University of Virginia Library

41. XLI.

The Indian mounds, those gigantic mausolea of
unhistoried nations, will ever present a subject of
absorbing interest to the reflecting mind. Elevating
their green summits amid the great forests of the
west—mysterious links of the unknown past—they
will stand imperishable through time, encircled by
the cities and palaces of men, silent but impressive
monitors of their grasping ambition. These sepulchres
are scattered every where throughout the valley
of the Mississippi—itself a mighty cemetery of
mighty tombs. In the pathless forests, and on the
banks of the rivers of the south-west, they are still
more thickly strewed than in the north valley, indicating

a denser population. It was recently suggested
to me, by a gentleman of antiquarian tastes,
that the Indians of the southern valley, by whom
these mounds were constructed, and who were a
mild and inoffensive people, far advanced in civilization,
were, in remote ages, invaded by a horde of
northern tribes from the Atlantic shores—as were
the effeminate states of southern Europe by the
Goths and Vandals—who drove out the original
possessors, and took possession of their delightful
country; while the fugitive inhabitants crossed the
Mississippi, and, moving to the west and south, laid
the foundation of the empire of Mexico. This theory
is not improbable, and it is supported by many
established facts. It is certain that the rude tribes
found in this country, by De Soto and his followers,
remnantss of which still exist, cannot be identified
with those by whom these tumuli were erected.
Among them there exists not even a tradition of the
formation of these mounds.

There have been many curious hypotheses advanced
in reference to their object. Some have
supposed that they were constructed, after a great
battle, of the numerous bodies of the slain; others,
that they were the customary burial-places of the
Indians, gradually accumulating in a series of years,
until, terminating in a cone, they were covered with
earth, and deserted for new cemeteries, to be in like
manner abandoned in their turn. Others, by a train
of analogous reasoning, founded upon the prevailing
custom of other aboriginal tribes, have supposed
them to be fortifications; and others again believe

them temples; or, like the pyramids of Egypt,
structures connected with the mysteries of the religion
of their builders. But their true origin, like
that of their grander prototypes on the plains of
Memphis, must for ever be lost in conjecture.

In the vicinity of Natchez, and within three
hours' ride of the city, in various directions, are
twelve or fifteen of these mounds. Some of them
have been partially excavated; and besides many
vessels, weapons of war, and ordinary human remains,
skeletons of men of a large size have been
found in them. On the estate of a gentleman two
miles from Natchez, and in the loveliest vale in this
region, there are three, situated equidistant from
each other, along the bank of the St. Catharine.
One of these was recently excavated by Dr. Powell,
a distinguished phrenologist of the west; from
which he obtained several earthen vessels, neatly
made, various fragments, and besides other bones,
three perfect skulls—one the most beautiful head
I ever beheld, of a young Choctaw girl; another,
the skull of a man of the same tribe; and the third,
a massive and remarkably formed skull of a Natchez.
I have since examined two of these mounds,
but was not able to add any thing important to the
discoveries of Dr. Powell. The perfect decomposition
which has taken place in one of them, would
indicate a much greater age than is generally attributed
to them. I laid bare a perpendicular face of
this mound, ten feet square, and the spade struck
but one hard substance, which proved to be the
lower jaw, containing seven or eight teeth, of some

wild animal, and a few splinters of corroded human
bones that crumbled between the fingers. I could
easily discern several strata, in this exposed surface,
alternately of common earth and a black friable loam,
resembling powder to the eye, but soft like paste in
the fingers. These black strata were veined with
light brown or dingy white streaks, of a firmer consistence.
The location of this mound, its height,
not exceeding twenty feet, the uniform decomposition,
and the regular series of strata, lead to the
conclusion, that it was constructed at one time, probably
after a battle, of the bodies of men whose
deaths took place at the same period, laid in layers,
one above another, as the modern slain are buried,
by only reversing the process, in deep pits.

The skulls found by Dr. Powell in the mound
opened by him, were very perfect specimens. The
head of the Choctaw differs not materially from those
of Europeans, when considered phrenologically, although
its developements of the organs of animal
feelings are more prominent than those of the intellectual
faculties. The head is generally smaller
than that of the European, but the general contour
is nearly the same. The skull of the Natchez is
remarkable in every respect. It is large, like the
German head, very angular, with bold developements.
It is shaped artificially in infancy,—a peculiarity
only of the skulls of the males—so that the
top of the forehead forms the apex of a cone. The
compressure necessary to produce this shape has
entirely destroyed the organs of veneration, of benevolence,
and of the reasoning powers. My examination

of this skull was for a moment only, and very
superficial, so that I did not ascertain the particular
deficiency or developement of any special organ.
The heads of the females of this extinct tribe, I am
informed by those who have examined them, are
very fine, displaying in their graceful, undulating
outline, the beau ideal of the human cranium.

There is a mound about five miles from Natchez,
upon the plantation of a gentleman, whose taste or
ambition has influenced him to erect his dwelling
upon its summit. A strange dwelling-place for the
living, over the sepulchres of the dead! Eleven
miles from the city there is another mound, or a collection
of mounds, which, in the beauty of its location,
the elevation of its summit, and the ingenuity
displayed in its construction, either as a fortress or
a temple, is entitled to an important rank among
these mysterious structures of the western valley.
A few days since I left Natchez with a northern
gentleman, for the purpose of visiting this mound.
Three miles from town we passed the race-course,
situated in a delightful intervale. This is the finest
“course” in the south, passing round a perfectly level
plain in a circle of one mile, whose centre is slightly
convex, so that the spectators can obtain a full view
of the horses while running. Ladies, on extraordinary
occasions, attend the races, although it is not
customary. But to south-western gentlemen the
race-course is a place of resort of the most alluring
character. On the St. Catharine race-course, now
alluded to, on great race days, the chivalry of Mississippi
will be found assembled in high spirits, and

full of the peculiar excitement incident to the occasion.
Home is, perhaps, the proper scene for studying
the planter's character; but it will never be
perfectly understood until he is seen, booted and
spurred, with his pocket-book in one hand, and bank
bills fluttering in the other, moving about upon the
turf.

Three miles from the race-ground, about which is
gathered a little village, sometimes called St. Catharinesville,
we entered the pretty and rural town of
Washington. The whole village was embowered
in the foliage of China trees, which thickly lined
both sides of the main street. Turning down a street
to the left, which led to the college, we alighted
there after a short ride over the green, as it was the
intention of the president and one or two of the professors
to accompany us to the mound. We were
shown the college library, comprised in a few shelves
filled with volumes of the statutes; and the cabinet,
where, besides a few interesting geological specimens,
were some bones of a mammoth, or mastodon,
found in the neighbourhood.

In the course of an hour we all mounted our
horses, and, entering the village, rode down its quiet
and shaded streets, and emerged on the brow of
the hill or ridge on which the town is built; and
shortly after crossed the pebbly bed of the St. Catharines,
which, in its serpentine windings, crosses
nearly every road in the neighbourhood of Natchez.
Beyond this stream, from an eminence over which
the road wound, we had a fine view of the village
on the opposite hill, with its college, lifting its roof

among the towering oaks; its dwellings, with their
light galleries and balconies, half hidden among the
shade trees; the female academy, with its green
lawn, a high colonnaded private edifice, overtopping
the trees, and its neat unassuming churches.

After a pleasant ride of five miles, through forest
and plantation scenery, over a country pleasantly
undulating, we arrived at the summit of a hill, just
after passing a neat brick cottage, surrounded by a
parterre, and half hidden in the woods; so that it
would not have been observed, but for the wide
gate on the road-side—often the only indication, as
I have before remarked, of the vicinage of a planter's
residence. From this hill we were gratified
with an extensive prospect of a richly wooded and
partially cultivated extent of country, occasionally
rising into precipitous hills, crowned with forest
trees. About a mile to the north, on our left, in
the centre of a large cotton plantation, surrounded
by an amphitheatre of hills, stood a singular cluster
of eminences, isolated from those encircling them,
whose summits were destitute of verdure or trees.
These were the goal of our excursion—the celebrated
tumuli of Mississippi. Descending the hill,
we passed through a gate, opening into a narrow
lane, bordered on either side with thick clumps of
trees, and the luxuriant wild shrubbery which grows
by the streams and along the roads throughout the
south; and after winding through ravines and crossing
bayous, we arrived at the “gin” of the plantation;
a large building resembling a northern haypress,
where some negroes were at work; one of

whom, with a readiness always characteristic of
the negro slave, immediately came out to take
charge of our horses. Declining his aid, as we
had no authority for appropriating his services—a
liberty as to which some planters are very punctilious—we
hitched our horses to the rail fence. Had
the proprietor of the estate been present, we should
have solicited the aid of some of his slaves in excavating:
but since then I have met with the venerable
planter, who, with great politeness, has offered
me every facility for making whatever researches
or excavations curiosity might suggest.

We ascended the steep sides of the mound with
some difficulty, as they were inclined but a few degrees
from the perpendicular. On gaining the summit,
thirty-five feet from the base, we saw, extended
before us, an elliptical area, whose plane was
three or four feet lower than the verge of the mound.
To the right, at the eastern extremity of the area,
rose a super-mound, fifteen feet high; and on the
opposite extremity, to the east, stood another, rising
thirty feet from the floor of the area or summit of
the great mound we had just ascended, and sixty
feet from the level of the surrounding plantation.
From the summit of this second mound the eye
embraced an irregular amphitheatre, confined by
elevated forests, half a league in diameter, whose
centre was the mound, from which, on nearly every
side, the ground descended, almost imperceptibly,
with a few obstructions, to the foot of the surrounding
hills.

This peculiarity of its location, so favourable for

a military position, would indicate such to have
been the object of its constructors. The whole
structure, so far as an opinion can be formed from
a careful survey of its general features, was originally
a conical hill, now changed to its present shape
by human labour; which nature, in a wayward
mood, placed, like Joseph's sheaf, conspicuous, and
aloof from the hills that surround it on every side.
From its present aspect, the mound, if originally a
natural hill, must have been forty or fifty feet high,
of an oblong form, its greatest diameter being from
east to west, with very precipitous sides. It consists
now of a single conspicuous elevation, oval in
shape, and presenting, on every side, indentations
and projections, not unlike the salient angles of military
works, serving to strengthen the opinion that
it was a fortification. Its summit is perfectly flat,
comprising an area of four acres, surrounded by a
kind of ballustrade, formed by the projection of the
sides of the mound two or three feet higher than
the area. The two super-mounds before mentioned
stand at either extremity of the summit, in a direction
east and west; a position indicating design, and
confirming the views of those who believe the structure
to be a temple. The Indians, by whom the
mound is supposed to have been erected, were, like
the Peruvians, worshippers of the sun and of fire,
and maintained a perpetual sacrifice of the latter
upon their altars. If this was a temple, the two
super-mounds were its altars; on one of which, toward
the east, burned the sacrifice of fire, to welcome
the rising sun, of which it was a pure and
beautiful emblem; while the bright flame upon the
altar toward the west, mingled with his last expiring
beams. Between these two superior mounds are
four others of inferior height, two of which border
the northern verge of the area, and two the southern,
although not exactly opposite to the former.
Thus the area upon the summit is surrounded by
six tumuli, of various elevations. The largest of
them, to the west, before mentioned, is flat on the
top, which contains about one-fourth of an acre.
Its external sides slope, as do the outside surfaces
of the other five, gradually down to the base of the
great mound upon which it is constructed.

The whole work is surrounded by the remains of
a ditch; from which, and from the sides of the chief
mound, the earth must have been taken to form
those upon the summit. The material of which the
whole is constructed, is the same alluvial earth as
that composing the sides of the ditch and the surrounding
plain. Neither stone nor brick forms any
portion of the material of the work, nor is the former
found any where in the vicinity. In the centre
of the elevated area is the mouth of a subterranean
passage, leading, with an easy inclination, to a
spring without the mound, on the north side of the
plain. It is now fallen in, and choked with briers
vines, and young trees. There are traces also of another
avenue, conducting to the south side, and opening
into the country. Against the two eastern angles
of the mound, at its base, are two smaller mounds,
ten feet high, which might be taken for bastions by
one who regarded the work as a fortification. In the

early settlement of this country, the mound was covered
with fruit-trees of a large size, whose age indicated
uninterrupted possession of their places for
centuries. It is now divested of its trees, and under
cultivation. It is to be regretted that the axe or
plough should ever have desecrated a monument
so sacred to the antiquary.

There is every evidence that formerly this position
was one of great importance. Remains of excavated
roads, passing through the adjacent forests,
and converging to this mound as their common
centre, still exist, in which large trees are growing,
whose age—more than two hundred years—gives
an approximation to the date when these roads were
disused, and when, probably, the spot to which they
centred, ceased to be regarded either as a shrine
for the Indian pilgrim—a national temple—or the
centre of their military strength. Human remains
of very large size have been discovered in its vicinity,
and also fragments of pottery, weapons,
pipes, and mortar-shaped vessels, covered with ornamental
tracery and hieroglyphics, evincing a high
degree of advancement in the arts. If their dwellings
and apparel were made with the same skill
which is displayed in the utensils and weapons discovered
in these mounds, their fabricators will be
regarded, so far as this criterion extends, as having
possessed a high degree of civilization.

In surveying this mound from the plain, the mind
is impressed with the idea of the vast amount of
human labour expended in thus piling it up—
mound upon mound—like Pelion upon Ossa.

Thousands of human emmets have toiled to rear
this hill—their busy hum filled the air, and every
spot around us was trodden by their nimble feet.
The question is naturally suggested to the mind,
while gazing upon the huge pile, “For what was it
constructed?”—and imagination, surveying the sad
history of the departed nations, who once inhabited
this pleasant land, might answer that a prophetic
warning of their total annihilation influenced these
people to erect a national tomb. And are they not
their tombs? Are not these the only evidences that
they ever have been—and are they not the receptacles
of their national remains? The footstep of the
labourer is now stayed for ever! his voice is hushed
in death! The shout of the hunter—the cry of the
warrior—the voice of love, are heard no more.

“The Natchez tribe of Indians,” says a beautiful
writer, to whom I have before alluded, and who involves
in his historical sketch a touching narrative,
“who inhabited the luxuriant soil of Mississippi,
were a mild, generous, and hospitable people.
The offspring of a serene climate, their character
was marked by nothing ferocious; and beyond the
necessity of self-defence, or the unavoidable collisions
with neighbouring tribes, by nothing martial.
Their government, it is true, was most despotic;
and, perhaps, the history of no other nation north
of the equator presents a parallel; and yet no charge
of an unnecessary, or unwarrantable exercise of this
great power, is made against them, even by their
historians, who were also the countrymen of their
oppressors. Their king, or chief, was called “The

Sun,” and the exalted station which he held, was
designated by a representation of that luminary
worn upon his breast. He united also with his
civic function, the priestly power and supremacy—
and thus entrenched behind the ramparts of physical
force, and wielding the terrors of superstition, he
was absolute master of the lives and property of his
subjects. His equal, in dignity and power, was his
queen, under the title of “The Wife of the Sun.”
Thus, then, living in undisturbed repose, and in the
innocent enjoyment of the bounties of nature, there
came in an evil hour to their peaceful shores, a
party of French emigrants, who, about the end of
the seventeenth or beginning of the eighteenth century,
navigated the Mississippi in quest of wealth
and territory. They were received with all the
cordiality and affection that these guiltless and inoffensive
beings could bestow. The choicest gifts
of the beneficent Creator had been showered upon
them with a lavish hand, and with a spirit, somewhat
allied to his who had conferred them, they
cheerfully tendered to the houseless wanderers a participation
in the blessings they themselves enjoyed.
These substantial pledges of amity and good feeling
were received with apparent gratitude by the
emigrants; but their immediate wants supplied,
they were again thrown back upon their evil passions,
that for a moment had been quelled by misfortune,
and perpetrated acts of injustice and cruelty
which excited the indignation of their benefactors.
Driven almost to frenzy, by repeated acts of aggression,
they attempted a re-establishment of their
rights, but were eventually subdued, and basely
massacred. The French, upon their arrival, affected
to treat upon terms of reciprocity for the products
of the soil; perceiving, however, the unsuspicious
temper of these generous Indians, they
threw off the mask, and urged novel and extravagant
demands; even extending to the fields which
supported their wives and children—and not until
they were driven in ignominy from them into the
depth of the wilderness, were their shameless oppressors
satisfied. At this period commenced the
league against the French, which embraced all the
tribes lying on the east, and to the failure of which,
through the unmerited compassion of their queen,
they owed their defeat and extermination.

Messengers were despatched to different quarters,
and a general massacre of the common enemy was
agreed upon. A day was appointed, but being unacquainted
with the art of writing, or the use of
numbers, the period was designated by a bundle of
sticks, every stick representing a day; each of the
confederated chiefs prepared a bundle corresponding
in number with those of his associates, one of
which was to be burned daily; and the committing
of the last to the flames, was to be the signal for
the attack.

“The wife of the sun,” still attached to the
French by many recollections, being the strangers
whom she had protected and loved—trembling at
the torrents of blood which must flow, and forgetting
the wrongs which had been heaped upon her
country, determined to preserve them, and inti

mated to their commander the necessity of caution;
by some singular incredulity he despised and neglected
the counsel thus tendered to him. Frustrated
in her purpose of saving those within the
limits of her own tribe, she determined, by the anticipation
of their fate, to preserve the majority scattered
throughout other tribes. Having free access
to the temple, she removed several of the sticks
there deposited, and the warriors, on repairing thither,
finding but one symbol remaining, prepared for the
dreadful business on which they had resolved. They
then consigned the last stick to the fire, and supposing
that the united nations were all engaged in
the same bloody work, fell upon the French, and
cut them off almost to a man.[17] Perrein, the commander,
with a few more, escaped, and collecting
a few of his countrymen, prevailed upon the neighbouring
tribes, by threats or promises, to abandon
and betray the devoted Natchez; and in one day
consigned them to the sword, sparing neither age,
sex, nor condition; he burnt their houses, laid waste
their fields, and desolation soon marked the spot,
once the retreat of an unoffending, peaceful, and
happy people. The few who escaped, fled for protection
to a neighbouring tribe, then, and now,
known as the Chickasaws; a brave, warlike, and
independent nation. Their conduct toward these
wretched outcasts should be remembered to their
immortal honour; they received them with open
arms, and resisted with unshaken firmness, the
earnest and repeated demands of the French for
their delivery; and to such an extent did they carry
their magnanimity, that they preferred hazarding a
doubtful contest, when their own existence was at
stake, to a violation of the pledges of hospitality and
protection, which they had made to a few persecuted
strangers. Three times, with souls bent upon
vengeance against the remnant of their ancient foes,
and with no less bloody purposes against their defenders,
did the French carry war to the Chickasaw
boundary, and three times were they driven back
with ignominy and loss—nor did they ever obtain
their object. The poor Natchez shared the hospitality
of their protectors until their necessities and sorrows
were alike relieved by death; their bones repose in
a land unknown to their fathers; their spirits may
be again mingled in the beautiful regions which
they believe to be prepared by the Great Spirit for
the fearless warrior, the successful hunter, and the
faithful and hospitable Indian, beyond the great
lakes. Such is the story of the Natchez—such
their melancholy end—such the kindness and benevolence
extended to the white man in distress—and
such the ingratitude, perfidy, and cruelty, with
which these favours were repaid. Of the distinguished
female, whose humanity and mercy proved
so unexpectedly fatal to her race, we hear no more
—but it is highly probable, that in the indiscriminate
massacre which took place, neither her
strong claims to the gratitude of the French, nor her
merciful and forbearing disposition, nor her honours,
titles, and dignities, nor even her sex, could protect
her; but that she fell an undistinguished victim,
among her slaughtered people.”