T THE STORMING OF AWATOBI. BY GEORGE WHARTON JAMES. HE North American Indian of the pueblos of Arizona lives a life so far apart from us that it is hard to realize him stirred to great depths of passion and frenzy. The Indian is revengeful, but stolid-we say and think. To see him in action, those of us who know him, is to know he is far from stolid. He has a power of reserve, a habit of mental concealment, that is entirely different from our noisy and chattersome exposure of what we think and feel. It was this power of reserve that deceived the Spaniards who first visited the Hopi and made them believe the Indians were submissive, and it was the same reserve that later lulled the priests into a sense of false security when the Indians were preparing to revolt and murder them. that that favor has been earned and won by centuries of devotion to the religion their ancestors handed down to them. At Walpi and Shimopavi the missionaries, therefore, made no converts, except those who perforce came to service and professed with their lips, while hatred burned in their hearts. And to this day the people there will relate stories showing their fierce hatred of the "longgowned" men. They say their ancestors were compelled to go to the San Francisco mountains, over the frightful wastes of the Painted Desert, a hundred or more miles, there to cut down trees to be used in building the churches. And then, when the trees were cut, they were harnessed as oxen to the great logs, twenty, fifty of them, and compelled to drag those fearful burdens over that wearisome, shadeless trail to the places where they were required. Zuni was the first pueblo conquered by Coronado in 1540. Then Coronado's lieutenant, Tobar, visited the province of Tusayan, where Nor was that all. With the introduction the Moki, or properly, the Hopituh, dwelt. of the new, the old worship was forbidden. The first village Tobar saw was Awatobi. It The prayers for rain, the snake dance, the was perched, like its western counterpart, basket dance, the flute dance, the dance of Oraibi, high up on the summit of a rocky the great plumed serpent, dances and ceremesa. Stealthily, in the night, Tobar scaled monies of all kinds connected with their the heights, and when morning came, after worship of all the objects and powers of a short and sharp encounter, he whipped the nature, were suppressed. Sometimes their Awatobians into submission. In succession secret meetings were disturbed by Spanish the other Hopi towns were subjugated, but priests and soldiers who, after punishing the nowhere did the Spaniards ever gain such a attendants, compelled them to disperse. foothold as here. When the Spanish priests This, the Hopituh say, naturally angered the settled down in the Hopi towns they chose gods, and the rain did not come, their crops Awatobi, Walpi, and Shimopavi as the places failed, and starvation decimated their to be honored with mission churches. villages. It was, doubtless, when they were under some such stress of circumstances that the emissaries of Popeh, the pueblo George Washington, reached the Hopituh villages. Stealthily they arrived, and stealthily they delivered their message. It was to the effect that on the 10th day of August, in the year 1680, all the inhabitants of the in The Hopi are essentially religious their way. They have inherited, or evolved, or both, a most complicated system of religious forms and ceremonies, to which they adhere with a conservatism and tenacity that are heroic and grand. They believe they are living in the favor of the gods, and pueblos of the Rio Grande, the Acomas, the Zunis, and themselves must revolt, and, without mercy, slay every hated white man, whether a soldier, a farmer, or a wearer of the long robe. At Walpi and Shimopavi the revolutionists were heard with delight and unmixed zeal, but at Awatobi a good priest, Padre Porras, by his kindly life and forebearance had won many hearts into a love of himself, and though his religion was hated by a few, there were those who had been led by his tolerance into a kind of acceptance of Christianity. This party was by far the most powerful in Awatobi, but, somehow, the plans of the insurgents were carried out, and all the priests and Spaniards were slain. Then came the dread of Spanish retaliaThose who favored the priests fostered the idea that the white men would come again and visit them with a terrible vengeance, and whenever Walpian met Awatobian the latter was sure to prophesy a speedy and fierce punishment. Thus it became known to all the Hopituh that the Awatobians looked for the return of the hated white men, and hoped to gain their favor by declaring themselves ready again to submit to their control. Angered beyond measure, the various Indian priests assembled time and again to see what could be done to bring the Awatobians to justice. Was there no hope of bringing them back to the true way of their ancestors? The Awatobi chief, Tapolo, still followed the old way, and he loved his people and pleaded for them. They would come to their senses ere long, he said. He did prevail upon them to restore their ancient dances and ceremonies. But it was a halfhearted worship, and quarrels between Tapolo and the Awatobians soon became common. At last the dreaded Spaniards did arrive. In 1692 Don Diego de Vargas reconquered the revolted pueblos, and, with a band of priests, reached Awatobi. With some of their old love for Padre Porras revived at the sight of the new "long gowns," and in fear of what might happen, the Awatobians refused the counsel of their chief, Tapolo, who urged that they fight the newcomers, and, instead, went out and welcomed the strangers, and brought their children to be baptized. At no other of the Hopi villages did the Spaniards receive aught but hatred and sullen submission, and it did not help matters at all when they saw and knew the unpatriotic spirit shown by the recreant Awatobians. At the other villages, if submission were shown, it was unwillingly and only out of fear of punishment, but at Awatobi many of the people seemed glad to forsake their old religion and ways and follow those of the foreigners. The result was that Tapolo and the believers in the old religion were soon at open enmity with the " perverts." At last, about the year 1700, angered beyond further attempt at reconciliation, Tapolo and his fellow chiefs determined upon their entire destruction. 66 66 Calling upon friends of his at Oraibi, a force was sent to kill the evil Awatobians, who, because they had forsaken the footsteps of their forefathers in religious matters were called "witches" or sorcerers.' Unfortunately large numbers were slain on both sides, but so well did the defenders hold their village entrances that the attacking party was compelled to retreat without gaining a foothold within the walls. Tapolo was furious. What he could not gain by force, he now resolved to gain by treachery. Making overtures of friendship, he was again received into the village and everything seemed to be amicably adjusted, but at the same time whenever he had an opportunity he secretly incited the people of Walpi and the other villages to take summary vengeance upon the wicked" sorcerers" of Awatobi, as soon as the time was ripe. "Are you cowards, you people of Walpi and Shimopavi? Will you let these people of Awatobi persist in their evil courses, who, because they are larger in number than yourselves, think you dare do nothing to them? They stop your hunters and steal their game from them; they have even slain your brothers, sons, and friends because they refused quietly to submit; your corn fields have been robbed, and even trampled upon; your wives and daughters insulted and yourselves mocked and taunted! Will you submit any longer? I, their chief, bid you slay them! Smite them, kill them, burn their houses, destroy their town, lest the anger of Those Above' fall upon the whole of the Hopi people, and we be swept from the earth." By such warlike speeches as this the anger of Tapolo communicated itself to his hearers, and it was finally agreed that at the great feast of the kwakwanti-which is still celebrated by the Hopi in November-an attack should be made upon the pervert Awatobians. How little did Foxe think, about the very time when he was writing his "Book of Martyrs," that in the heart of the American continentor, to speak more correctly, on the western edge of the Great American Desert a whole town and its people were being destroyed for toleration and kindness shown to the missionaries of the Cross. This special feast seemed foreordained for the easy carrying out of Tapolo's vindictive designs. The purport of it was to ceremonially admit the young men of the town to the councils of the elders. After undergoing certain ordeals, and answering the questions put to them to the satisfaction of the elders, the young men enter the kivas and participate in very sacred and secret rites, which last for several days. The closing ceremonies require the attendance of every man in the town at the kiva to which he belongs, and no one is allowed to leave the place until sunrise. It must be borne in mind that these kivas are underground chambers, most of them hewn out of the solid rock, and the only method of entrance or egress is by the ladder through the hatchway in the ceiling. Hence it is apparent what Tapolo's plan meant. If these men could be surprised while in their kiva ceremonies, and the ladders withdrawn from the hatchways, rats in steel traps were never more surely exposed to the designs of their captors than these unhappy Awatobians would be to the frenzied and fanatical hatred of their religious foes. To Tapolo was left the planning of the attack and the gaining of entrance to the mesa town. Successfully he avoided awakening the suspicions of his townsmen. By sweet soft words, adroitly spoken, he stilled their anger, and with craft and guile went about his work of betrayal. Somehow he managed to let the shamans at Walpi know when the kwakwanti was begun. These men assembled their most trusty and careful messengers and thus charged them: "Haste, thee to Shimopavi, thee to Shipauluvi, thee to Mashongnavi, and thee to Oraibi. Tell the shamans of The Trues that the power of the whirlwind, the heat of the sun, the death of the lightning, and the flames of the fire are to break upon Awatobi before two more sleeps are over. Bid them assemble the bravest, the most crafty, and the strongest of their warriors. Let every man be well prepared with many war arrows. Bid the shamans prepare them by prayers and supplications for the keeping of Those Above. Let each warrior bring his spear and battleax and come with deadly hatred in his heart against those who for so long have defied the gods of our ancestors, have brought disaster to the people of peace' and shamed them in the presence of their enemies, the hated Navaho, Paiuti, and Apache.' The messengers sped away in the darkness of the night. The purple blackness of the heavens seemed made as a perfect background for the twinkling stars, which, in this clear atmosphere are far larger and brighter than anywhere else in the world. Serenely they shone and twinkled just as if there was no hatred in the hearts of men. At the appointed time, while the Awatobians in their confident simplicity were performing their rites in the kivas, the warriors of the different villages were assembling at Walpi. Between one hundred and fifty and two hundred of them came, well armed, and-sinister suggestion - each man likewise had a large bunch of shredded cedar bark, splinters of piñon full of resin, bunches of dry greasewood that flames like paper soaked in kerosene, and, worse still, pouches of pulverized red peppers. In one of the Awatobi kivas Tapolo sat with the chiefs, singing the songs, praying the prayers, dancing the dances of his fellows. Goodness was on his face, his lips, his tongue; but murder was in his heart. Yonder, to the northeast, was the church of San Bernardino, erected by the hated Spanish priests of the long robes. Below it, as a protection from attack, the Spaniards, long ago, had built a high and strong wall, in which was a heavy door. Not yet, Tapolo, need you go to the door! There is still time. Sing on your treacherous songs; lull the fears of your fellow-townsmen more securely to sleep by your earnest and fervent prayers that the blessings of Those Above may always rest upon Awatobi. For yonder, under cover of the dark night, the merciless, pitiless stars silently looking on, the silver crescent moon never suggesting a thought of the crawling and creeping Death that quietly approaches Awatobi, nearly two hundred warriors, with clenched hands, set teeth, fierce eyes and wrinkled brows, and unrelenting murder in their hearts are rapidly nearing the spring below the wall of protection. Step by step they approach the gate. Now, Tapolo, thine hour of triumph is come! Pray one more prayer before thou goest out to thy damnable work. Sing one more sweet song of peace and brotherliness before thou goest forth to betray thy brothers. With a gleam of triumphant hatred that would have sent fear into many a brave Awatobian heart had it been observed, the traitor Tapolo stole up the ladder and secretly hied him to the door of the Spanish wall. Alas! no warning voice prevented him, no guardian angel sent forth a message to some woman to intercept him. Even Those Above were asleep. They had abandoned Awatobi, because of its complacency to those who would have destroyed the time-honored worship. The door was opened. The foes stealthily sneaked in. The warriors, like shadows of evil, breathlessly moved to the kivas alloted to them. Carefully they avoided passing near where the women were at work cooking the feast to be eaten at sunrise when their sons, husbands, and brothers came from the sacred kivas. Alas! those fires were to help on the murder of their loved ones; that food, so lovingly prepared, was to nourish those whose devilish cunning had slain those for whom it was made ready. here. As the fires declined, the few helpless wretches in whom a spark of life was still left were dragged forth, and made to struggle across the valley to Mashongnavi. Here, after being whipped and hacked and pricked with cactus needles, made to swallow dirt and filth, they were ruthlessly slain, and their bodies, after being mutilated and desecrated, were left for the buzzards and vultures. Before the warriors left Awatobi every house was set on fire or battered down, the church was totally destroyed, and thus, in one night, a village of not much less than a thousand souls was completely swept out of existence. But what were the Awatobi women doing while all these dreadful proceedings were going on? Tapolo had arranged for them. A contingent had burst upon them, some at every house, and soon there was not a woman or girl who was not bound hand and foot. At a signal, howls, yells, shouts, cries, When their husbands or brothers were being burst upon the ears of the sleeping or praying driven to Mashongnavi, or were left dead in bands in the kivas below. Not a soul of the the burning kivas, they were taken as prismale sex but was in one of these traps. In oners to Walpi. a moment the ladders were withdrawn, and men with bows and arrows, spears and battle-axes stood ready for any who might dare to attempt escape. The cedar barb, and the greasewood, and the piñon splinters were ignited at the cooking fires. Arrows were shot to keep back the warriors below from putting out the flames when the burning material was thrown down the hatchways. Great fires were thus speedily kindled, giving out intense heat and dense floods of smoke which rolled about the helpless victims, stifling, choking, and blinding them. But religious fury stops not at ordinary punishments. When the flames were at their height, each warrior above took from his pouch handfuls of the powdered red peppers and cast them upon the fires. Ah! the cruelty of it. As the fierce, burning, acrid fumes reached them, the helpless victims shrieked in their agony, to the accompaniment of the triumphant yells and horrible laughter of their enemies above. Dante's visions of genius never conceived tortures of hell more diabolical than those perpetrated That was two hundred years ago, and only within the last eight or ten years was the site recognized and explored. Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, the eminent ethnologist of the United States Bureau of Ethnology, visited the place, made excavations, found the burned remnants of the kivas, discovered piled up mounds of bones of the unhappy victims just as they perished, and many other evidences of the truth of the tradition, and the scant history left by the Spaniards. To his account I am much indebted, although I have heard the story much as I have told it from Hopi lips. The women were divided as prisoners of war, and in a few years in their new homes and with new families were made to forget that horrible night in November when their town and name and people were destroyed from the living peoples of the earth. SONNET AND SONNETEER: A STUDY. BY GRACE ADELE PIERCE. "The melody "I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here." - Slender in "Merry Wives of Windsor." REZZO, the birthplace of Guido (the A musical), of Guittone, and of Petrarch, was also the birthplace of the sonnet. In this memorable old city, in the earlier half of the twelfth century, it is generally believed that the poet-monk, Friar Guittone, brought to its existence this most melodious of poetical constructions; thus giving to the world of literature a form unsurpassed in significance and grace. The word "sonnet" is derived from the Italian, meaning to sound. Of all the versified compositions this is the most dependent upon form, the laws that govern its construction being as the laws of the Medes and Persians. The history, or rather the biography, of the sonnet is of deepest interest to the student of literature. As to the construction, Leigh Hunt has given, in many respects, a most reliable treatise on the subject, which should be read by every aspirant to this method of versification. Other and later works could also be studied with profit. In this article only a condensed outline can be attempted, but, so far as possible, points of epochal interest have been given prominence and a logical historical sequence has been preserved. One hundred years after Friar Guittone had given to the world his masterpiece of literary conception, amid the same surroundings, a later and greater master of the sonnet first saw the light-"Fraunceis Petrark, the laureat poete"-his birth having taken place at Arezzo in the year 1304. The son of an exiled Florentine, Petrarch inherited his marvelous powers from a race of singers, of lovers, and of poets. Destined to hold high rank as second in Italy's great triumvirate of poets, his name is chiefly preserved to the world by his sonnets to Laura beautiful Avignonese love. his "Pace non trovo e non ho da far guerra" sang Petrarch in his one hundred and fourth sonnet, and all the race of lovers and of poets heard, and have listened through the centuries; for Petrarch is the acknowledged master of every successful writer of the love sonnet. "I find no peace, and all my war is done' closely translated Wyatt two hundred years afterward, since it was not until the beginning of the sixteenth century that this form of poetic composition was introduced into English versification. In the first half of the sixteenth century, Wyatt or Surrey, or both simultaneously, transplanted the sonnet to English soil, where it has flourished till this day, often disfigured, but always with sufficient vitality to tide its growth until the nurture of some essentially poetic mind could again bring it to its perfection of form. Neither the sonnets of Wyatt nor Surrey conformed to the laws of the legitimate construction, and were the progenitors of a mighty host of illicit verses, purporting to be sonnets and flourishing in collections bearing such ingenious titles as: "A Small Handful of Fragrant Flowers," "A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions, "A Handful of Pleasant Delites"; and many others, ending with "England's Helicon," published in the year 1600. The only striking exception to the general illegitimacy of the sonnets in these collections is to be found in the "Divine Century of Spiritual Sonnets," written by one Barnabe Barnes who was contemporary with the poet Churchyard. These so-called sonnets, however, are not worthy of consideration, since we are now privileged to turn our attention to the first great master of the form in the English language-Sir Philip Sidney. He, rather than Barnabe Barnes (who in his time was so designated), should be called "Petrarch's scholar." He, like the great Italian, favored of fortune, honored and uplifted, found in an unrequited passion the key to a lasting fame. The name of Sidney lives in literature rather through his "Astrophel and Stella" than by his "Arcadia"; his sonnets being read where more extended works would long since have been discarded. Sidney's masterpiece is the sonnet on "Sleep," which, magnificent as it is in |