in
either case we should expect to find a considerable number of His-
panicisms; but there are, in fact, very few. If the play was first
composed in the eighteenth century, its author evidently took pains
to avoid words of Spanish origin that have crept into modern
Quechua, and to do this so successfully he must have been a scholar
who recognized Spanish words in Quechua dress when he saw them.
It is probable that, under the conditions that have prevailed in Peru,
if a Quechua drama should come down through two centuries in
the mouths of the people, more Hispanicisms would creep in than
would appear if the play were later written by one who consciously
sought to avoid them In this connection it is noteworthy that
there are no more Hisfanicisms in El hijo prédigo or Usca Paucar
than in Ollanta, if we except the sacerdotal terms in those religious
dramas.
he following Hispanicisms have been noted in Ollanta:
In Tschudi’s text, verses 261-266, occurs a passage, of which the
following is a translation:
There are girls everywhere. You are too much involved now. Some day

the king will hear of your plans; he will have your head cut off, and will
throw you into the fire.

Ollanta. Do not discourage me, or I shall strangle you on the spot. Do
not speak to me about that again, or I will tear you to pieces.

Piqui-Chaqui. Well, drag me along like a dead dog, but do not say to me
every year and day and night: “Go, Piqui-Chaqui, look for her” (Literal
translation of Middendorf’s version).

Would such words as these have been preserved intact for two hundred

and fifty years by word of mouth!

Middendorf (Ollanta Drama, p. 109) says that the Tschudi and Mark-
ham texts are in the dialect now spoken in the neighborhood of Cuzco. Dr.
Pietschmann, in a recent letter to the writer of this article, calls attention to the
word cachapuric in the lyric beginning yaya condor (found in Huaman Poma’s
chronicle). The word has there the old meaning of ‘bearer of a message,’
while in Ollanta, verse 74, it has the modern meaning of a ‘go-between’ or

redypéd to writing soon after the conquest, and that successive copyists changed
older for newer forms and introduced the few Hispanicisms. But there is no
evidence in favor of this theory, and none of the partisans of the antiquity of
Ollanta has suggested it, so far as I know. Certainly no manuscript older
than the eighteenth century has been published, nor has mention of any such
been made.

* pander.
on far as the language is concerned, it is not impossible that Ollanta was
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 165

“ Piqui-Chaqui. I had fallen asleep, and I dreamed a dream of
ill omen.

Ollanta. Of what?

Piqui-Chaqui. Of an ass tied fast.

Ollanta. It was you yourself.

Piqui-Chaqui. That is why my ears have grown so long.”

The line in which the word for “ass” is found runs as follows:
Huc asnuta huatascata.1!®

‘In the place of asnuta, Markham’s text has atoccta, ‘fox,’ and an
additional line that runs: “therefore my nose scents better.” The
“ Bolivian” manuscript has llamata, ‘llama,’ which Tschudi adopts
in his second edition. Pacheco Zegarra adopts the word for ‘fox’:
Middendorf retains that of ‘ass,’ which certainly keeps better the
point of the joke.

Verses 560-562 of Tschudi’s text read, in translation: “ Piqui-*
Chaqui (who has been searching through a deserted house),—
I found everything quiet. I looked everywhere: not even a cat was
there.” The form of the word expressing ‘cat’ is here misillapas
< mist. Garcilasso,'4® speaking of cats, says: ‘‘Los Yndios los
llaman micitu, porque oyeron dezir a los Espafioles miz, miz, quando
los Ilamauan.” Markham’s text has allcollapas, ‘dog,’ which
Tschudi accepts for his second edition with this naive statement of
his reasons for doing so: “because the ancient Peruvians did not
have house-cats.”247 Middendorf retains the word for ‘ cat,’ since,
he says,}1® cats, and not dogs, might be found in a deserted house.

In Tschudi’s (v. 1304) and Markham’s texts occurs a deriva-
tive of the word meaning ‘to marry,’ casaracurccani < Spanish casar,
which came into common use after the conquest. The “ Bolivian”
manuscript has ccascanaccurccant, ‘to unite,’ which Tschudi adopted
in his second edition.

In many verses of all three texts occurs the exclamation ay!
(Tschudi, v. 523)’, which is probably of Spanish origin.

Middendorf?® calls attention to Spanish idioms that have
been adopted by Quechua, and which appear in the texts of Ollanta,

115 Asnuta is the accusative case of asnu < Span. asno.
116 Op, cit., IX, 20.

117 They did have dogs.

118 Ollanta Drama, p. 140.

119 Ollanta Drama, p. 143.
166 The Romanic Review

such as the literal equivalents of dar gusto, ser cuchillo de alguno,
no hay remedio, voy muerto, etc.

The number of references in Ollanta to things or ideas of Span-
ish, or at least of European, origin is somewhat larger than the num-
ber of Spanish words. Thus, in Tschudi, verses 15-17 say: “ Some
day the Inca will learn of your intentions, and he will have your head
cut off.” Middendorf says decapitation was probably not known
to the ancient Peruvians: that it is even doubtful if they had any
instrument which could serve this purpose.1”°

In Tschudi, v. 30, occurs the well known expression: “ death

with his” (or “ her) scythe.”
In the “Song of the Unknown” much is made of the pink and
white complexion of the lady,?*! although such a complexion is un-
known among the dusky Indian maidens. Dr. Pietschman!?? says
that sicila, the name of a blue flower, is used as an appellation of a
maiden.

In one of the dialogues we read:

“ Piqui-Chaqui. You give freely to all, and with me alone you
are niggardly.

_, Ollanta. Why do you wish anything?

” Piqui-Chaqui. Why? For this and for that. To offer clothes
to others ; that others may see that I have silver,!?® and respect me.”
All authorities agree that the ancient Peruvians did not use gold
or silver as money.'24

Rumifiahui says that all Cuzco mourns the death of Pachacutic,
and “all are dressed in black.”125 Now, gray, and not black, was
the color distinctive of mourning in ancient Peru. Cf. Garcila-

120 But Cieza de Leon, op. cit., 2a parte, mentions decapitation. Cf. chapters
XXVI and LXIV. And Huaman Poma gives a picture of a kind of halberd or
battle-axe of copper, with a long handle. See Dr. Pietschmann’s article in Eng-
lish on Huaman Poma’s chronicle.

121 Cf.: “the white of her beautiful ear”; “the achancarai” (a red flower)
“blooms on her face in the midst of snow”; “white alternates with red”;
“her soft neck is as white as snow.”

122 Cf, article in English on Huaman Poma’s chronicle.

123 Tschudi, v. 661. Pacheco Zegarra translates the last clause: “ Je voudrais
sonner mon argent: ca donne de la considération.”

124 Cf, Garcilaso, op. cit., V, 7; and VI, 1 and 2.

125 Tschudi, v. 1064.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 167

so 126 “los Reyes lo mas del tiempo vestian de negro, y el de luto
dellos era el vellori, color pardo que Ilaman.”

In Tschudi, v. 1287, we read: “. . . bound with these iron
chains.” The ancient Peruvians did not use iron.1?? Tschudi
translates this: “. . . mit ehernen Ketten,’” and states in a note
that the word quellay was employed to denote iron after the coming
of the Spaniards. Middendorf'?* considers this passage of un-
doubtedly modern origin. Pacheco Zegarra translates: “attachée a
cette chaine de fer.”

_ And Piqui-Chaqui says: “ Ask me and give me something, and

M will tell you,” to which Rumifiahui replies: “I will give you one
stake with which to beat you and three with which to hang you.”
Does not this refer to the medieval European conception of the
gallows ?12°

/ Neither Garcilaso nor any of the chroniclers make mention of
an Ollanta, or Ollantai, who was a military chieftain or official of
any kind under the Incas.'*° Palacios, in his article in El Museo
erudito, speaks of Ollanta as probably a native of Tampu and chief-
tain of his district, who by courage and talent rose to the post of
governor of a province, but Palacios does not cite authorities.

Pachacutic, or Pachacuti, was a powerful Inca of the first half
of the fifteenth century. According to the drama, Thupac Yupan-
qui was the son and successor of Pachacutic; but, according to Gar-
cilaso and most of the chroniclers, he was the son of the Inca Yu-
panqui.1®4 In the third act of the drama, the young Inca, Thupac

126 Op, cit., VI, 21: cf. also IX, 6.

127Cf. Garcilasso, op. cit., II, 18: “no supieron sacar el hierro aunque
tuvieron minas del.” And, II, 28: “de quantas herramientas usan los de por
aca (in Spain) para sus oficios, no alcangaron los del Peru mas de la hacha y
acuela, y essas de cobre.”

128 Op. cit., p. 139.

129 Garcilaso, op. cit., IV, 19 speaks of execution by hanging, but does not
speak, of the gallows.

Ny fosehans The Incas of Peru, p. 335, refers 1o evidence taken by the Vice-

roy Toledo, in 1570-71, from some two hundred witnesses, one of whom was

named Ullantay. This seems to be the only mention in writing of a name similar
to Ollanta before the appearance of the drama.

181 Huaman Poma, in his list of Incas, gives Topa Inga Yupanqui as the

son of Pachacuti Inga Yupanqui. According to Huaman Poma, therefore,

Pachacuti and Yupanqui were one and the same person (cf. Dr. Pietschmann’s
article in German).
168 The Romanic Review

Yupanqui, leaves Ollanta in charge of the government and sets out
to conquer the Chancas; although, according to all accounts, the
Chancas had been completely subjugated during the reign of Pacha-
cutic. But these anachronisms, if they be such, would not be sur-
prising, even if the drama were composed in the first or second dec-
ade of the sixteenth century, as Tschudi and Pacheco Zegarra sup-
pose,—that is, nearly a century after the events described.

/._ There are, however, certain passages in Ollanta which differ
so markedly from the accounts of the chroniclers, that it seems
highly improbable that they should have been composed in the time
of the Incas. Thus, Ollanta, who is described as one of lowly
origin,®? finally marries the sister of the Inca Thupac Yupanqui,
and is appointed viceroy when the king leaves on a military expedi-
tion; although all authorities agree that in ancient Peru these honors
could not come to one of plebeian origin. But to this charge
against the historical accuracy of the drama, answer may be made
that in several places it seems to be indicated that Ollanta was of
royal blood. He is several times called auqui (Tschudi, verses:
246, 286, 400), a term applied only to princes of the royal blood.
He is said to be the governor of the province of Antisuyu (Tschudi,
verses: 152, 495), one of the four divisions of the empire, over
which according to Garcilaso,’** only “Incas legitimos en sangre”
could rule. And, after his rebellion, his followers proclaim him
their Inca. It seems impossible to reconcile this inconsistency of
statement. If Ollanta had been of royal blood, the king would
doubtless have been quite willing to give to this powerful chieftain
one of his daughters to wife, but then there could have been no
drama. The motif of the play is the ambition of a vassal who
aspires to marry the Inca’s daughter, and who rebels when his suit
is scornfully rejected.

The Elect Virgins in the convent at Cuzco were subject to the
strictest seclusion. They were rarely permitted to leave the build-
ing, and then only under escort; and they could be visited only by
the queen and her daughters. Garcilaso says:

182 Ollanta asks the highpriest: “ Will he (the Inca) reject me since I am
not of Inca blood” (Tschudi, verses 237-8). Ollanta says to the king: “Why
have you raised me up from plebeian rank?” (Tschudi, v. 480), and the king
answers: “O, you are of lowly origin” (Tschudi, v. 510).

188 Op, cit. II, 15.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta ; 169

“Viuian en perpetua clausura hasta acabar la vida con guarda de
perpetua virginidad, no tenian locutorio, ni torno, ni otra parte al-
guna por donde pudiessen hablar, ni ver hombre, ni muger sino eran
ellas mismas unas con otras, porque dezian que las mugeres del Sol
no auian de ser tan communes que las viessen nadie; y esta clausura
era tan grande, que aun el propio Inca no queria gozar del preuilegio,
que como Rey podia tener de las ver, y hablar ; Porque nadie se atre-
uiesse a pedir semejante preuilegio. Sola la Coya, que es la Reyna,
y sus hijas tenian licencia de entrar en la casa, y hablar con las encer-
radas asi mocas como viejas” (IV, 2). “.. . siendo la principal
intencién de aquellos Reyes Incas que en esta (casa) de las monjas
no entrassen hombres. . . Y porque las virgenes de aquella casa del
Cozco eran dedicadas para mugeres del Sol, auian de ser de su misma
sangre, quieo dezir hijas de los Incas, assi del Rey como de sus
deudos los /ligitimos, y limpios de sangre agena, porque de las
mezcladas con sangre agena que Ilamamos bastardas, no podian en-
trar en esta casa del Cozco, de la qual vamos ablando: y la razon
desto dezian que, como no se sufria dar al Sol muger corrupta sino
virgen, assi tampoco era licito darse la bastarda con mezcla de
sangre agena”’ (IV, 1). And Palacios says (op cit.) : “La casa de
las Virgines escogidas . . . que hubo en el Ccoscco, y ocupaba el
sitio en que hoy esta el monasterio de Santa Catalina de Siena. . .
con tal estrictez en su recogimiento que la escogida que recibian en
él, no volvia 4 ver, oir, 6 hablar ni aun con sus propios padres, siendo
solo permitido 4 la reina 6 Ccoya y 4 las Infantas 6 Nustas de la
familia real, el entrar y visitar aquella casa.”*5*

And yet, in Ollanta, a girl, whose father was unknown, wanders
into the convent and out again with the greatest freedom; and near
the end of the play, the king and his retinue enter the convent at
the request of this unknown girl, to see a strange woman in chains!

The Amautas of ancient Peru formed a learned corporation, that
directed the education, or training, of the priests and nobles; and the
members of this corporation were the poets and historians of the
empire, in so far as there could be historians and poets in a people
that did not possess the art of writing. Middendorf1®* says well
that ‘the poets of the Incas were the legal experts and the guardians
of social and religious customs.” It is most improbable that they
should have composed a drama which, in such important particulars,
stands thus in contradiction to established usage. Ollanta must

184 Cf. also Cieza de Leon, op. cit., 2a parte, Cap. XXVII.
135 Ollanta Drama, p. 135.
170 The Romanic Review

have been composed at a time when the conditions that prevailed un-
der the Incas were largely forgotten.

As Ollanta resembles the old Spanish drama in technique, so it
does in spirit, with one notable exception. The exception is that the
lovers do not meet alone on the stage. The chroniclers tell us
that the Inca gave wives to the princes of the blood, and even chief-
tains of districts selected wives for their subjects. If this be true,
love-making as portrayed in the modern drama was unknown in
ancient Peru, and the author of Ollanta was evidently aware of the
fact.

On the other hand, Ollanta would seem to resemble the older
Spanish drama in several important particulars. In the first scenes
the galdn and gracioso give the initial exposition of the argument of
the play. The gracioso is not unlike those of Lope de Vega, Cal-
derén and other dramatists of the Siglo de Oro.1*"

The coup-de-thédire in the third act, when the king pardons all
and gives them his blessing, seems reminiscent of the drama of
Christian Europe. And when Yma-Sumac throws herself before
the king and demands justice, one is reminded of Corneille’s
Chiméne or her prototype in Guillén de Castro’s drama. And
finally, at the end of the play, all the important actors, save one who
-died, are gathered on the stage.

IV

With regard to the existence of some sort of drama among the
ancient Peruvians, Garcilaso says:

“No les falt6 abilidad a los Amautas, que eran los philosophos,
para componer comedias y tragedias, que en dias y fiestas solennes
representauan delante de sus Reyes, y de los sefiores que asistian en

186 Nor do they in the Christian drama Usca Paucar, although Usca Paucar
falls in love and marries.

187 We have already had the gracioso’s joke of the ass. Some others follow.
When Olianta boasts: “If the whole land rises against me, my arm will strike
down all. My hands, my feet, are clubs; my axe shall hew them all”; Piqui-
Chaqui rejoins: “And even I might have given the man a kick, if he hadn't
been armed.” In the solemn moment when the prisoners are brought in chains
before the king to be judged, the latter, looking at Piqui-Chaqui (“ Flea-Foot”),
says: “ Who is this?” Piqui-Chaqui answers: “In every valley there are many
fleas which bite people. One drives them away with warm water. Let that be
my punishment.”
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 171

la Corte. Los representantes no eran viles, sino Incas y gente noble
hijos de Curacas, y los mismos Curacas y capitanes hasta maeses de
campo: porque los autos de las tragedias se representassen al propio,
cuyos argumentos siempre eran de hechos militares, de triunfos y
victorias, de las hazafias y grandezas de los Reyes passados, y de
otros heroicos varones. Los argumentos de las comedias eran de
agricultura, de hazienda, de cosas caseras, y familiares” (II, 27).
“La misma abilidad muestran para las sciencias si se las ensefiassen,
como consta por las comedias, que en diversas partes han represen-
tado, porque es assi que algunos curiosos religiosos de diuersas re-
ligiones, principalmente de la Compajfiia de Iesus por aficionar a los
Yndios a los misterios de nuestra redencion, han compuesto come-
dias para que las representassen los Yndios porque supieron que las
representauan en tiempo de sus Reyes Incas” (II, 28).

And Juan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamayhua, in
Antigiiedas del Peru (cir. 1620) mentions types of dramatic com-
positions, which Markham?" translates as ‘joyous representations,’
‘farces’ and ‘tragedies.’ But neither Garcilaso nor Salcamayhua
gives the title of any play or the name of any dramatic author, nor
do they say whether the plays were in prose or in verse. If there
were plays, they could not have been written, for the ancient Peru-
vians had no system of writing. It is possible that quipus may
have been used to aid memory. This curious instrument was espe-
cially suited for reckonings and statistical tables. “In comparison
with writing by letters, they” (the quipus) ‘were only a quite im-
perfect makeshift. For even if it was possible with intelligence
and patience to express facts, commands, and even ideas, the form
of the idea,—its wording,—could not be rendered.”?*® If quipus
were used by the Amautas to help them remember dramas, none of
these quipus was preserved, or at least there is no record of any
having been deciphered after the conquest. Don Ricardo Palma!*°
in a letter**! to the writer of this article says:

“Yo no creo que en la época de las Incas hubiéramos tenido lite-
ratura teatral; para mi el famoso drama fué escrito en las postrime-

188 Op, cit., p. 147.

189 Middendorf, op. ctt., p. 56.

140 The foremost man of letters in Peru, till 1912 director of the National
Library at Lima, and author of Tradiciones peruanas (Lima, 1875 and 1899),
Mis ultimas tradiciones (Barcelona, 1906), ez al.

141 Dated Jan. 10, 1913, at Miraflores, Lima, Peru.
172 The Romanic Review

rias del siglo XVIII por el cura de Tinta. Fijese usted en que las
reminiscencias del teatro griego abundan en la obra, como lo com-
prueba la introduccién de coros, y que la primera escena no desdice
de las comedias de Lope, Calderon y Tirso, pues galan y gracioso
hacen en la primera escena lo que se llama la exposicion inicial del
argumento. . . .442, En conclusién, y lamentando la imposibilidad
en que me hallo!*® de discurrir sobre el tema, apuntandole las
muchas razones en que fundo mi opinion de que en el tiempo de los
Incas no existié literatura teatral, me reitero ...” In a later
letter'** Sefior Palma adds: “Mal podia haber en el Pert: anterior 4
la conquista vida literaria, pues ni siquiera sabiamos escribir. Des-
conociamos el uso de la pluma, y no teniamos alfabeto. Lo del fa-
moso drama Ollanta no pasa de una supercheria del cura Valdés.
Ya la critica lo ha comprobado suficientemente. Los Peruanos no
teniamos ni noticia del uso del papel, de la pluma y de la tinta, antes
de que viniera Don Francisco Pizarro a conquistarnos, y fué a fines
del siglo XVIII cuando se le occurié al cura Valdés hacernos hasta
dramaturgos.”

It is most improbable that the ancient Peruvians, without 4
system of writing and, consequently, without a literature, should
have composed dramas like those of modern Europe. They may
well have had ballads of historical content, and they may have had
scenic pageants accompanied by song and dance. Cieza de Leén,
Garcilaso, and others, speak of ballads. Thus, Cieza de Leon:

“Y es tambien de saber, que fué costumbre dellos y ley muy
usada y guardada, de escoger cada uno, en tiempo de su reynado,
tres 6 cuatro hombres ancianos de los de su nacion, 4 los cuales,

142 Here he speaks of General Mitre’s article (Ollaniay. Estudio sobre el
drama quichua, in La Nueva Revista de Buenos Aires (1881), by General
Bartolomé Mitre), saying that Mitre “opina, como yo, que los peruanos no
tuvieron teatro.” In this article General Mitre advances many reasons for be-
lieving Ollanta to be modern. Among those not already given by others are the
following: Ollanta is a drama of capa y espada; it puts emphasis on conjugal
fidelity, dislike of polygamy, and humanity to the vanquished; rebelion is con-
doned; the High Priest refers to the broken thread of destiny; the yaravi is
reminiscent of the Song of Solomon; the wit of the gracioso is Andalusian. In
the introduction to his English translation of The Second Part of the Chronicle
of Peru by Pedro Cieza de Leon (London, 1883), Markham attempts, in a
humorous vein, to answer Mitre, whom he accuses of using faulty texts, and
adds that “the true version must be considered as that which excludes all
words and passages which are not common to al/ the older manuscripts.”

148. Don Ricardo is eighty years of age and in poor health.

144 Dated March 19, 1913.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 173

viendo que para ello eran habiles y suficientes, les mandaba que todas
las cosas que sucediesen en las provincias durante el tiempo de su
reynado, ora fuesen présperas, ora fuesen adversas, las tuviesen en
la memoria, y dellas hiciesen y ordenasen cantares, para que por
aquel sonido se pudiese entender en lo futuro haber asi pasado; con
tanto questos cantares no pudiesen ser dichos ni publicados fuera de
la presencia del Sefior.”14® And Garcilaso says: “Los Incas supie-
ron componer en prosa, tambien como en verso, fabulas breves, y
compendiosas por via de poesia, para encerrar en ellas doctrina
moral, o para guardar alguna tradicion de su ydolatria, o de los
hechos famosos de sus Reyes, o de otros grandes varones.’’!46

On page 131 of this article, mention was made of the historical
pageants that were given at Potosi in the early days of thattown. In
an address entitled La musica indigena en sus relaciones con la li-
teratura, given by Don Felipe Barreda y Laos at Lima, Peru, in
1910,**" the speaker describes somewhat similar representations that
are given by the Indians of the Sierra today:

“ Por medio de un baile que se Ilama de los incas, los indios de la
Sierra mantienen siempre vivo el recuerdo doloroso de la conquista,
reproduciendo con acompafiamiento de danza, y canto de un coro de
diez 4 doce jovenes, el episodio de la prision y muerte del inca Ata-
hualpa. Regularmente, se ejecuta este baile de la siguiente manera:
diez 4 doce jévenes, lujosamente vestidas, se dividen en dos filas,
colocadas frente 4 frente, y un tanto distanciadas. En el espacio
intermediario, y hacia un extremo, se coloca un indio disfrazado de
Pizarro, enmascarado, con sombrero de picos y espada. En el ex-
tremo opuesto, y cerrando el cuadro, esta Atahualpa, que aparece
entre dos fiustas: dos indios, también disfrazados de espafioles,
acompafian 4 Pizarro. Comienza el baile al son de un tamboril y
de una flauta, y cuando éste concluye, sucede una lucha entre Pizarro
y Atahualpa, que termina con la prisidn y muerte del inca, entre
cantos tristes y lamentaciones del coro de payas inconsolables.”

It is certainly likely that the “dramas” of ancient Peru were
akin to these scenic representations rather than to the plays of
Calderon.*

145 Op. cit., 2a parte, Cap. XII.

146 Op, cit., IV, 1.

147 Cf. Conferencia literario-musical, mentioned above.

*In The Giegiience, A Comedy Ballet in the Nahuatl-Spanish Dialect of
Nicaragua, Edited by Daniel G. Brinton (Philadelphia, 1883), Brinton states that
174 The Romanic Review

Before closing this article, it seems best to give the views con-
cerning the source of Ollanta held by some other Peruvian and
Spanish scholars. The distinguished Peruvian historian, Don Man-
uel de Mandiburu, in an article entitled La lengua Quichua 6
Quechua,'*® says:

“E] notable publicista argentino General don Bartolomé Mitre y
nuestro laborioso amigo don Ricardo Palma han sostenido que el
Ollanta no pudo ser escrito en tiempo de los Incas, sino escrito en
quechua, a fines del siglo XVIII, por persona conocedora del teatro
griego y del espafiol, opinion de la que también participa el compila-
dor de estos apuntes, por estimarla muy fundada.” Dr. José Ga-
briel Cosio, a professor in the University of Cuzco, published an
article in the university review, La Sierra (August, 1911), entitled
El melodrama “ Ollanta.” He sums up his conclusion in these
words: “Es indudable que el drama tiene todas las trazas de ser
obra de alguien que conocia el teatro espafiol representado en el
siglo de oro de la Literatura Castellana por Lope de Vega y Calde-
ron. La disposiciédn de las escenas, la ficcién de los episodios y,
sobre todo, el gracioso 6 bufo representado por Piqui-Chaqui, mues-

in Nicaragua, in the sixteenth century, the Indians performed symbolic “ bailes”
at some of which songs “of an historical character” were sung, and quotes Fer-
nandez de Oviedo, who “was in Nicaragua in 1529” (Historia general de las
Indias, Lib. XLII, Cap. XI. For accounts of similar dances in Mexico during
the sixteenth century, see Girolamo Benzoni, Historia del Nuovo Mondo, fol. 103
Venetia, 1565), and Diego Duran, Historia de las Indias de Nueva Espaia (ed.
Mexico, 1880), tomo II, p. 232. Of the Baile del Giiegiience, 6 Macho-ratén,”
Brinton says: “ Several copies of this exist in manuscript and from a comparison
of two of them, the late Dr. C. H. Berendt obtained, in 1874, the text which is
printed in this volume . . . Its antiquity and authorship are alike unknown.” The
play “is composed in a mixed dialect, a jargon of low Spanish and corrupt Aztec
(Nahuatl)* He considers the spirit of the play to be aboriginal because it
differs from the Spanish drama in “the absence of all reference to the emotions
of love... in that, while females are introduced, they are strictly mutce per-
sonae, even the heroine not speaking a word; that there are no monologues or
soliloquies; that there is no separation into scenes, the action being continuous
throughout; that there is neither prologue, epilogue or chorus; and especially
the wearisome repetition of the same phases.” Giegiience is a farce in prose
consisting mainly of horseplay and coarse dialogues. Giiegiience himself is a
boasting, lying, licentious knave whose humor consists largely in pretending to
be deaf or to misunderstand the words spoken to him.

148 Published posthumously in Apuntes histéricos, Lima, 1902. Mandiburu’s
most important work is the Diccionario histérico del Peri.
The Quechua Drama, Ollanta 175

tran a las claras su origen colonial.” Although the great Spanish
literary critic Menéndez y Pelayo was not a Quechua scholar, yet
his knowledge of comparative literature gives weight to his pro-
nouncement regarding the source of Ollanta. He says:1#°“. . . el
famoso Ollantai, que se ha querido dar por antiquisimo texto drama-
tico de dicha literatura (quechua), pero que, leido desapasionada-
mente, no parece, 4 lo menos en las traducciones, mas que una
imitacion de las comedias espafiolas, hecha por algun ingenioso mi-
sionero del siglo XVII, y quiza de tiempo muy posterior.” To these
expressions of opinion must be added the positive words of Dr.
Lenz in his recent letter to the writer of this article, to which refer-
ence has already been made; “ Ollanta is no more Incaic than the
Arama del hijo prédigo published by Middendorf.”

It has been shown that Middendorf, who is the most learned and
the most thorough of all Quechua scholars, was the first to deter-
mine the age of the texts of Ollanta by making a critical study of the

“language. Now, curiously, neither Middendorf nbr any other of
the Quechua scholars who have been mentioned in this article, has
made a study of the versification of the play, and yet the versifica-
tion is the most convincing evidence we have that no part of Ollanta
was composed in its present form before the Spanish conquest. For
if there was an Ollanta drama in the time of the Incas,—and of this
there is not the slightest evidence,—it has been worked over from
beginning to end and put into Spanish verse-forms.

Vv

The story of Ollanta,—at least in part,—may be ancient,1®°
but this has not been proven. The Ollanta drama, in its present
form, is of the eighteenth century: this date is clearly indicated by
all the manuscripts now extant. It is possible that the play was
composed at an earlier date, and that successive copyists changed

149 Antologia de poetas hispano-americanos, Vol. III (1894), p. cclxxvii.

150 Palacios (in El Museo erudito, 1837) gives an Ollanta tradition; but as
he heard it some sixty years after the public performance of the play, it is
impossible to determine whether the tradition is the source of the play, or the
play the source of the tradition. Pacheco Zegarra (op. cit., p. xlix) says: “La
plupart (des Indiens), peut-étre tous, sauf de rares exceptions, ignorent I’exist-
ence d’un drame qui a pour base I’épisode historique d’Ollantat et méme la tradi-
tion relative 4 cette épisode.”
176 The Romanic Review

the language to conform to that spoken in their day, but of this
there is no evidence. The spirit of the play, the dramatic arrange-
ment, and the versification, show clearly that the author was ac-
quainted with the Spanish drama, and that he imitated it. The date
of the play has not been definitely established, but it could not have
been prior to the Spanish conquest. The evidence points to the
eighteenth century as the date of its composition, and to Valdés as
its author. The Ollanta that we possess is not an “ancient Inca
drama,” for whether the subject matter be ancient or not, the play
is modern. To call Ollanta “an ancient Inca drama” is as absurd
as to call Shakspere’s Julius Caesar and Corneille’s Horace ancient
Roman dramas.
Exr1yaH CLARENCE HILLs,
Cotorapo COLLEGE.
Page
Missing
In Printing
Page
Missing
in Printing
Some Spanish-American Poets
’ x

Elijah Clarence Hills
Copyright 1915
By Evian CLARENCE HILLs
SOME SPANISH-AMERICAN POETS.*

In the introduction to the first volume of his American
Letters (Cartas Americanas, 1a serie, Madrid, 1889) Juan
Valera, the eminent novelist and literary critic, and
one-time minister to Washington, said: ‘In the natural
and exact sciences, and in industry and commerce, English
America . . . has prospered more; but one may say
without boasting that in letters, with regard to both quan-
tity and quality, Spanish America is in advance of English
America.”” The distinguished Hispanic scholar, Professor
James Fitzmaurice-Kelly, in his History of Spanish Litera-
ture (New York, 1908), gives the reply courteous to Valera
in these words: ‘He (Valera) rarely writes without estab-
lishing some ingenious and suggestive parallel or pronoun-
cing some luminous judgment; but . . . his desire
to please often stays him from arriving at a clear con-
clusion . . . his sauve complaisance becomes a formid-
able weapon in such a performance as the Cartas Americanas,
where . . . youset the book down with the impression
that the writers of the South-American continent have been
complimented out of existence by a stately courtier.”

After reading many volumes of Spanish-American
verses, one is led to believe that Hispano-American poetry,
though more voluminous, is probably not a whit finer and
nobler than that of English America; and that, on the other
hand, it is in no-wise inferior. In attempting to study the
poets of Spanish America, one is confronted with a bewil-
dering array of mediocre poets, above whom seem to rise
here and there a greater artist. But, after all, whatever
one’s choice of these artists may be, it will have been
largely influenced by personal taste; and it is, therefore,
with considerable diffidence that six poets have been
chosen, not as certainly the best in every respect, but as

*This article has been given as a lecture at Harvard University, the University of
Wisconsin, the University of California, and Colorado College.
222 CoLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION.

representative of the best that Spanish America has given
to the world of letters.

The two most notable women-writers of Spanish
America are Avellaneda and Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz.
Much has been written about Gertrudis Gémez de
Avellaneda y Arteaga (1816-1873), the romantic poetess,
who was born in Cuba but went to Spain at the age of
twenty, and is therefore generally considered a Spanish
rather than a Cuban writer. Sor Juana Inés (1651-1695),
the Mexican nun of the seventeenth century, is not so well
known. Her worldly name was Dofia Juana Inés de
Asbaje y Ramfrez de Cantillana, and it is no wonder,
therefore, that she preferred the simple pen-name of “‘Julia.”’
The lady first saw the light of day in a village near Mex-
ico City. Her father, Don Pedro Manuel de Asbaje, was
a Basque of good family, and her mother was a Mexican
lady of Spanish descent, Dofia Isabel Ramirez. Tradition
holds that Juana Inés was a precocious child, as tradition
is wont to hold with regard to children who had in them
the germ of greatness. It is said that when she was only
three years of age she slipped away to school one day with
an older sister, and learned to read and write before her
mother knew that she was going to school at all. When still
a small child she astonished her parents by announcing that
as cheese dulled the intellect she would eat no more of it.
At the age of seven or eight years Juana Inés began to
write verses, her first composition being one in honor of
the Blessed Sacrament. As there were no colleges for
women in Mexico during the seventeenth century, our
little lady is said to have begged her father to let her dress
as a man and thus attend one of the colleges in Mexico
City. This request was refused by an unsympathetic
father; but he allowed her to begin the study of Latin
with a tutor. With only twenty lessons, supplemented by
much private reading, Juana Inés acquired so complete a
command of Latin, if her biographers can be trusted, that
she wrote and spoke it perfectly. But after all these
exaggerated statements have been sifted, the fact remains
Some SpanisH-AMERICAN PoETts. 223

‘that the child had intellectual curiosity in an unusual
degree, as may be gathered from this statement that occurs
in her writings: “Since the first light of reason illumined
me, I had so vehement and strong an inclination to letters,
that neither the reproofs of others, of which I have had many,
nor my own reflections, of which I have made not a few,
sufficed to turn me from this natural impulse which God

gave me. . . Since in women the natural beauty of the
hair is so highly esteemed, I cut off five or six finger-lengths
of mine, . . . and imposed upon myself the law that

when it grew again to where it was before, if I did not
know this or the other thing which I had set out to learn
in the meantime, I should cut it off again as punishment
for my stupidity; . . . for it did not seem reasonable
to me that a head so bare of ideas should be adorned with
hair.”’

When still a young girl Juana Inés became a maid-in-
waiting in the viceroy’s palace, where her beauty and wit
attracted much attention. But she soon renounced the
worldly life of the court, and apparently moved by a
determination never to marry, joined a religious order. In
the convent of San Jerénimo she turned for solace to books.
She was an indefatigable reader, and in time she accumu-
lated a library of four thousand volumes, as well as several
musical instruments and some scientific apparatus. Two
years before her death Sor Juana received from the bishop
of Puebla a letter that affected her greatly. The bishop
censured her devotion to worldly studies, and urged her to
give her mind thereafter entirely to God. The sister, who
was now forty-two years old, complied with the advice
even more fully than the good bishop had intended. After
selling her books and instruments and giving the proceeds
to the poor, Sor Juana made a general confession, wrote
with her own blood a solemn declaration of faith, and
renouncing all worldly things during the remaining months
of her life, she gave herself entirely to religious meditation
and penance.

On reading the verses of Sor Juana, one is immediately
224 CoLoraDo CoLLEGE PUBLICATION.

struck by their unevenness. The defects and errors, of
which there are many, seem largely due to hasty impro-
visation or to the dark and devious ways of Gongorism.
In this connection, however, and in all fairness to the
poetess, one must acknowledge that most of her verses,
considering the period in which they are written, are
extraordinarily free from Gongoristic exaggeration. Her
better verses are of two kinds: those that give evidence of
an unusual degree of cleverness and mental acuteness, and
those that have the ring of spontaneity and sincerity. She
was rather too fond of making a display of her cleverness
on all occasions, and only in some of her erotic and relig-
ious poems does this fondness for display sink beneath a
rising tide of tumultuous passion. As an exponent of
erotic mysticism Sor Juana is most interesting. In the
most passionate of her erotic verses there is an apparent
sincerity which makes it difficult for the lay reader to
believe that she had not been profoundly influenced by
human love,—as when she gives expression to the feelings
of a loving wife for a dead husband, or laments the absence
of a lover, or tells of a great jealousy.

In addition to her lyrics, Sor Juana wrote three autos
(short dramatic compositions in which the characters are
biblical or allegorical): The Scepter of Saint Joseph (El
Cetro de San José), Saint Hermenegild (San Hermenegildo),
and The Divine Narcissus (El Divino Narciso) which is
the best of the three and contains some beautiful mystic
songs; and two secular plays: Love is a Greater Laberynth
(Amor es Mds Laberinto), from the story of Theseus and
Ariadne, and The Obligations of a House (Empefios de una
Casa), an imitation of the capa y espada drama of Cal-
deron. It was unfortunate for the fame of Sor Juana that
her poems were first published (Vol. I, Madrid, 1689)
under the bombastic title, Castalian Inundation of the
Unique Poetess and Tenth Muse (Inundactén Castdlida de
la Unica Poetisa, Musa Décima), Sor Juana Inés de la
Cruz; but such titles were then in fashion.

As to the place held by this Mexican nun in Spanish
SomE SpanisH-AMERICAN Ports. 225

literature, critics, of course, disagree (if critics agreed, there
would be no need of critics). Menéndez y Pelayo, in his
Anthology of Spanish-American Poets, Vol. I, declares Sor
Juana superior to all other Spanish poets of the reign of
Charles the Second; but this, after all, is not great praise,
for good poets were not numerous during that period.
Pimentel, in his History of Mexican Poetry, censures Juana
Inés’s frequent errors in diction and in prosody and her
occasional Gongoristic expressions, and proclaims the Mex-
ican friar, Manuel Navarrete (1768-1809), a greater phil-
osophic and religious poet. But when all has been said and
done, the fact remains that Sor Juana is Mexico’s greatest
poetess, and her finest poems may be read by all with
pleasure and profit. Her most widely known verses, but
by no means her best, are the quatrains in defence - of
woman. The following lines are a free rendering of some
of the stanzas of this poem:

Oft you do everything you can
To lead a woman into shame,

And then, unjust and foolish man,
You give the woman all the blame.

You seek to kiss her modest lip,
You lure her with the sirens’ call,
You do your best to make her slip,
And yet you blame her if she fall.

Your humor, Sir, so strangely grim,
Completely lacks a sense of right:
Why do you make the mirror dim
If you desire it to be bright?

And who is worse, now tell me, pray,
Who most excites old Satan’s grin,
The one who weakly sins for pay,
Or the strong man who pays for sin?

Oh you should try, at any price,

To shield a maid from sin and shame;
But if you lead her into vice,

You ought to love her just the same!

The three pre-eminent classic poets of Spanish America
are Bello of -Venezuela, Olmedo of: Ecuador, and the Cuban
Heredia. Of these, Don Andrés Bello (1781-1865) was the
most consummate master of poetic diction, though he
226 CoLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION.

lacked the brilliancy of Olmedo and the spontaneity of
Heredia. Born in Caracas and educated in the schools
of his native city, Bello was sent to England in the year
1810 to further the cause of the revolution, and he remained
in that country till 1829, when he was called to Chile to
take service in the Department of Foreign Affairs. His
life may, therefore, be divided into three distinct periods.
In Caracas he studied chiefly the Latin and Spanish. clas-
sics and the elements of international law, and he made
metrical translations of Virgil and Horace. Upon arriving
in England at the age of twenty-nine years, he gave him-
self with enthusiasm to the study of Greek, Italian and
French, as well as to English. These nineteen years in
England were still a part of the formative period of Bello’s
life, for, unlike Sor Juana, his development was slow. He
read and wrote incessantly when not engaged in giving
private lessons in order to earn his livelihood,—for he re-
ceived little support from America. He came to know
many scholars, and he was especially intimate with James
Mill, whom he is said to have helped to decipher an enig-
matic document of Bentham, and with Blanco-White, and
other Spanish men of letters who were living there in exile
on account of their liberal views. Bello joined with the
Spanish and Hispano-American scholars in London in the
publication of several literary reviews, notably the Censor
Americano (1820), the Biblioteca Americana (1823), and the
Repertorio Americano (1826-1827), and in these he published
many of his most important works. Here appeared his
studies of Old French and of the Song of My Cid, his ex-
cellent translation of fourteen cantos of Boiardo’s Orlando
innamorato, several important articles on Spanish syntax
and prosody, and the best of all his: poems, the Silvas
Americanas.

In 1829, when already forty-eight years of age, Bello
removed to Chile, and there entered upon the happiest
period of his life. Besides working in a government office,
he gave private lessons until in 1831 he was made rector
of the College of Santiago. In the year 1843 the University
SoME SPANISH-AMERICAN POBsTS. 227

of Chile was established at Santiago, and Bello became its
first rector. He held this important post till his death
twenty-two years later at the ripe age of eighty-four.
During this third and last period of his life Bello com-
pleted and published his Spanish Grammar and his Prin-
ciples of International Law, works which, with occasional
slight revisions, have been used as standard text-books in
Spanish America, and to some extent in Spain, to the
present day. The Grammar, especially, has been extra-
ordinarily successful, and the edition with notes by José
Rufino Cuervo is still the best text-book of Spanish gram-
mar we have. In the Grammar Bello sought to free Cas-
tilian from Latin terminology; but he desired, most of all,
to correct the abuses so common to writers of the period,
and to establish linguistic unity in Spanish America.

Bello wrote little original verse during these last years
of his life. At one time he became very fond of Victor
Hugo and even tried to imitate him; but his classical
training and methodical habits made success difficult.
His best poetic work during his residence in Chile, however,
are translations of Victor Hugo, and his free metrical ren-
dering of La Priére pour Tous (from the Feuilles d’Au-
tomne), is amongst his finest and most popular verses.

It is interesting that Don Andrés Bello, a distinguished
scholar in linguistics and in international law, should also
have been a pre-eminent poet. All critics, except possibly
a few of the present-day ‘‘modernistas,” place his American
Silvas amongst the best poetic compositions of all Spanish
America. The Silvas are two in number: the Allocution
to Poetry (Alocucién a la Poesia), and the Silva to the Agri-
culture of the Torrid Zone (Silva a la Agricultura de la Zona
Torrida). The first is fragmentary: apparently the poet
despaired of completing it, and he embodied in the second
poem an elaboration of those passages of the first work
which describe nature in the tropics. The Silvas are in
some degree imitations of Virgil’s Georgics, and they are
the best of Spanish imitations. The great literary critic,
Menéndez y Pelayo, was willing to admit (Antologia de
228 CoLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION.

Poetas hisp.-am., IJ, p. CXLII) that Bello is, “in de-
scriptive and georgic verse, the most Virgilian of our
(Spanish) poets.” Caro, in his splendid biography of
Bello (in Miguel Antonio Caro’s introduction to the Poesias
de Andrés Bello, Madrid, 1882) classifies the Silvas as
“scientific poetry,” which is quite true if this sort of poetry
gives an esthetic conception of nature, expressed in beau-
tiful terms and adorned with descriptions of natural objects.
It is less true of the Allocution, which is largely historical,
in that it introduces and sings the praises of towns and
persons that won fame in the revolutionary wars. The
Silva to Agriculture, which is both descriptive and--moral,.
may be best described in the words of Caro. It is, says
this distinguished critic, ‘‘an account of the beauty and
wealth of nature in the tropics, and an exhortation to those
who, live in the equator that, instead of wasting their
strength in political and domestic dissensions, they should
devote themselves to agricultural pursuits.” Bello’s in-
terest in nature had doubtless been stimulated by the
coming of Humboldt to Caracas in the first decade of the
nineteenth century. In his attempt to express his feeling
for nature in poetic terms, he probably felt the influence
not only of Virgil, but also of Arriaza’s Emilia or the Arts
and of the several poems descriptive of nature written in
Latin by Jesuit priests, such as the once famous Rusticatio
Mexicana by Father Landivar of Guatemala. And yet
there is very little in the Silvas that is directly imitative.
The Silva to the Agriculture of the Torrid Zone, especially,
is an extraordinarily successful attempt to give expression
in Virgilian terms to the exotic life of the tropics, and in
this it is- unique in Spanish literature. The beautiful
descriptive passages in this poem, the noble ethical pre-
cepts, and the severely. pure diction, combine to make it
a classic that will long hold an honored place in Spanish
letters.

Although the poetry of Ecuador is of relatively little
importance as compared with that of several other Ameri-
can countries, yet Ecuador gave to the world one of the
SomE SpanisH-AMERICAN PoETs. 229

greatest of American poets. Don José Joaquin de Olmedo
(1780-1847) was born in Guayaquil when that city still
formed part of the Viceroyalty of Peru. Consequently
two countries claim him,—Peru, because he was born a
Peruvian and because, furthermore, he received his edu-
cation at San Marcos University in Lima; and Ecuador,
since Guayaquil became permanently a part of that re-
public, and Olmedo identified himself with its social and
political life. Olmedo ranks as one of the great poetic
artists of Spanish literature at the beginning of the nine-
teenth century. He is of the same neo-classic school as
Quintana, and like him devoted to_artistic excellence and
lyric grandiloquence. Olmedo’s serious poems are thor-
oughly imbued with the Graeco-Latin classical spirit. His
‘prosody nears perfection; but it is marred by an occasional
abuse of verbal endings in rime, and the inadvertent em-
ployment of assonance where there should be none, faults
common to many of the earlier Spanish-American poets.
His greatest poem is The Victory of Junin (La Victoria de
Junin), which is filled with sweet-sounding phrases and
beautiful images, but is, logically, inconsistent and im-
probable. Even Bolfvar the Liberator, to whom the poem
is addressed, censured Olmedo in a letter for using the
machina of the appearance at night, before the combined
Colombian and Peruvian armies, of Huaina-Capac the
Inca, “showing himself to be a talkative mischief-maker
where he should have been lighter than ether, since he
comes from heaven,” and, instead of desiring the restora-
tion of the Inca dynasty, preferring ‘‘strange intruders who,
though avengers of his blood, are descendents of those who
destroyed his empire.” The Song to General Flores (Canto
al General Flores) is considered by some critics to be the
poet’s most finished work, though of less substance and
inspiration than The Victory of Junin. This General
Flores was a successful revolutionary leader during the
early days of the republic, and he was later as bitterly
assailed by Olmedo as he is here praised. Of a different
type is the philosophic poem, To a Friend upon the Birth
230 CoLoRaDO CoLLEGE PUBLICATION.

of His First Child (A un Amigo en el Nacimiento de su
Primogénito), which is filled with sincere sympathy and
deep meditation on the future. With the coming of middle
age Olmedo’s poetic vein had apparently been exhausted,
and the Peruvian poet Felipe Pardo addressed to him an
ode in which he sought, though to no avail, to stimulate
the older bard to renewed activity. Olmedo, as a poetic
genius, loomed suddenly upon the horizon of Guayaquil,
and after his departure, there was for years no one to take
his place. In politics Olmedo was as prominent as he was
in letters. A jurist of note, he was sent by his native city
in 1810 to the Spanish Cortes at Cadiz, where he took an
important part in the deliberations of that. revolutionary
body. Soon after his return to America in 1816 he was
selected by Bolivar to represent Colombia at the Court of
Saint James, and in England he became a close friend of
Bello. After the secession of Ecuador from the earlier
Colombia, Olmedo was honored from time to time with
high political offices. The best edition of Olmedo’s Poestas
is that of Garnier Fréres, Paris, 1896, with notes and a
biographical article by Clemente Ballén.

The Cuban poet, Don José. Maria Heredia (1803-1839),
is better known in Europe and in the United States than
either Bello or Olmedo, since his poems are more universal
in their appeal. He is especially well known in the United
States,-where he lived in exile for over two years (1823-
1825), at first’ in Boston and later in New York. Although
Heredia died

“Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita,”

his brief pilgrimage through life was crowded with varied
experiences. Born in Cuba, he studied in Santo Domingo,
and in Caracas (1812-1817), as well as in his native island.
Accused of conspiracy against the Spanish government, he
fled to the United States in 1823, and there eked out a pre-
carious existence by giving private lessons. In 1825 he
went to Mexico, where he was well received, and where he
held several important posts, including those of member of
Congress and judge of the superior court. In Heredia’s
SOME SPANISH-AMERICAN POETS. 231

biography two facts should be stressed: that he studied
for five years in Caracas, the city that produced Bolivar
and Bello, respectively the greatest general and the great-
est scholar of Spanish America; and that he spent only
twelve years, all told, in Cuba. As he lived for fourteen
years in Mexico, that country also claims him as her own,
while Caracas points to him with pride as another child
of her older educational system.

Heredia was most unhappy in the United States. He
admired the political institutions of this country; but he
disliked the climate, and he despaired of learning English.
In one of his patriotic hymns, To Emilia, he says:

“The furious north-wind roars,
And borne upon its wings the stinging ice
Swoops down upon us and devours the earth.
A fog doth veil the splendor of the sun,
And hides from us the sky
Which on the dim horizon is confused
With the gray sea. The naked trees are scourged
By wintry blasts, and toss and groan in pain.
No living thing is seen amid the fields
Where desolation reigns and solitude. , .
Oh, shall my suffering eyes ne’er see again
The gently swaying leaves of graceful palms
As they glow golden in the western light?
Shall I not mock the glare of midday sun
’Neath the banana’s loudly rustling leaves,
While gentle breezes fan my heated face?

With regard to the English language, he adds:

Instead of thy sweet speech, I hear, alas!
The strange, harsh sounds of a barbaric tongue.

And in one of his letters to a friend in Cuba he says: “I
do not understand how so great a people has come to use
so execrable a jargon.’”’ Some of the North-American cus-
toms also seemed strange to him, as when he wrote: ‘Here
one may kill a man with his fists without fear of punish-
ment; but they hang without fail one who attacks another
with a pointed knife. Thus it is that here table knives
have rounded ends so as to avoid trouble.”

Let me add by way of digression that Heredia, who was
a cousin of the French sonnetist of the same name, was not
232 CoLORADO COLLEGE PUBLICATION,

the only Cuban poet to suffer persecution. Of the seven
leading Cuban poets, often spoken of as ‘‘the Cuban Pleiad,”’
Avellaneda removed to Spain where she married and spent
her life in tranquillity; and Joaquin Luaces avoided trouble
by living in retirement and veiling his patriotic songs with
mythological names. On the other hand, José Jacinto:
Milanés lost his reason at the early age of thirty years,
José Marfa Heredia and Rafael Mendive fled the country
and lived in exile; while Gabriel Valdés and Juan Clemente
Zenea were shot by order of the governor-general. Truly,
in Cuba, the wages of poetry is death!

Heredia, unlike Bello and Olmedo, was not a classic
scholar. His acquaintance with the Latin poets was
limited and seldom does a Virgilian or Horatian. expression
occur in his verses. Though, strictly speaking, not a
romantic poet, he was a close precursor of that movement.
His language is not seldom incorrect or lacking in sobriety
and restraint; but his numbers are musical and his thought
springs directly from imaginative exaltation. Heredia’s
poorest verses are doubtless his early love-songs: his best
are those in which the contemplation of nature leads. the
poet to meditation on human existence, as in Ntagara,
The Temple-Pyramid of Cholula (El Teocalli de Cholula),
In a Tempest (En una Tempestad), and To the Sun (Al
Sol). In these poems the predominant note is that of. gentle
_melancholy. In Cuba his best known verses are the two
patriotic hymns, To Emilia, and The’ Hymn of an Exile
(Himno del Desterrado). These were written before the
poet was disillusioned by his later experiences in the tur-
bulent Mexico of the second and third decades of the nine-
teenth century, and they are so virulent in their expression
of hatred of Spain that Menéndez y Pelayo refused to
include them in his Anthology. Heredia undertook to write
several plays, but without success. Some translations of
dramatic works, however, were well received, and especially
those of Ducis’s Abufar, Voltaire’s Mahomet, and Alfieri’s Saul.
The Garnier edition (Paris, 1893) of Heredia’s Poestas contains
an interesting introduction by the literary critic, Elfas Zerolo.
Some SpanisH-AMERICAN Posts. 233

That great extent of fertile plains and lofty mountains,
which is now called Argentina, was of comparatively little
importance in the literary history of the Spanish colonies,
as compared with the populous and cultivated vice-royal-
ties of Mexico and Peru. Argentina was actually governed
from Lima, Peru, till 1778 when the new vice-royalty of
Buenos Aires was established. And yet today it is the rival
of Chile for the hegemony of the Spanish-American states,
and Buenos Aires is the largest and wealthiest Spanish-
speaking city in the world.

Don Olegario Victor Andrade (1838-1882) is generally
recognized as one of the foremost poets of America (his
Obras Poéticas were published by the Argentine govern-
ment,—Buenos Aires, 1887). In art, Andrade was a dis-
ciple of Victor Hugo; in philosophy, he was a believer in
modern progress and freedom of thought. His verses have
inspiration and enthusiasm; but they are too often marred
of speech. Atldntida, a hymn to the future of the Latin
race in America, and Prometeo, an ode to the emancipation
of human thought, are the poet’s noblest works. The
following translation of a few stanzas of Atldntzda will give
some idea of its content:

The passing centuries the secret kept.
But Plato saw it dimly when beside
The Aegean sea, he gazed upon the shadows
Falling softly on Hymettus’ peak,
And spake mysterious words with restless waves
That groaned beneath his feet. He knew the name
Of this last child of Time, destined to be
The Future’s bride, where dwells eternal spring;
And called it fair Atlantis.
But God thought best to give the mighty task
To Latin men, the race that tamed the world,
And fought its greatest battles.

And when the hour was struck, Columbus came
Upon a ship that bore the fate of Man,
And westward made his way.
The wild tumultuous Ocean hurled against
The tiny Latin ship the black north wind,
While whirlwinds roaring fiercely rode astride
The lightning’s blood-red steed.
Forward the vessel moved, and broke the seal
Of Mystery; and fair Atlantis woke
At last, to find her in a dreamer’s arms!
234

CoLoRaDo COLLEGE PUBLICATION.

Often the victor over thrones and crowns,
The restless spirit of the ancient race
Had found fulfilment of its noblest dream,—
Abundant space and light in distant zones!
With armor newly forged, nor dragging now
The blood-stained winding-sheet of a dead past,
Nor weighted down by blackest memories,
Once more it ventured forth in eager quest
Of liberty and glory.

Before it lay a vast, unconquered world.
Here, resting on the sea, neath tropic skies,
And bathed in the white light of rising dawn,
The Antilles lift their heads, like scattered birds
That utter plaintive cries,

And dry their snowy wings that they may fly
To other, distant shores.

>

Here rises Mexico above two seas,
A granite tower that even yet would seem
To spy the Spanish.fleet as it draws near
Across the Aztec gulf;
And over there Colombia, lulled to sleep
By the deep roar of Tequendama’s fall,
Within its bosom hides unfailing wealth.

Hail, happy zone! Oh fair, enchanted land,
Belovéd child of the creative sun
And teeming home of animated life,
The birth-place of the great Bolivar,—hail!
In thee, Venezuela, all is great:
The flashing stars that light thee from above;
Thy genius and thy noble heroism,
Which with voleanic force and deafening crash
Burst forth on San Mateo’s lofty peak!

Outstretched below the Andes’ mighty chain,
Like one who weeps above an open grave,
The Incas’ Rome doth lie.
Its sword was broken in the bloody strife,
And in obscurity its face was sunk.
But still Peru doth live!
For in a virile race
Defeat doth spell a new, a nobler life.
And when propitious toil, which heals all wounds,
Shall come to thee at last,
And when the sun of justice shines again
After long days of weeping and of shame,
The ripening grain shall paint with flowers of gold
The crimson cloak that o’er thy shoulder floats.

Bolivia, namesake of the giant* born
At Mount Avila’s foot,
Hath kept his lively wit and valiant heart,

‘With which to face the storm and stress of life.

*General Bolivar.
Somer SpanisH-AMERICAN Posts. 235

It dreams of war today; but also dreams

Of greater things, when ’stead of useless guns,
The engines made of steel

Shall boldly bridge the vales and scale the hills.

And Chile, strong in war and strong in toil,
Hangs its avenging arms upon the wall,
Convinced that victory by brutal strength
Is vain and empty if it be not right.

And Uruguay, although too fond of strife,

The sweet caress of progress ever seeks;
Brazilt, which feels the Atlantic’s noisy kiss,
With greater freedom were a greater state;

And now the blesséd land,

The bride of glory, which the Plata bathes

And which the Andean range alone doth bound!

Let all arise, for ’tis our native land,
Our own, our native land, which ever sought
Sublime ideals. Our youthful race was lulled
E’en in the cradle by immortal hymns,
And now it calls, to share its opulence,
All those who worship sacred liberty,
The fair handmaid of science, progress, art.
Our country turns its back on savage war,
And casts away the fratricidal sword,
That it may bind upon its haughty brow
A wreath of yellow wheat, .
Lighter to wear than any golden crown.
The sun of ultimate redemption shines
On our belovéd land, which strides ahead
To meet the future, and with noble mien
Offers the Plata’s overflowing cup
To all the hungry nations.

With the appearance in 1888 of a small volume of prose
and verse entitled Azul, by Don Rubén Darfo (1864-) of
Nicaragua, came the triumph of the “‘movement of eman-
cipation,”’ the “literary revolution,’’ which the ‘‘decadents”’
had already initiated in France, and in its train there came
inevitably a general attack on poetic traditions. This
movement was hailed with joy by the young men of Latin
America, who are by nature more emotional and who live
in a more voluptuous environment than their cousins in
Spain; for they had come to chafe at the coldness of contem-
porary Spanish poetry, at its lack of color and its ‘‘petri-
fied metrical forms.’’ With the success of the movement
there was for a time a reign of license, when poet vied with

+These lines were written before Brazil became a republic.
236 Cotorapo CoLLEGE PUBLICATION.

poet in defying the time-honored rules, not only of versi-
fication, but also of vocabulary and syntax. But as in
France, so in Spanish America, “‘decadence’’ has had its day,
though traces of its passing are everywhere in evidence,
and the best that was in it still lingers.

When reproached by the Spaniards for their imitation
of French models, the Spanish Americans make this reply:
‘‘We imitated your neo-classicism and your romanticism, both
of which you borrowed from France: now we. prefer to
borrow directly.” In this connection it is interesting to
note that the decadent movement was felt later and to a
less degree in Spain, and some Spanish-American writers
even hold that it came to Spain from America. These
writers also tell us modestly that their form of Castilian
(which they call neo-espafiol) is more expressive and ornate
than that which is still spoken on the arid plains of the two
Castiles, and that their bards are superior in number and
in quality to those of Spain.

Today their poets are turning their attention more and
more to the study of sociological problems or to the cement-
ing of racial solidarity. These notes ring clear in some
recent poems of Dario, and of Don José 8. Chocano of Peru,
and Don Rufino Blanco-Fombona of Venezuela. The fol-
lowing lines are a translation of an ode by Dario, which
was addressed to Mr. Roosevelt when he was still president
of this country. The meter of the poem is mainly the Old
Spanish Alexandrine, but with a curious intermingling of
shorter lines. In all fairness it should be stated here that
Sefior Darfo, in a recent letter to the writer of this article,
has said: “I do not think today as I did when I wrote
those verses.”

Tis only with the bible or with Walt Whitman’s verse,
That you, the mighty hunter, are reached by other men.
You're primitive and modern, you’re simple and complex,—
A veritable Nimrod with aught of Washington.

You are the United States;

You are the future foe

Of free America that keeps it Indian blood,

That prays to Jesus Christ, and speaks in Spanish still.
Some SpanisH-AMERICAN Ports. 237

You are a fine example of a strong and haughty race;

You're learnéd and you're clever; to Tolstoy you're
opposed ;

And whether taming horses or slaying savage beasts,

‘You seem an Alexander and Nabuchadnezzar too.

(As madmen today are wont to say,

You're a great professor of energy).

You seem to be persuaded

That life is but combustion,

That progress is eruption,

And where you send the bullet

You bring the future.

No.

The United States are rich, they’re powerful and great
(They join the cult of Mammon to that of Hercules),
And when they stir and roar, the very Andes shake.

But our America, which since the ancient times . .

Has had its native poets; which lives on fire and light,

On perfumes and on love; our vast America,

The land of Montezuma, the Inca’s mighty realm,

Of Christopher Columbus the fair America,

America the Spanish, the Roman Catholic,

Oh men of Saxon eyes and fierce, barbaric soul,

This land still lives and dreams, and loves and stirs!
Take care!

The daughter of the Sun, the Spanish land, doth live!

And from the Spanish lion a thousand whelps have sprung!

’Tis need, Oh Roosevelt, that you be God himself

Before you hold us fast in your grasping, iron claws.

And though you count on all, one thing is lacking: God!

Evigan CLARENCE HIuts.
Page
Missing
In Printing —
Page
Missing
in Printing
THE SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE.

When my daughter, Ruth Hills, completed her second year I
undertook to study her speech, and this article embodies the
results of my observations. I began on the second anniversary of
her birthday, and continued the observations for a period of ten
days. Only words that I heard her use during those ten days are
given in this article. Some objects were pointed out, and she was
asked to tell their names, but in no case was a name given to her
during this period. All of the words she used had been acquired
by her without effort on our part, with the exception of the car-
dinal numerals from ‘one’ to ‘ten’ and the names of common
colors, which we had taught her.

At the second anniversary of her birthday, February 2, 1906,
Ruth’s height was 334 inches, and her weight was 28 pounds.
She lived in Colorado Springs, Colorado. She walked when ten
months old. She had three brothers, Justin, George and Clar-
ence, older than herself by only a few years, and a cousin, Mary
Hills, with whom she played. When eight months of age she
used the following words, which I noted at the time: be (bread),
bo (boy or boys), bye-bye, Dit (Justin), mamma and baba (papa).

I do not consider Ruth a precocious child: I believe her speech
to have been about what one might expect of an active and intel-
ligent child two years old who played with older children. Her
vocabulary was similar to that of her playmates, but her pronun-
ciation differed in a marked degree.

During the period under observation Ruth used 321 words,
which may be classified as follows: proper nouns, 9; common:
nouns, 173; personal pronouns, 4; limiting adjectives, 26; descrip-
tive adjectives, 23; verbs, 59; adverbs, 11; conjunction, 1;
prepositions, 8; exclamations, 7. The words were as follows:

Prorrer Nouns: Clarence, George, Harold, Hodgetts, Justin,
Mary, Ruth, Santa Claus, Woodsmall.

Common Novns: apple, baby, back, ball, bath, bear, bed, belt,
bib, ‘bing’ (drink of water}, bird, biscuit, block, blood, body,
bottle, boy, book, bow, ‘‘ bow-wow,” box, bread, broom, brush,
bug, ‘boogy’ (dried mucus in nose), butter, button, cake, candle,

EM
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 85

candy, cap, car, cellar, chain, chalk, chamber (chamber-pot), cheek,
chicken, ‘‘ choo-choo ” (toy train of cars), cloth, coat, cocoa, coffee,
comb, cover, cow, cracker, cream, cup, ‘diggy’ (faeces), ‘‘ding-
dong” (bell), dinner (something to eat), dish, doggy, dolly,
dress, ear, egg, eye, face, finger, fire, fish, flour, flower, fly, foot,
fork, ‘‘gobble-gobble” (cry of turkey), grandma, gravy, hair,
hammer, hand, handkerchief, hat, head, hole, home, house, jelly,
kitchen, kitty, knife, lap, leg, lemon, letter (of alphabet), light,
‘‘machine” (sewing-machine), mamma, man, meat, medicine,
‘*mee-ow ” (call of cat), milk, mitten, mother, ‘‘moo” (call of
cow), ‘‘moo-cow ” (cow), moon, mouse, mouth, nail, nap, napkin,
neck, nickel, ‘‘nighty” (night-gown), nose, nuisance, nut, orange,
pail, ‘‘pants,” papa, paper, parlor, party, peak (Pike’s Peak),
‘“pee-pee-pee ” (call of mouse), pen, penny, ‘‘ phone” (telephone),
piano, picture, pie, pillow, pin, plate, pocket, potato, pudding,
ring, room, ‘‘rubber” (rubber overshoes), salt, sauce, shoe,
sleeve, slipper, smoke, soup, spool, spoon, stick, stocking, stom-
ach, stone, stove, strap, street-car, sugar, table, tent, thing,
‘“*tick-tock” (clock or watch, or sound of clock or watch),
“‘ticky ” (from ‘‘tickle”: bare body), toast, tooth, top, towel,
town (in ‘‘down town”), toy, train, tricycle, trunk, tub, turkey,
wagon, watch, water (rare).

It is to be noted that, in the list of common nouns given above,
the three largest categories are those of foodstuffs (28 names),
articles of wearing apparel (20), and parts of the body (18), as
follows:

Foodstuffs: apple, biscuit, bread, butter, cake, candy, cracker,
cocoa, coffee, cream, egg, fish, gravy, jelly, lemon, meat, milk,
nut, orange, pie, potato, pudding, salt, sauce, soup, sugar, toast,
water. Wearing apparel: belt, bib, bow, button, cap, cloth,
coat, dress, handkerchief, hat, mitten, night-gown, ‘‘ pants,”
pocket, ring, rubber overshoes, shoe, sleeve, slipper, stocking.
Parts of the body: back, blood, cheek, ear, eye, face, finger, foot,
hair, hand, head, leg, mouth, neck, nose, stomach, ‘‘ticky”,
tooth. Other interesting categories are those of animals (11),
table objects (8), and playthings (8). Animals: bear, bird, bug,
cat, chicken, cow, dog, fish, fly, mouse, turkey. Table objects:
bottle, cup, dish, fork, knife, napkin, plate, spoon. Playthings:
ball, block, ‘‘choo-choo”, doll, pail, top, tricycle, wagon.
86 DIALECT NOTES.

Prrsonat Pronouns: me (I, me), you, it, them (they, them).

Limitine Apsrcrives: Articles,—the, a; Pronominal Adjec-
tives: Possessives,—my, mine; our; Demonstratives,—this, that;
Indefinites,—all, another, any (not any, none), both, enough,
many, more, own, some; Numerals,—one, two, three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine, ten; first.

DezscriptiveE ADJEcTIvEs: bad, big, black, brown, clean, cold,
dark, dirty, funny, good, green, high, hot, nasty, naughty, new,
nice, pretty, red, sick, tired, white, yellow. It is to be noted
that six of these adjectives are names of colors.

Verss: ‘‘ain’t”, belong, bite, break, buy, carry, come,
couldn’t, cry, cut, do, ‘‘done” (to go to stool), drop, eat, excuse,
fall, find, fix, fly, give, go, ‘‘got” (have), hang, have, help, hit,
hurt, jump, kiss, lie (lie down), make, open, play, please, put,
read, ride, say, see, sew, shut, sing, sleep, spank, spill, stand,
step, stop, swing, take, tell, thank, ‘‘ticky”’ (scratch, tickle), tie,
turn, wait, want, wash, write.

ADVERBS: away, back, down, here, no (no, not), now, outdoors,
there, today, tomorrow, too.

ConsunctTion: and, ‘

Prepositions: by, in, off, on, out, over, under, up.

Exciamations: all right, ‘‘ bye-bye,” ‘‘ hello,” oh, oh dear,
‘‘ow” (to express pain), ‘‘ uh-huh” (yes).

PHono.Loey.

During the period under observation, Ruth’s imitation of the
vowels she heard was nearly perfect; but she did not pronounce
well, or she did not sound at all, a considerable proportion of the
consonants, which is interesting as proof of the relatively greater
difficulty of the consonants for a small child that is struggling to
acquire a full repertory of English sounds.

VOWELS.
All were normal, except:

In ar the r was silent, and a sounded asin father: ta (car), pati (party).

In ur the r was silent, and the vowel lay somewhere between é and ai.
Thus, I could not decide whether her pronunciation of turkey approxi-
mated more nearly to tatki or téki. I have used é to indicate this sound :
tén (turn), déti (dirty).
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 87

Vocalic 1 and r were sounded asa: tébe (table), mede (mother), She said
pot for put, fani for foni, and pudi or puli for pillow.

CONSONANTS.

g. Initial > d: dé (go), dud (good).

Medial and final=g: egi (wagon), dogi (‘‘ doggy”), big (big). Ini mi, or
di mi (give me), Ruth hesitated between the 7 of older formation and the
more recent di.

k. Initial > ¢: ték (cake), ti (key) In Dan (Clarence), formed at an earlier
date and kept unchanged, k > d. See also bedn (button) and beda (but-
ter), under t.
Medial and final =k: t6ké (cocoa), poki (pocket), ‘baek (back), ik (sick).
Silent after ng: tey (trunk), bey (spank).
d=d: dia (dear), di (do); bodi (body), be or bad (bad), be or bed (bed).
Formerly Ruth had not sounded final d, and at this time she still hesi-
tated between be and bed, etc.
Silent after n: fain (find), hen (hand).
t=t: ta (two), tén (train); ete (letter); bait (bite).

Silent after n: ten (tent).

Note also ben or bedn (button), beba or bede (butter), and dap (strap).
After the period under observation these words became normal, so that
the successive forms were: ben > bedn > bekn > betn; bebe > beda>
betr ; dep > tep > stwep > strep. Why bedn (button) became bekn, I
do not know, but it had this sound when Ruth was five years old.

In té or t6t (toast), she still hesitated between the two forms.

b =b: bfim (broom); bébi (baby); bib (bib).
Pp =p: pin (pin); pape (papa); top (top).

Note also been (‘‘ pants”), beey (spank), where p > 6. This was not uncom-
mon in her earlier speech.

h =h: hen (hand), hau (house). Formeriy h was silent, and at this time she
still hesitated in some words, as et or het (hat).

y silent: el6 (yellow), fi (you).

th voiced > d: det (that), mede (mother), In nebe or nedo (another), she
still hesitated between the newer and the older form.

th surd > f: fi (three); béf (both). In wy fi (thank you) the th was silent, and
in iy or fig (thing), and in mau or mauf (mouth), she still hesitated
between the newer and older forms.

zh, non-existent.

sh. Initial, silent: & (shoe), et (shut).

Final, beginning to be sounded : di or dif (dish), wo or wof (wash).

j> d: Dodi (Georgie), Dada (Justin), dedi (jelly).

j was silent in emp (jump). In Odi or Odyi (Hodgetts), the newer sound
approached j.

ch > t: tok (chalk), tik (cheek).

Final ch was silent in wo (watch). In titi or tityi (kitchen) the newer pro-

nunciation approached ch.
88 DIALECT NOTES.

Z Final, silent: né (nose), pf (please).

ta (excuse) is formed regularly according to Ruth’s manner of speech,
except for the loss of the initial vowel.

s. Initial and medial, silent: (see), em (some), tén (stone), pfin (spoon), tp
(sleep); nfin (nuisance).

Final, usually silent : hau (house), bok (box), biki (biscuit) ; but beginning
to be heard as sh in di or dif (this), de or def (dress), and others.

v. Medial, usually > 6: dbe (over), tebe (cover); but beginning to be normal
in some words, as in dévi (gravy).

Final = v: fv (sleeve), tév (stove). Silent in i (give), of older formation.

f—/: fain (find), foe (floor); naif (knife), of (off).

Silent in aue (flower), which was acquired before she learned to make f,
and was retained without change.

w. Usually silent: agi (wagon), dt (wait), ait (white); but sounded in wo
(wash or watch) and wo (want). Note also fiy (swing).

ng = ng: diy-doy (‘ ding-dong”), in (sing). But silent in toki (stocking).

Nn=n: nep (nap); eni (any); men (man).

mi =m: men (man); fim (room).

1. Initial and after initial consonant, silent: ai (lie), bak (black), tin (clean),
fai (fly), pé (play). ;

Medial, hesitating between d andl: dedi (jelly), hedé (‘‘ hello”), pade
(parlor), dodi or doli (dolly), elo (cellar), el6 (yellow). The earlier pro-
nunciation was d.

Before a consonant and final after a consonant, usually > 0: beat (belt),
zope (apple); but silent after o: ot (salt).

Final after a vowel, it was beginning to be audible: péa or pél (pail), pfia
or piil (spool); except after 0: fa (fall).

r Initial or after initial consonant, silent: id (read), fm (room), din (green),
tim (cream), dop (drop), tén (train), bék (break), piti (pretty), fi (three).

Medial, usually silent: din (orange), Den (Clarence), Méi (Mary); but
sounded as y in Heye (Harold).

Before a consonant, or final after a vowel, silent: fok (fork), t& (car).

Final, after a consonant, > @ : mede (mother).

It is noteworthy that only the following consonants were found
in Ruth’s repertory of sounds:
Initial: d (=, d, j, voiced th), t (=k, t, ch), b, p, h, f (=f, surd th), w (some-
times), n. m.
Medial: g, k, d (=d, j, voiced th), t(=t, ch), b, p, v, f (=f, surd th), n, m, Ll.
Final: g, k, d, t, 6, p, f (sometimes), v, f (=y, surd th), 7, n, m,-I.

The limited range of initial consonants is important. Only
nine were used: the stops, d, ¢, 6, p; the spirants, h, f, w, and
the nasals, n, m. The range of medial and final consonants
was somewhat larger. Thus, g and & were used in medial and
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 89

final positions, but became @ and ¢ respectively when initial.
Medial J hesitated between d and Z (see above), and final 7 was
just beginning to be audible. Initial / was always silent, but final
J and s were both beginning to appear as f. There was no 7 in
Ruth’s repertory of sounds.

It is also interesting to note what an important part the bila-
bials 6, p and m, and especially voiced 6 and m, played in the
child’s earliest speech. At first she said mama, baba, papa, indis-
criminately, to denote any one who attended to her needs, and
only little by little did she learn to distinguish mama from baba
or papa. At eight months of age she used six words, of which
four had only the consonant b, one had m, and another had d: be
(bread), bo (boy), baibai (‘‘bye-bye”), bibaé (papa), mama
(mamma), and De (Justin). As her vocabulary grew, she used b
for p or v in some words, and she put it into other words where
it had no place; thus, ben (“pants”), bien (spank), ca (over),
teba (cover); bin (drink), beba (brother or ‘putter);

Next to assume importance in her speech were the ale d, t,
n, and especially voiced d and. Some of the earliest words to
appear in her speech were Dz, which later became Dado (Justin),
Den (Clarence), nini (dinner), neni (candy), nfin (nuisance).

The initial spirants A, f, and w appeared only toward the end
of the second year.

We have seen that voiced ¢i became d@ in Ruth’s speech, but
surd th became /f instead of ¢, as in do (the), det (that), and fin
(thing), fi (three). This is generally true of English-speaking
children, I believe, and it is also true of the Negroes in our south-
ern States. In other words, English surd ¢h seems to our babies,
and seemed to the Africans, to resemble f more nearly than ¢.
And yet, in New York and in Boston, I have heard children on the
streets say not only do (the), dat (that), etc., but also tré (throw)
tri (three), ete. I wonder if, in their pronunciation of English
surd th, they have been influenced by other European languages.

Although during the period under observation most of Ruth’s
words were formed according to definite phonetic laws, she still
kept unchanged a considerable number of her earliest ‘baby
words,” such as bin (drink), Den (Clarence), ip (slipper), neni
(candy), nini (dinner), 6p (open), auo (flower), td (toast), and
others.
90 DIALECT NOTES.

Finally it may be well to mention that of the 321 words used
by Ruth, 228 were of one syllable. The remaining 93 words may
be divided as follows: 76 of two syllables (42 ending in -i, as piti
[pretty]; 30 ending in -o, as mede [mother]; and 4 ending other-
wise); one of four syllables, ptendeno (piano) ; and 16 compounds,
such as ti-ta (street-car) and dobo-doba (‘‘ gobble-gobble”). I
have classified such words as bee (bear) and Méi (Mary) as mono-
syllables.

MorruoLtocy anp SynvTax.

Nouns and pronouns had no genitive or plural forms, with the
exception of fut (foot) and taf (tooth), which had the plurals fit
and tif. Ruth did very well without inflectional s to express pos-
session or plurality; thus, pape pfin, ‘ papa’s spoon’; tf bébi ep
Méi ‘there are two babies up at Mary’s’, etc. Although she
could count up to ten, I never heard her use any other cardinal
numeral than ‘two’ in her speech.

The only verbs to have inflected forms were:
én (‘‘aint”) generally used with né: né én (am not, ‘is not’, etc.).
bék (break); bOk (broken), in 0 bék (it is all broken).
dé (go); don (gone), in o don (it is all gone), generally referring to food.
aa (do): dén (don’t); did (did); den (done), in o den (I am all done).
fo (fall); feo (fell); fon (falling).
fain (find); faun (found).
haeb or haeboa (have), used imperatively, as in mi hebe dif (let me have this).

As present indicative dot (got) was used, as in mi dot #m (I have some).
it (eat); ét (ate).
pi (spill); pid (spilled), as in > pid (it is all spilled).
tai (cry); tain (crying).
tud (couldn’t).

Of these eleven verbs, nine have two or more forms and one
(df) has four forms. It should be noted that all but two of these
verbs are what we usually classify as ‘‘irregular.” Since study-
ing Ruth’s speech, I have not been surprised that irregular nouns
and verbs persist in our language, as the two nouns that had
plural forms in her speech, and nine of the eleven inflected verbs,
were irregular.

Most of Ruth’s past participles were used with 0 (all).

She used indicative and imperative sentences. In the indica-
tive sentences, the present tense (always without inflectional s),—
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 91

or perhaps it would be better to speak of this one form as the
verbal root,—was generally used to express present, past or future
time. There was no future tense, and, as we have seen, only a
very few irregular verbs had a past tense.

Indicative Sentences:

Present:
Beed pin tiki bébi, ‘ the bad pin is scratching the baby ’.
Papo tot heng ep deze, ‘ papa’s coat is hanging up there’.
Tik boy o mi agi, ‘the stick belongs on my wagon’.

Past:

Tud 6p déa, ‘I couldn’t open the door’.

Mi tud tén ait of, ‘I couldn’t turn the light off’.
Deen tep o mi fiygi, ‘ Clarence stepped on my finger’.
Méi aid on ike, ‘Mary rode on the tricycle’.

Deen 6t epa o ep, ‘Clarence ate the apple all up ’.
Bébi faun heygi, ‘baby found the handkerchief’.

Future:

+ Bed bea it mame 0 ep, ‘the bad bear will eat mamma all up’
Big dogi bait bébi, ‘the big doggy will bite the baby’.
Nau i, bébi 6p déa, ‘ now see, the baby will open the door’.

Not seldom, no verb was expressed:
Present:

Aeo ti big buk éba dea, ‘ there are two big books over there ie
Meni taue ep dea, ‘there are many towels up there’.

Eni papa bébi, ‘I am not papa’s baby’.

Aes moo neba big dogi, ‘ there is another big dog’.

Mi eni miek, ‘I havn’t any milk’.

Main 6n bed, ‘it is my own bed’.

Méi au deo, ‘ Mary is out there’.

Past:

Bébi daun-taun dé, ‘the baby was down-town today’.
Bed Dade eni mi in, ‘bad Justin wouldn’t let me in’.

Imperative Sentences:

Mi dé, ‘let me go’.

Mi da et, ‘let me do it’.

Op dée, ‘ open the door’.

Mame tee bébi, ‘let mamma carry the baby ’.

Mi tem o mama bed, ‘let me come on mamma’s bed .
dé ip, ‘go to sleep’.
92 DIALECT NOTES.

vat ai, ‘ shut your eye’.

Teo Méi deet, ‘ tell Mary that’.

Heep bébi daun, ‘ help the baby down’.
Bebo heb et, ‘let brother have it’.

Without verb expressed:
Mi in, ‘let me in’.
Mi em det eg, ‘let me have some of that egg’.
Mt em pin, ‘let me have a spoon’.
» Mf bai papa, ‘let me be by papa’.
Méa nede, ‘let me have another’.

Iam inclined to believe that during the period under observa-
tion Ruth used ten imperative sentences to one indicative sen-
tence. I had not realized before the predominance of the impera-
tive in primitive speech. And she used not only verbs to express
command or request, but she freely used other parts of speech as

well.
VocaBUuLARY.
vegi, wagon.
Aen To, Santa Claus.
very, thank, asin ey @, thank you.
zep, lap.
zepo, apple.
vet, or heet, hat.
bee, or beed, bad.
beea, bear.
beef, bath.
beek, back.
beek, black.
been, ‘‘ pants.”
beer, spank.
be, or bed, bed.
be, or bed, bread.
beot, belt.
bébi, baby.

bék, break ; b6k (from ‘ broke’), broken, as in 9 b6k ‘all broken’.

bédi, ‘‘ birdie.”

bebo, or beda, brother.
bebo, or beda, butter.
bed, blood.

beg, bug.

ben, or bedn, button.
bef, brush.

bib, bib.

big, big.
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 93

biki, biscuit.

bin (from ‘ drink’), ‘drink of water’.

bo, ball.

bo, or boi, boy.

bodi, body (in meni bodi, ‘many people’).

bok, block.

bok, box.

bon, belong.

bota, bottle.

b6éf, both.

bon, bow (of ribbon in hair).

buk, book. |

bfigi, dried mucus in the nose.

bam, broom.

bai, buy.

bai, by.

bai-bai, ‘“ bye-bye.”

bait, bite,

baun, brown.

Dado, Justin.

dak, dark.

deedi, jelly.

dzea, or 2a, there.

dsemoa, grandma.

Deen, Clarence.

deep, strap.

dezet, that, as in mi vm det, ‘give me some of that’.

de, or des, dress.

dé, to-day.

dévi, gravy.

da, the (rare).

déti, dirty.

den (from ‘done’, used interrogatively by the nurse), ‘go to stool’ Also
see du.

di, or di/, dish.

di, or i, give.

di, or dif, this.

dig, dear, asin 6 dia, ‘oh dear’.

digi (from Justin’s baby pronunciation of ‘ dirty ’), faeces.

din-don, ‘ding-dong”, bell.

din, green.

do, doll (only in bébi do, baby’s doll).

dobo-dobsa, ‘ gobble-gobble.”

dodi, or doli, ‘‘dolly.”

Dodi, ‘‘ Georgie.”

dogi, ‘‘ doggy.”

don, gone.
94 DIALECT NOTES.

dop, drop.

dot (from ‘ got’) have, as in mi dot vm, ‘I have some’.

d6, go; don, gone,

dén, don’t.

dud, good.

da, do; did, did; den, done (in a dwn, ‘all done”).

daun, down; daun-taun, down-town.

ebn, seven.

ed, red.

eg, egg.

eg, leg.

elo, cellar.

e16, yellow.

em, they, them, as in em vp hai, ‘they are up high’.

emon, lemon.

eni, not any, none, not, as in mi eni miak, ‘I havn’t any milk’; ent mt tn,
‘he wouldn’t let me in’.

eta, letter (of the alphabet).

é, say.

é, way, asin é vp, ‘way up’.

é-6, or hedé, hello.

én, “aint.”

ét, eight.

ét, wait.

gmoni, or, moni (from ‘in the morning ’), to-morrow.

@, a (rare),

ebo (from ‘ rubber’), rubber overshoes.

we-hv, yes.

em, one.

em, some.

emp, jump.

eno, under.

ep, up.

et, it, asin i mi ot, ‘give me it’; mi heb vt, ‘let me have it’.

wet, shut.

fani, funny.

té, or f€6/, face.

fé ft, first.

fi, or fi f, fish.

fik, fix.

fin, swing.

fingi, finger.

fi, three.

fo, fall; feo, fell; fon, falling.

fok, fork.

fda, flour.

f6a, four.
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE. 95

f6n (from ‘ phone’), telephone.

fut, foot; fit, feet.

fai, fly (moun).

fai, fly (verb).

faio, fire.

fain, find; faun, found.

faiv, five.

heeb, or hheebo (from ‘have a’), have,—used imperatively, as in mt heb
ot, ‘let me have it’; mt heba vm, ‘let me have some.’

heega, hair.

hzemo, hammer.

heen, hand.

heen, hang.

heengi, handkerchief.

h&t, or cet, hat.

Heeyo, Harold.

hed, head. ©

hedé, or 6-6, hello.

hevp, help.

hét, burt.

hit, hit.

his, here.

hot, hot.

hdg, hole.

hém, home (in bek hém, ‘I want to go home’).

hai, high.

hau, house.

i, or di, give, as in (d)i mi vt, ‘ give me it’.

io, ear.

ik, sick.

ik, six.

ikea, tricycle.

in, or i in, ‘i mi né, ‘in my nose.’

inj, ring.

in, sing.

in, or fin, thing.

ip, slipper.

i, see.

id, read.

§m (from ‘ machine’), sewing machine.

ip, sleep.

it, eat; ét, ate.

m4Amo, mamma, woman.

meen, man.

medg, medicine.

meni, many.

Méi, Mary.
96 DIALECT NOTES.
mék, make. a 8
mvdo, mother.
miok, milk.
mito, mitten.

mi, or mi, I, me, my, as in mi in, ‘let me in’.
mi-au, ‘“‘mee-ow” (call of cat).
mit, meat.

mo, Woodsmall.

moni, or osmodni, to-morrow.
m69, more (usually in méa nevada, lit. ‘more another’).
md6k, smoke. :
mf, ‘‘moo” (call of cow).

mi-tau (from ‘‘ moo-cow’’), cow, horse, donkey.
man, moon.

main, mine, my.

mau, mouse.

mau, or mauf, mouth.

n (vocalic), and.

neeni, candy.

np, vap.

nezep, napkin.

neeti, nasty.

nek, neck.

néa, nail.

nebo, nvdo, another.

nef, enough.

net, nut.

niko, nickel.

nini (from ‘dinner’), something to eat.
noti, naughty.

no, no, not (nd én, ‘am not’, ‘is not’, etc.).
no, nose.

na, new.

nian, nuisance.

nai, or nai/, nice.

naif, knife.

nain, nine.

naiti, “ nighty,” night-gown.

nau, now

2d, sauce,

9, all.

d-ait, all right.

ot, salt.

ote, water (rare: see bin).

Odi, or Odyi, Hodgetts.

of, off.

On, on.

!
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE.

6, ob (in 6 dia, ‘ oh dear?’).
6, sew.

Oba, over.

6in, orange.

On, own (in main 6n bed, * my own bed’).

Op, open (in dp déa, ‘ open the door’).
pada, parlor.

paps, papa.

pati, party.

pen, pen.

peni, penny.

pé, play.

péa, or pél, pail.

pépo, paper.

pét, plate.

pet (not put), put.

piki, picture.

pis, or pil, spill; pid, spilled.
pin, pin.

piti, pretty.

pi, please.

pionveng, piano.

pik (‘peak’), Pike's Peak.

pi-pi-pi, ‘‘ pee-pee-pee” (cry of mouse).

poki, pocket.

pudi, or puli, pillow.
pudi, pudding.

pig, or pul, spool.
pain, spoon.

pai, pie.

ta, car.

tzeo, carry.

tee, chair.

teeo, stairs.

teeki, cracker.

teen, stand (in ten wp, ‘stand up’).
tzeno, candle.

teep, cap.

tea, or tel, tell.
ten, ten.

ten, tent.

tep, step (verb).

téba, table.

ték, cake.

ték, take. ;
témo (from ‘ chamber’), chamber-pot.
tén, chain.

9”
98 DIALECT NOTES.

tén, train.

tétd, potato.

téki, turkey.

tén, turn (in tén ait of, ‘turn the light off’),
teb, tub (in bef-tvbd, ‘ bath-tub’),
teba, or teva, cover.

tem, come.

temi, stomach.

ten, trunk.

tep, cup.

tet, cut.

tik, stick (noun).

tiki, chicken.

tiki (from ‘ tickle’), bare body (i mi tiki, ‘naked’); (verb) scratch, tickle.
ti, or tif, kiss.

titi, kitty.

titi, or tityi, kitchen.

ti, key.

tik, cheek.

tim, cream.

tin, clean.

ti-ta, street-car.

ti-tok (from ‘tick-tock’), clock or watch.
tiv, sleeve. |

tok, chalk.

tof, cloth.

tofi, coffee.

toi, toy.

toki, stocking.

top, top.

top, stop.

t6, or t6t, toast.

t6, or téd, cold.

t6k6, cocoa.

tém, comb.

ton, stone.

t6t, coat.

tiv, stove.

tud, couldn't.

ti, too (in bébi tt, ‘the baby too’).
tf, two.

ti, excuse (in t@ mi, ‘ excuse me’).
tAf, tooth; tif, teeth.

ta-t@, ‘‘choo-choo,” toy train of cars.
tai, cry; tain, crying.

tai, tie.

taiod, tired.
SPEECH OF A CHILD TWO YEARS OF AGE, 99

tau, cow (in mi-tau, moo-cow).
taug, towel.

taun, town (in daun-taun, ‘down-town’).
ugg, sugar.

@, you (in wy a, ‘thank you’).

A, shoe.

Ufi, “Ruthie.”

aim, room.

ap, soup.

W9, wash.

Wd, watch.

won, want.

ai, eye.

ai, lie.

aid, ride.

ait, light.

ait, right (in 0 ait, ‘all right’),
ait, white.

ait, write.

au, ‘‘ow” (exclamation expressing pain).
au-au, ‘‘bow-wow.”

aud6, outdoors.

aua, flower.

aus, our (in aua bébi, ‘ our baby’).
aut, out.

APPENDIX,

(1) The phonology of Ruth’s speech was again examined during
the first week of February, 1907, one year after the first study was
made. Her vowels were found to be approximately normal. The
following facts with regard to consonants were noted:

g, initial, still > d (about a month later she pronounced distinctly an ini-
tial g).

k, initial, still > t (April 2, 1907, she pronounced keendi, ‘candy’, distinctly,
and thereafter usually said koendi instead of neni).

sk still > ¢ (about March 1, 1907, she said stéts, ‘skates’, but found it impos-
sible to pronounce initial sk).

8 > d, and p>; but she pronounced 6 and p correctly when urged to do so.

tf > tf usually.

s, in all positions, = s generally, but s final sometimes still > /.

Linitial > y or 1: yédi or lédi (lady). If she exerted herself to speak care-
fully, she pronounced initial / distinctly. Medial and final J were normal.

r initial and medial > w (in March, 1907, she pronounced r almost normally
in one word).

8
100 DIALECT NOTES.

(2) When Ruth completed her fifth year, I observed again the
phonology of her speech, and I noted that her pronunciation con-
formed to that of the people among whom she lived, with only the
following exceptions:

g. Normal, except gr > dr: dreeme (grandma), drév (grave), drévi (gravy),
drin (green), dri (grew), etc.

k. Normal, except that kr> tr: trismes (Christmas), tré (crow), traun
(crown), etc.; and kw > tw: twdrtr (quarter), twik (quick), stwik (squeak), etc.

t. Normal, except in bekn (button).

3. Usually normal, as in ‘there’, ‘with’, etc.; but Ruth still hesitated
between onedr and envér (another).

p. > £ usually: brof (broth), fri (three), tif (teeth), ete.; but fig or piy
(thing), and always sempiy (something).
j. Normal, except in dest (just), a survival,

We see, then, that initial g and & had come to be pronounced
as such, except in the combinations gr and kr, and kw (there is no
corresponditig gw in popular English. The voiced th had gener-
ally become normal; but the surd th was still generally pro-
nounced as f. Here again we see that voiced ¢h and surd th did
not keep company. After having first appeared as w, the r sound,
initial or after a consonant, had finally become normal.

(3) At the seventh anniversary of her birthday, Ruth’s pro-
nunciation was normal with the exception of twik (quick) and
perhaps another word or two in which kw was still pronounced
as tw. During the course of the seventh year she had come to
pronounce surd ¢A normally in all words. Thus, ¢ for & and f for
surd th, were the last sounds of her ‘‘ baby speech” to disappear;
and her pronunciation did not become entirely normal before
the beginning of her eighth year.

ELIJAH CLARENCE HILLS.
CoLoRADO COLLEGE.
Sysrem ror Puonetic SPELLING.

1.—Vowels. asin father, ah, card. a for the sound of 0 in not, cot, top, when
the quality is nearer a in father than aw in law. ce forthe ain hat, mad, cap. 4 for
the a in fast, pass, when pronounced with a vowel intermediate between @ and @.

e asin pet, hen. €, ei for the vowel sound in pay, they, name, fate. Use ei when
the sound ends in a faint 7. a (a turned e) for the indistinct vowel written e¢ in butter,
battery. & for the sound in her, sir, curl, word.

o (a turned a) for « in up, but, o in son.

ias in hit, bid, pin. 4% for i in machine, ee in bee, seed.

2 (a turned c) for the vowel sound. in law, haul. o as in not, cob, top, if like the
vowel sound in law, haul, but shorter. 6,0u forthe vowel sound in no, dough, note,
tone. Use ou when the sound ends in a faint w. . 6 for the short New England sound
in stone, whole.

u for win full, pull, oo in book. & for oo in fool, pool, u in rude.

II.—Diphthongs. | ai for the sound of 7 in time, pine. Use ai for the sound usual
in England. au for the sound of ou in round, house. Use eu or du if either repre-

. sents the sound better. 07 as in boil, coin. ‘

ea for the sound in there, air, mare. Use ea or éa if either represents the sound
better. 9a for the sound in cord, hoard. Use 6 or 0a if either represents the sound
better. ia for the sound in fear, peer. aia for the sound in tre, fire. ta for the sound
in poor, tour. aua for the sound in hour, lower, power. (After these diphthongs
ending in 9,-an r should be written only when pronounced, and the a should be
omitted when not really pronounced.)

yt for the sound in use, few, pew. Use it for the peculiar American sound in
dew, new, which is intermediate between & and y@. Thus ny@ is English, nit is
‘American, but yas, fy@ are both American and English. Write n@,diu when the
words are so pronounced.

In case the ear makes finer distinctions than these and it seems important to note
them, the sign for the nearest sound in the above list may be used in each case with
an exponent (a}, o', r', etc.) to be explained by the writer. Other signs may be added
later. As to quantity, it will be understood that in unaccented syllables the quantity
of vowels is naturally lessened, and this lessening is sufficiently shown by the lack of
accent. Decidedly greater length than would be expected may be indicated by
doubling the letter. Nasality may be marked by , (a turned apostrophe) after the
letter, as @,. .

Il,—Consonants. -.b, d, f, g (always as in go, get), h, k,l, m, n, p, 7 (always as in
red, road, hurry), s (always asin mason), t, v, w, y, as usual. In addition: ffor sh

-in she; 3 for z in azure, s in pleasure; p for th in think; @ for thin this ; 9 for ng.
in singing, n in sink, finger ; also tf for ch in church ; d3 for j and dg in judge, g in
gem ; kw for qu in quite; hw for wh in, when ; ks, gz for w (tax, exact). Doubled con-
sonants are not to be used unless the consonant is really long or produces the effect of
two consonants on the ear ; as siti (city); sita (sitter), autt-ak (outtalk).

The accent may be marked by ‘ (a turned period) before the vowel of the accented:
syllable. It should always be written, unless the accent is on the first syllable of the
word. A secondary accent may be marked, when it seems desirable to mark it, by

: (colon) before the vowel, as weks:esib'iliti (accessibility). —

Hyphens may be used when necessary to indicate. syllable division and vocalic
character of J, r,, etc. Thus, a-a_is different from aa, ai-g from aia; and izl-1
(easily) may be written when the second syllable consists of ? with no preceding
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