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THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE

Of Literature, Art, and Science.

Vol. V.--NEW-YORK, MARCH 1, 1852--No. III.




[Illustration]

THE AZTECS AT THE SOCIETY LIBRARY.


For several weeks the attention of the curious has been more and more
attracted to a remarkable ethnological exhibition at the Society
Library. Two persons, scarcely larger than the fabled gentlemen of
Lilliput, (though one is twelve or thirteen and the other eighteen years
of age), of just and even elegant proportions, and physiognomies
striking and peculiar, but not deficient in intellect or refinement,
have been visited by throngs of idlers in quest of amusement,
wonder-seekers, and the profoundest inquirers into human history. Until
very recently, Mexico was properly described as _Terra Incognita_. The
remains of nations are there shrouded in oblivion, and cities, in their
time surpassing Tadmor and Thebes, untrodden except by the jaguar and
the ocelot. A few persons, indeed, attracted by uncertain rumors of
ancient grandeur in Palenque, have visited her temples and tombs--

                       There to track
    Fallen states and empires o'er a land
    Which was the mightiest in her high command,
    And is the loveliest--

but no one has been found to read the hieroglyphics of Tolteca, to
disclose the history of the dwellers in Anahuac, to make known the
annals of the rise and fall of Tlascala, Otumba, Copan, or Papantla. In
the great work of Lord Kingsborough are collected many important remains
of Mexican and Aztec art and learning; Mr. Prescott has combined with a
masterly hand the traditions of the country; and Mr. Stevens and Mr.
Squier have done much in the last few years to render us familiar with
the more accessible and probably most significant ruins which illustrate
the civilization of the race subdued by the Spaniards; but still Central
America is unexplored. In the second volume of the work of Mr. Stevens,
he mentions that a Roman Catholic priest of Santa Cruz del Quiche told
him marvellous stories of a "large city, with turrets white and
glittering in the sun," beyond the Cordilleras, where a people still
existed in the condition of the subjects of Montezuma. He proceeds:

     "The interest awakened in us, was the most thrilling I ever
     experienced. One look at that city, was worth ten years of an
     every-day life. If he is right, a place is left where Indians
     and a city exist, as Cortez and Alvarado found them; there are
     living men who can solve the mystery that hangs over the ruined
     cities of America; who can, perhaps, go to Copan and read the
     inscription on its monuments. No subject more exciting and
     attractive presents itself to any mind, and the deep impression
     in my mind will never be effaced. Can it be true? Being now in
     my sober senses, I do verily believe there is much ground to
     suppose that what the Padre told us is authentic. That the
     region referred to does not acknowledge the government of
     Gautamala, and has never been explored, and that no white man
     has ever pretended to have entered it; I am satisfied. From
     other sources we heard that a large _ruined_ city was visible;
     and we were told of another person who had climbed to the top
     of the sierra, but on account of the dense clouds rising upon
     it, he had not been able to see any thing. At all events, the
     belief at the village of Chajul is general, and a curiosity is
     aroused that burns to be satisfied. We had a craving desire to
     reach the mysterious city. No man if so willing to peril his
     life, could undertake the enterprise, with any hope of success,
     without hovering for one or two years on the borders of the
     country, studying the language and character of the adjoining
     Indians, and making acquaintance with some of the natives. Five
     hundred men could probably march directly to the city, and the
     invasion would be more justifiable than any made by Spaniards;
     but the government is too much occupied with its own wars, and
     the knowledge could not be procured except at the price of
     blood. Two young men of good constitution, and who could afford
     to spend five years, might succeed. If the object of search
     prove a phantom, in the wild scenes of a new and unexplored
     country, there are other objects of interest; but, if real,
     besides the glorious excitement of such a novelty, they will
     have something to look back upon through life. As to the
     dangers, they are always magnified, and, in general, peril is
     discovered soon enough for escape. But, in all probability, if
     any discovery is made, it will be made by the Padres. As for
     ourselves, to attempt it alone, ignorant of the language, and
     with the mozos who were a constant annoyance to us, was out of
     the question. The most we thought of, was to climb to the top
     of the sierra, thence to look down upon the mysterious city;
     but we had difficulties enough in the road before us; it would
     add ten days to a journey already almost appalling in the
     perspective; for days the sierra might be covered with clouds;
     in attempting too much, we might lose all; Palenque was our
     great point, and we determined not to be diverted from the
     course we had marked out."--_Vol. ii., p. 193-196._

Mr. Stevens appears to have had some confidence in the Padre's
statement, and expresses a belief that the race of the aboriginal
inhabitants of Central America is not extinct, but that, scattered
perhaps and retired, like our own Indians, into wildernesses which have
never been penetrated by white men--erecting buildings of "lime and
stone," "with ornaments of sculpture, and plastered," "large courts,"
and "lofty towers, with high ranges of steps," and carving on tablets of
stone mysterious hieroglyphs, there are still in secluded cities
"unconquered, unvisited, and unsought aborigines." It is stated in a
pamphlet before us, that such a city was discovered in 1849 by three
adventurous travellers, and that one of them succeeded in bringing to
New York two specimens of its diminutive and peculiar inhabitants--the
persons now being exhibited in Broadway. Of the credibility of this
account we express no opinion, but the "Aztec Children" have the
phrenological and general appearance of the ancient Mexican sculptures,
and may well be regarded for their probable origin, their physical
structure, or their mere appearance, as among the "most wonderful
specimens of humanity." We assent to the following paragraph by Mr.
Horace Greeley, whose testimony agrees with the common impressions they
have produced:

     "I hate monstrosities, however remarkable, and am rather
     repelled than attracted by the idea of their truthfulness.
     Assuming that there is a propensity in human nature--an
     'organ,' as the phrenologists would phrase it--that finds
     gratification in the inspection and scrutiny of Joice Heths,
     Woolly Horses, and six-legged Swine, I would rather have it
     gratified by fabricated and factitious than by natural and
     veritable productions, and would rather not share in the
     process from which that gratification is extracted. There is a
     superabundance of ugliness and deformity which one is obliged
     to see, without running after and nosing any out. It was,
     therefore, with some reluctance that I obeyed a polite
     invitation to visit the Aztec children, and ratify or dispute
     the commendations hitherto bestowed on them, in these columns
     and elsewhere. I did not expect to find ogres nor any thing
     hideous, but, among all similar exhibitions, remembering with
     pleasure only Tom Thumb, I could not hope to find gratification
     in the sight of two dwarf Indians. But I was disappointed.
     These children are simply abridgements or pocket editions of
     Humanity--bright-eyed, delicate-featured, olive-complexioned
     little elves, with dark, straight, glossy hair,
     well-proportioned heads, and animated, pleasing countenances.
     That their ages are honestly given, and that the boy weighs
     just about as many pounds as he is years old (twenty), while
     the girl is about half his age and three pounds lighter, I see
     no reason at all for doubting. That they are human beings,
     though of a low grade morally and intellectually, as well as
     diminutive physically, there can be no doubt; and they are not
     freaks of Nature, but specimens of a dwindled, minnikin race,
     who almost realize in bodily form our ideas of the 'brownies,'
     'bogles,' and other fanciful creations of a more superstitious
     age. Their heads, unlike those of dwarfs, are small and not
     ill-looking, but with very low foreheads and a general
     conformation strongly confirmatory of certain fundamental
     assertions of Phrenology. Idiotic they are not; but their
     intellect and language are those of children of three or four
     years, to whom their gait also assimilates them; but they have
     none of childhood's reserve or shyness, are inquisitive and
     restless, and articulate with manifest efforts and difficulty.
     To children of three to six or eight years, their incessant
     pranks and gambols must be a source of intense and unfailing
     delight. The story that they were procured from an unknown,
     scarcely approachable Aboriginal City of Central America called
     _Iximaya_, situated high among the mountains and rarely visited
     by civilized man, may be true or false; but that they are
     natives of that part of the world, I cannot doubt. To the
     moralist, the student, the physiologist, they are subjects
     deserving of careful scrutiny and thoughtful observation; while
     to those whose highest motive is the gratification of
     curiosity, but especially to children, they must be objects of
     vivid interest."




A DAY AT CHATSWORTH.

THE PRISON OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, AND PALACE OF THE DUKES OF
DEVONSHIRE.

[Illustration: THE ENTRANCE GATES.]


Among the most magnificent of the palatial homes of England--indeed one
of the most rich and splendid residences occupied in all the world by an
uncrowned master--is Chatsworth, in Derbyshire, the most beautiful
district in the British islands. With some abridgment we transfer to the
_International_ an account of a recent visit to Chatsworth, by Mrs. S.
C. HALL, with the illustrations by Mr. FINHALT, from the January number
of the London _Art-Journal_. Our agreeable authoress, after some general
observations respecting the attractions of the neighborhood, proceeds:

     "We are so little proud of the beauties of England, that the
     foreigner only hears of Derbyshire as the casket which contains
     the rich jewel of CHATSWORTH. The setting is worthy of the gem.
     It ranks foremost among proudly beautiful English mansions; and
     merits its familiar title of the Palace of the Peak. It was the
     object of our pilgrimage; and we recalled the history of the
     nobles of its House. The family of Cavendish is one of our
     oldest descents; it may be traced lineally from Robert de
     Gernon, who entered England with the Conqueror, and whose
     descendant, Roger Gernon, of Grimston, in Suffolk, marrying the
     daughter and sole heiress of Lord Cavendish in that county, in
     the reign of Edward II., gave the name of that estate as a
     surname to his children, which they ever after bore. The study
     of the law seems to have been for a long period the means of
     according position and celebrity to the family, Sir William
     Cavendish, in whose person all the estates conjoined, was Privy
     Councillor to Henry VIII., Edward VI., and Mary; he had been
     Gentleman-Usher to Wolsey; and after the fall of the great
     Cardinal, was retained in the service of Henry VIII. He
     accumulated much wealth, but chiefly by his third marriage,
     with Elizabeth, the wealthy widow of Robert Barley, at whose
     instigation he sold his estates in other parts of England, to
     purchase lands in Derbyshire, where her great property lay.
     Hardwick Hall was her paternal residence, but Sir William began
     to build another at Chatsworth, which he did not live to
     finish. Ultimately, Elizabeth became the wife of George Talbot,
     Earl of Shrewsbury; she was one of the most remarkable women of
     her time, and the foundress of the two houses of Devonshire and
     Newcastle. Her second son, William, by the death of his elder
     brother in 1616, after being created Baron Cavendish, of
     Hardwick, was in 1618 created Earl of Devonshire. It was
     happily said of him, 'his learning operated on his conduct, but
     was seldom shown in his discourse.' His son, the third Earl,
     was a zealous loyalist; like his father, remarkable for his
     cultivated taste and learning, perfected under the
     superintendence of the famous Hobbes of Malmesbury. His eldest
     son, William, was the first Duke of Devonshire; the friend of
     Lord Russell, and one of the few who fearlessly testified to
     his honor on his memorable trial. Wearied of courts, he retired
     to Chatsworth, which at that time was a quadrangular building,
     with turrets in the Elizabethan taste; and then, 'as if his
     mind rose upon the depression of his fortune,' says Kennett,
     'he first projected the now glorious pile of Chatsworth;' he
     pulled down the south side of 'that good old seat,' and rebuilt
     it on a plan'so fair an august, that it looked like a model
     only of what might be done in after ages.' After seven years,
     he added the other sides, 'yet the building was his least
     charge, if regard be had to his gardens, water-works, statues,
     pictures, and other the finest pieces of Art and Nature that
     could be obtained abroad or at home.' He was highly honored
     with the favor and confidence of William III. and his successor
     Anne. Dying in 1707, his son William, who was Lord Lieutenant
     of Ireland, spent the latter part of his life at Chatsworth,
     dying there in 1755. It is now the favorite country residence
     of his great grandson, the sixth Duke and ninth Earl of
     Devonshire.

     "The Duke's tastes, as evinced at Chatsworth, are of the purest
     and happiest order;--and are to be found in the adornments of
     his rooms, the shelves of his library, the riches of his
     galleries of art, and the rare and beautiful exotic marvels of
     his gardens and conservatories. Charles Cotton, in his poem,
     the _Wonders of the Peak_, wrote, two centuries ago, of the
     then Earl of Devonshire--and no language can apply with
     greater truth to the Duke who is now master of Chatsworth:

         "But that which crowns all this, and does impart
         A lustre far beyond the pow'r of Art,
         Is the great Owner; He, whose noble mind
         For such a Fortune only was design'd.
         Whose bounties, as the Ocean's bosom wide,
         Flow in a constant, unexhausted tide
         Of Hospitality, and free access,
         Liberal Condescension, cheerfulness,
         Honor and Truth, as ev'ry of them strove
         At once to captivate Respect and Love:
         And with such order all perform'd, and grace,
        As rivet wonder to the stately place."

[Illustration: THE EMPEROR FOUNTAIN.]

     "Although carriages are permitted to drive from the railway
     terminus at Rowsley, to the pretty and pleasant inn at Edenson,
     by a road which passes directly under the house, the stranger
     should receive his first impressions of Chatsworth from one of
     the surrounding heights. It is impossible to convey a just idea
     of its breadth and dignity; the platform upon which it stands
     is a fitting base for such a structure; the trees, that at
     intervals relieve and enliven the vast space, are of every rich
     variety, the terraces nearly twelve hundred feet in
     extent--'the emperor fountain' throwing its jet two hundred and
     seventy feet into the air, far overtopping the avenue of
     majestic trees, of which it forms the centre. The dancing
     fountain, the great cascade, even the smaller fountains
     (wonderful objects any where, except here, where there are so
     many more wonderful) sparkle through the foliage; while all is
     backed by magnificent hanging woods, and the high lands of
     Derbyshire, extending from the hills of Matlock to Stony
     Middleton. And the foreground of the picture is, in its way,
     equally beautiful; the expansive view, the meadows now broken
     into green hills and mimic valleys, the groups of fallow deer,
     and herds of cattle, reposing beneath the shade of
     wide-spreading chestnuts, or the stately beech--all is harmony
     to perfection; nothing is wanting to complete the fascination
     of the whole. The enlarged and cultivated minds which conceived
     these vast yet minute arrangements, did not consider minor
     details as unimportant; every tree, and brake, and bush; every
     ornament, every path, is exactly in its right place, and seems
     to have ever been there. Nothing,