Chapter X: Part II: Mythology and Folk-Lore (2)

Having succeeded, the soul saw the nightly constellations and the heavenly stars, and reached the great celestial river, whose name was Nun. This was the self-created, primordial element. From its green depths all created things, even the gods themselves, took their origin. It is called in the texts, “father of all gods.” From it rose Ra, the Sun-god, in his brightness. In its dark depths lies bound in chains of iron the serpent Refref, the symbol of evil, otherwise called Apap. But, though bound, this monster endeavors to seize each soul that crosses the river. The fortunate soul repels the serpent by blows and incantations which destroy its power, but the unfortunate one is swallowed up and annihilated.

This danger passed, the soul reaches the farther strand, and rises from the waters, as Horus, who represents the sun at dawn, rises from the eastern waves. This is the purpose of all the rites and prayers—to have the soul, as the expression is, “rise at day” or “rise in the daytime.” In other words, to rise as the sun and with the sun, or, to use again the constant formula of the “Book of the Dead,” to “enter the boat of the Sun;” for the Sun was supposed to sail through celestial and translucent waters on its grand journey from horizon to zenith and zenith to horizon. Starting at dawn as the child Horus, son of the slain and lost Osiris, the orb of light became at midday the mighty Ra, and as evening approached, was transformed into Khep-Ra or Harmachis, again to become Osiris when it had sunk beneath the western verge.

So strict and absolute was the analogy supposed by the Egyptians to exist between the course of the sun and the destiny of the soul, that every soul was said to become Osiris at the moment of death, and in the copies of the “Book of the Dead,” enclosed in a mummy, the proper name of the defunct is always preceded by the name “Osiris,” as we might say “Osiris Rameses” or “Osiris Sesostris.”

To illustrate further what I have said, I will translate a few passages from the most recent and correct version of the “Book of the Dead,” that published at Paris a few months ago, and made by Prof. Paul Pierret, of the Egyptian Museum of the Louvre.

The following is an extract from the first chapter of this Ritual:

“O ye who open the roads! O ye who make smooth the paths to the souls in the abode of Osiris! Make smooth the paths, open the roads to Osiris Such-a-one that he may enter, by the aid of this chapter, into the abode of Osiris; that he may enter with zeal and emerge with joy; that this Osiris Such-a-one be not repulsed, nor miss his way, that he may enter as he wishes and leave when he wills. Let his words be made true and his orders executed in the abode of Osiris.

“This Osiris Such-a-one is journeying toward the west with good fortune. When weighed in the balance he is found to be without sin; of numerous mouths, none has condemned him; his soul stands erect before Osiris; out of his mouth when on earth no impurity proceeded.”

(Here the soul speaks:)

“I place myself before the master of the gods; I reach the divine abode; I raise myself as a living god; I shine among the gods of heaven; I am become as one of you, O ye gods. I witness the progress of the holy stars. I cross the river Nun. I am not far removed from the fellowship of the gods. I eat of the food of the gods. I sit among them. I am invoked as a divine being; I hear the prayers offered to me; I enter the boat of the sun; my soul is not far from its lord. Hail to thee, Osiris! Grant that I sail joyously to the west, that I be received by the lords of the west; that they say to me, ‘Adoration, adoration and peace be thine;’ and that they prepare a place for me near to the chief of chiefs divine.”

Through the rhetoric of this mystic rhapsody we see that the soul goes to the abode of Osiris, is judged and tested as to its merits, and if approved crosses in safety the river Nun and becomes as one of the gods themselves; a companion of Osiris and Ra.

Such, in broad outline, was the orthodox Egyptian doctrine. There was a vast amount of accessory matter and mysticism added to this simple statement, but the foundation is always the same.

To one or two points I will call attention for later reference in this paper.

In the 13th Chapter of the “Book of the Dead,” the defunct is supposed to repeat the following formula:

“I arrive as a hawk, I depart as a phenix. I am the God of the morning. I have finished the journey and worshipped the sun in the lower world. Heavily braided is the hair of Osiris. I am one of the dogs of Horus. I have finished the journey and worshipped Osiris.”

The reference to the hair of Osiris and the transformation of the soul into a dog, are incidents to which I shall refer in another connection.

Another interesting fact is the frequent recurrence of the numbers four and eight in the Egyptian theories of the spiritual world. In the 16th Chapter of the “Book of the Dead,” it is prescribed that four pictures as set forth should be painted on the sarcophagus, in order that the soul may pass through the four apertures of the sky. The chapter identifies these with the cardinal points from which blow the four winds. In chapter 17, which is one of the oldest texts in the book, reference is made to the eight gods of Hermapolis; elsewhere the number is mentioned. This illustrates the easy transfer of the plan of terrestrial geography to that of the spiritual world.

Passing now to the mythology of the Aryan nations, we find that the three great cycles of its poetry, the Indian, the Greek, and the Norse, agree closely in their opinions of the destination of the soul.

After death, according to their belief, the soul descended into a world below the surface of the earth. The Greeks called it the realm of Hades, from the name of its ruler, otherwise known as Pluto. The latter name signifies the wealthy, because sooner or later all the children of men and all their possessions come under his power. The meaning of Hades is unknown, as its derivation from _æidos_, unseen, is now generally doubted by the best Greek scholars.

The entrance to this realm was supposed to be guarded by two dogs, the more famous of which, Cerberus in Greek, is in the Vedas spoken of by the same name, Carvara. The soul must pacify these dogs and pass them without injury if it would enjoy the delights that lay beyond. Within the gates stretched a broad desert through which flowed the river Acheron, which in later myths came to have various branches, the Styx, Lethe, Polyphegmon, etc. This was to be crossed in the boat of Charon, the silent ferryman, who spake no word but exacted of each ghost a toll.

The dark river crossed, the spirit appeared before the judges, and by them its future fate was decided. An adverse decision condemned it to wander lonely in the darkness, but a favorable verdict authorized its entrance into the happy fields of Elysium. This joyous abode was in the far west, in that land beyond the shining waters and the purple sunset sea, where the orb of light goes to rest himself at night. Its light is eternal, its joys perennial, its happiness perfect.

With little difference, this faith was shared by ancient Indians and ancient Norsemen. The latter often buried with the dead a canoe or boat, destined to convey the soul across the waves to the happy land beyond.

Even the ancient Kelt of Cornwall or Brittany had this same myth of the Islands of the Blessed, lying somewhere far out in the Western Sea. What to the Greek was the Garden of the Hesperides with its fruit of golden quinces, was to the Kelt the Isle of Avalon, with its orchards of apples.

Thither was conveyed the noble Arthur when slain on the field of Lyoness. He was borne away in a royal boat by the fairy women of the strand. There Ogier the Dane, worn by the wars of a hundred years, was carried by his divine godmother to be restored to youth and strength, and to return again to wield his battle-axe under the Oriflamme of France.

Wherever we turn, whether in the most ancient chants of the Vedas, in the graceful forms of the Greek religious fancy, in the gaunt and weird imaginings of the Norse poets, or in the complex but brilliant pictures of mediæval romance, we find the same distinct plan of this journey of the soul.

I pass now to the New World, almost to the antipodes of India, and take up the doctrines of the Aztecs. We have sufficiently ample accounts of their notions, preserved by various early writers, especially by Father Sahagun, who took down the words of the priests in their own tongue, and at a date when their knowledge was not dimmed or distorted by Christian teaching. Something may also be learned from Tezozomoc, a native chronicler, and others.

From these it appear that the Aztecs held that after death the souls of all people pass downward into the under-world, to the place called _Mictlan_. This is translated by the missionaries as “hell” or “inferno,” but by derivation it means simply “the place of the slain,” from an active verb meaning “to kill.”

To explain this further, I add that in all primitive American tribes, there is no notion of natural death. No man “dies,” he is always “killed.” Death as a necessary incident in the course of nature is entirely unknown to them. When a person dies by disease, they suppose he has been killed by some sorcery, or some unknown venomous creature.

The journey to Mictlan was long and perilous. The soul first passed through a narrow defile between two mountains which touched each other, where it was liable to be crushed; it then reached a path by which lay in wait a serpent; next was a spot where a huge green lizard whose name was “The Flower of Heat,” was concealed. After this, eight deserts stretched their wild wastes, and beyond these, eight steep hills reared their toilsome sides into the region of snow. Over their summits blew a wind so keen that it was called “The Wind of Knives.” Much did the poor soul suffer, exposed to this bitter cold, unless many coats of cotton and other clothing were burnt upon his tomb for use at this lofty pass.

These hills descended, the shivering ghost reached the river called “By the Nine Waters.” It was broad, and deep, and swift. Little chance had the soul of crossing its dark current, was the aid for this purpose forgotten during life, or by the mourners. This aid was a dog, of the species trained by the Aztecs and held in high esteem by them.

But the dog must be of a particular color; white would not answer, else he would say, when brought to the brink, “As for me, I am already washed.” Black would fail as much, for the animal would say, “I am too black myself to help another wash.” The only color was red, and for this reason great numbers of reddish curs were fostered by the Aztecs, and one was sacrificed at each funeral. Clinging to it, the soul crossed the river and reached the further brink in safety, being purged and cleansed in the transit of all that would make it unfit for the worlds beyond.

These worlds were threefold. One was called “The nine Abodes of the Dead,” where the ordinary mass of mankind were said to go and forever abide. The second was paradise, Tlalocan, the dwelling-place of the Tlalocs, the gods of fertility and rain. It was full of roses and fruits. No pain was there, and no sorrow. Scorching heat and cold were alike unknown. Green fields, rippling brooks, balmy airs and perpetual joy, filled the immortal days of the happy souls in Tlalocan. Those who were destined for its Elysian years were divinely designated by the diseases or accidents of which they died. These were of singular variety. All struck by lightning or wounded, the leprous, the gouty, the dropsical, and what at first sight seems curious, all those who died of the forms of venereal diseases, were believed to pass directly to this Paradise.

The third and highest reward was reserved for the brave who died upon the field of battle, or, as captives, perished by the malice of public enemies, and for women who died in childbirth. These went to the sun in the sky, and dwelt up in the bright heavens. After four years they returned to earth, and under the form of bright-plumaged singing birds rejoiced the hearts of men, and were again spectators of human life.

In this Aztec doctrine the ruler of the underworld is spoken of as _Mictlantecutli_, which the obtuse missionaries persistently render as the devil.

The name means simply “Lord of the Abode of the Slain,” or of the dead. In several of myths he is brought into close relation with the Aztec national hero-god, Quetzalcoatl.

Like Osiris, Quetzalcoatl was said to be absent, to have gone away to the home of the sun, that home where the sun rests at night. More specifically, this was said to be under the earth, and it was spoken of as a place of delights, like Tlalocan. Its name was _Cincalco_, which means the House of Abundance; for no want, no dearth, no hunger and no suffering, were known there. With him dwelt the souls of his disciples and the Toltecs, his people, and at some day or other he and they would return to claim the land and to restore it to its pristine state of perfection.

The thoughts in these faiths which I have described are the same. In each of them the supposed history of the destiny of the soul follows that of the sun and the stars. In all of them the spirits are believed to descend into or under the surface of the earth, and then, after a certain lapse of time, some fortunate ones are released to rise like the orbs of light into the heavens above.

Striking analogies exist among them all. The river which in each flows through the underworld, is nothing else than the great world-stream which in the primitive geography of every nation is believed to surround the habitable land, and beyond which the sun sinks at night. To reach the abode of the sun in the west this river must be crossed.

The numbers 4 and 8 which occur in the Egyptian and Aztec geography of the underworld, are relics of the sacredness attached to the cardinal points.

The ruler of the realm of shadows is not a malevolent being. Osiris, Hades or Pluto, Mictlantecutli, Quetzalcoatl, all originally represented the sun in its absence, and none of them in any way corresponds to the mediæval or modern notion of the devil. As Osiris, who is unquestionably the departed Sun-god, was represented with heavy and braided hair, so his Aztec correlative was also named _Tzontemoc_, which means, he of the abundant falling hair. In each case the analogy was to the long slanting rays of the setting sun.

The role of the dog in these myths is a curious one. He appears as a guardian and preserver. Even Cerberus is good to the good soul. It has been argued by the eminent Sanscrit antiquary Rajendalala, in his late volume on the Indo-Aryans, that this is a reminiscence of an ancient custom of throwing the dead bodies to the dogs to be consumed, rather than have them decay. This to me is not a very satisfactory explanation, but I have none other to offer in its place, and I therefore merely call attention to this singular similarity of notions.

Though I have confined my comparison to these three ancient nations, you would err widely if you imagine that it is for lack of material to extend it. I could easily summon numberless other analogies from classic, from Persian, from Turanian, from Semitic sources, to show that these notions were almost universal to the race of man.

They carried themselves into early Christian teachings, and to-day the wording of this ancient Sun-myth is repeated in most of the churches of Christendom. We have but to mention the “river of death” which is supposed to limit human life; we have but to look at the phraseology of the Nicene Symbol, where it is said that Christ “descended into hell (Hades),” and after three days rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, to see how persistently the old ideas have retained their sway over the religious sentiments and expressions of man.

THE SACRED SYMBOLS IN AMERICA.[172]

What I am about to say is, to a certain degree, polemical. My intention is to combat the opinions of those writers who, like Dr. Hamy, M. Beauvois and many others,[173] assert that because certain well-known Oriental symbols, as the Ta Ki, the Triskeles, the Svastika and the Cross, are found among the American aborigines, they are evidence of Mongolian, Buddhistic, Christian or Aryan immigrations, previous to the discovery by Columbus; and I shall also try to show that the position is erroneous of those who, like William H. Holmes, of the Bureau of Ethnology, maintain that “it is impossible to give a satisfactory explanation of the religious significance of the cross as a religious symbol in America.”[174]

In opposition to both these views I propose to show that the primary significance of all these widely extended symbols is quite clear; and that they can be shown to have arisen from certain fixed relations of man to his environment, the same everywhere, and hence suggesting the same graphic representations among tribes most divergent in location and race; and, therefore, that such symbols are of little value in tracing ethnic affinities or the currents of civilization; but of much import in investigating the expressions of the religious feelings.

Their wide prevalence in the Old World is familiar to all students. The three legs diverging from one centre, which is now the well-known arms of the Isle of Man, is the ancient _Triquetrum_, or, as Olshausen more properly terms it, the _Triskeles_,[175] seen on the oldest Sicilian coins and on those of Lycia, in Asia Minor, struck more than five hundred years before the beginning of our era. Yet, such is the persistence of symbolic forms, the traveler in the latter region still finds it recurring on the modern felt wraps used by the native inhabitants.[176] As a decorative motive, or perhaps with a deeper significance, it is repeatedly found on ancient Slavic and Teutonic vases, disinterred from mounds of the bronze age, or earlier, in Central and Northern Europe. Frequently the figure is simply that of three straight or curved lines springing from a central point and surrounded by a circle, as:

FIG. 1.
]

FIG. 2.
]

In the latter we have the precise form of the Chinese Ta Ki, a symbolic figure which plays a prominent part in the mystical writing, the divination and the decorative art of China.[177]

As it is this symbol which, according to Dr. Hamy, the distinguished ethnologist and Director of the Museum of the Trocadero, Paris, indicates the preaching of Buddhistic doctrines in America, it merits close attention.

The Ta Ki, expressed by the signs:

FIG. 3.
]

is properly translated, “The Great Uniter” (_ta_, great; _ki_, to join together, to make one, to unite); as in modern Chinese philosophy, expressed in Platonic language, the One is distinguished from the Many, and is regarded as the basis of the numerical system. But as the Chinese believe in the mystic powers of numbers, and as that which reduces all multiplicity to unity naturally controls or is the summit of all things, therefore the Ta Ki expresses the completest and highest creative force.

In Chinese philosophy, the Universe is made up of opposites, heaven and earth, light and darkness, day and night, land and water, concave and convex, male and female, etc., the highest terms for which are _Yin_ and _Yang_. These are held to be brought into fructifying union by Ta Ki. Abstractly, the latter would be regarded as the synthesis of the two universal antitheses which make up all phenomena.[178]

The symbolic representation of Yin and Yang is a circle divided by two arcs with opposite centres, while the symbol of Ta Ki adds a third arc from above uniting these two.

FIG. 4.
]

FIG. 5.
]

It is possible that these symbols are of late origin, devised to express the ideas above named. One Chinese scholar (Mr. S. Culin) tells me that it is doubtful if they occur earlier than the twelfth century, A. D., and that they were probably introduced for purposes of divination. In this case, I believe that they were introduced from the South, and that they originally had another and concrete significance, as I shall explain later.

Others consider these symbols as essentially Mongolian. The Ta Ki or Triskeles is to them the Mongolian, while the Svastika is the ethnic Aryan symbol. Such writers suspect Indo-European immigration where they discover the latter, Chinese immigration were they find the former emblem.

The Svastika, I need hardly say, is the hooked cross or gammated cross, usually represented as follows:

FIG. 6.
]

the four arms of equal length, the hook usually pointing from left to right. In this form it occurs in India and on very early (neolithic) Greco-Italic and Iberian remains. So much has been written upon the Svastika, however, that I need not enter upon its archæological distribution.

Its primary significance has been variously explained. Some have regarded it as a graphic representation of the lightning, others as of the two fire-sticks used in obtaining fire by friction, and so on.

Whatever its significance, we are safe in considering it a form of the Cross, and in its special form obtaining its symbolic or sacred association from this origin.

The widely-spread mystic purport of the Cross symbol has long been matter of comment. Undoubtedly in many parts of America the natives regarded it with reverence anterior to the arrival of Europeans; as in the Old World it was long a sacred symbol before it became the distinctive emblem of Christianity.

As in previous writings I have brought together the evidence of the veneration in which it was held in America, I shall not repeat the references here.

I believe we may go a step further and regard all three of these symbols, the Ta Ki or Triskeles, the Svastika, and the Cross as originally the same in signification, or, at least, closely allied in meaning. I believe, further, that this can be shown from the relics of ancient American art so clearly that no one, free from prejudice, and whose mind is open to conviction, will deny its correctness.

My theory is that all of the symbols are graphic representations of the movements of the sun with reference to the figure of the earth, as understood by primitive man everywhere, and hence that these symbols are found in various parts of the globe without necessarily implying any historic connections of the peoples using them.

This explanation of them is not entirely new. It has previously been partly suggested by Professors Worsaae and Virchow; but the demonstration I shall offer has not heretofore been submitted to the scientific world, and its material is novel.

Beginning with the Ta Ki, we find its primary elements in the symbolic picture-writing of the North American Indians. In that of the Ojibways, for example, we have the following three characters:

FIG. 7.
]

FIG. 8.
]

FIG. 9.
]

Of these, the Fig. 7 represents the sunrise; Fig. 9, sunset; Fig. 8, noonday. The last-mentioned is the full day at its height.[179] Where, in rock-writing or scratching on wood, the curve could not conveniently be used, straight lines would be adopted:

FIG. 10.
]

thus giving the ordinary form of the Triskeles. But the identical form of the Ta Ki is found in the calendar scroll attached to the Codex-Poinsett, an unpublished original Mexican MS., on agave paper, in the library of the American Philosophical Society. A line from this scroll is as follows:

FIG. 11.
]

Here each circle means a day, and those with the Triskeles, culminating days.[180]

Another form of representing days is seen in the Vatican Mexican Codex, published in Kingsborough’s _Mexico_, Vol. iii:

FIG. 12.
]

This is not far from the figure on the stone at Copan, described in Dr. Hamy’s paper, where the design is as follows:

FIG. 13.
]

This does not resemble the Ta Ki, as Dr. Hamy supposes, but rather the Yin-Yang; yet differs from this in having a central circle (apparently a cup-shaped depression). This central circular figure, whether a boss or nave, or a cup-shaped pit, has been explained by Worsaae as a conventionalized form of the sun, and in this he is borne out by primitive American art, as we shall see. The twenty elevations which surround the stone, corresponding in number to the twenty days of the Maya month, indicate at once that we have here to do with a monument relating to the calendar.

Turning now to the development of this class of figures in primitive American art, I give first the simplest representations of the sun, such as those painted on buffalo skins by the Indians of the Plains, and scratched on the surface of rocks. The examples are selected from many of the kind published by Col. Garrick Mallery.[181]

FIG. 14.
]

The design is merely a rude device of the human face, with four rays proceeding from it at right angles. These four rays represent, according to the unanimous interpretation of the Indians, the four directions defined by the apparent motions of the sun, the East and West, the North and South. By these directions all travel and all alignments of buildings, corpses, etc., were defined; and hence the earth was regarded as four-sided or four-cornered; or, when it was expressed as a circle, in accordance with the appearance of the visible horizon, the four radia were drawn as impinging on its four sides:

FIG. 15.
]

FIG. 16.
]

Fig. 15 is a design on a vase from Maraja, Brazil, and is of common occurrence on the pottery of that region.[182] Fig. 16 represents the circle of the visible horizon, or the earth-plain, with the four winds rushing into it when summoned by a magician. It is a figure from the Meday Magic of the Ojibways.[183] Dr. Ferraz de Macedo has claimed that such devices as Fig. 16 “show Chinese or Egyptian inspiration.”[184] It is certainly unnecessary to accept this alternative when both the origin and significance of the symbol are so plain in native American art.

When the symbol of the sun and the four directions was inscribed within the circle of the visible horizon, we obtain the figure representing the motions pf the sun with reference to the earth, as in:

FIG. 17.
]

This is what German archæologists call the wheel-cross, _Radkreuz_, distinguished, as Worsaae pointed out, by the presence of the central boss, cup or nave, from the ring-cross, _Ringkreuz_, Fig. 18:

FIG. 18.
]

FIG. 19.
]

in which, also, the arms of the cross do not reach to the circumference of the wheel. Worsaae very justly laid much stress on the presence of the central boss or cup, and correctly explained it as indicative of the sun; but both he and Virchow, who followed him in this explanation, are, I think, in error in supposing that the circle or wheel represents the rolling sun, _die rollende Sonne_. My proof of this is that this same figure was a familiar symbol, with the signification stated, in tribes who did not know the mechanical device of the wheel, and could have had, therefore, no notion of such an analogy as the rolling wheel of the sun.[185]

When applied to time, the symbol of the circle in primitive art referred to the return of the seasons, not to an idea of motion in space. This is very plainly seen both in art and language. In the year-counts or winter-counts of the American tribes, the years were very generally signified by circles arranged in rows or spirals. Fig. 20 shows the Dakota winter-count, as depicted on their buffalo robes.[186]

FIG. 20.
]

This count is to be read from right to left, because it is written from left to right, and hence the year last recorded is at the end of the line.

Precisely similar series of circles occur on the Aztec and Maya codices, with the same signification. Moreover, the year-cycles of both these nations were represented by a circle on the border of which the years were inscribed. In Maya this was called _uazlazon katun_, the turning about again, or revolution of the katuns.[187]

The Aztec figure of the year-cycle is so instructive that I give a sketch of its principal elements (Fig. 21), as portrayed in the atlas to Duran’s History of Mexico.[188]

FIG. 21.
]

In this remarkable figure we observe the development and primary signification of those world-wide symbols, the square, the cross, the wheel, the circle, and the svastika. The last-mentioned is seen in the elements of the broken circle, which are:

FIG. 22.
]

These, conventionalized into rectilinear figures for scratching on stone or wood, became:

FIG. 23.
]

In the Mexican time-wheel, the years are to be read from right to left, as in the Dakota winter-counts; each of the quarter circles represents thirteen years; and these, also, are to be read from right to left, beginning with the top of the figure, which is the East, and proceeding to the North, South and West, as indicated.

The full analysis of this suggestive and authentic astronomical figure will reveal the secret of most of the rich symbolism and mythology of the American nations. It is easy to see how from it was derived the Nahuatl doctrine of the _nahua ollin_, or Four Motions of the Sun, with its accessories of the Four Ages of the world. The Tree of Life, so constantly recurring as a design in Maya and Mexican art, is but another outgrowth of the same symbolic expression for the same ideas.

That we find the same figurative symbolism in China, India, Lycia, Assyria and the valley of the Nile, and on ancient urns from Etruria, Iberia, Gallia, Sicilia and Scythia, needs not surprise us, and ought not to prompt us to assert any historic connection on this account between the early development of man in the New and Old World. The path of culture is narrow, especially in its early stages, and men everywhere have trodden unconsciously in each other’s footsteps in advancing from the darkness of barbarism to the light of civilization.

THE FOLK-LORE OF YUCATAN.[189]

Yucatan presents a strange spectacle to the ethnologist. The native race, which in nearly every other part of the American continent has disappeared before the white invaders or else become their acknowledged inferior, has there gained the upper hand. The native language has ousted the Spanish to that extent that whole villages of whites speak Maya only, and the fortunes of war in the last generation have sided so much with the native braves that they have regained undisputed possession of by far the larger part of the peninsula.

Is there to be recognized in this a revival of that inherent energy which prompted their ancestors to the construction of the most remarkable specimens of native architecture on the continent, and to the development of a ripe social and political fabric?

It can scarcely be doubted; but, however that may be, such considerations cannot fail to excite our interest in all that relates to a race of such plucky persistence.

As throwing a side-light on their mental constitution, their superstitions and folk-lore merit attention. I happen to have some material on this which has never been published, and some more which has only appeared in mediums quite inaccessible even to diligent students. Of the former are a manuscript by the Licentiate Zetina of Tabasco, a native of Tihosuco, and some notes on the subject by Don Jose Maria Lopez, of Merida, and the late Dr. Carl Hermann Berendt; while of the latter a report by Don Bartholomé Granado de Baeza, _cura_ of Yaxcabá, written in 1813, and an article of later date by the learned cura, Estanislao Carrillo, are particularly noteworthy.[190] From these sources I have gathered what I here present, arranging and studying the facts they give with the aid of several dictionaries of the tongue in my possession.

These Mayas, as the natives called themselves, were converted at the epoch of the conquest (about 1550) to Christianity in that summary way which the Spaniards delighted in. If they would not be baptized they were hanged or drowned; and, once baptized, they were flogged if they did not attend mass, and burned if they slid back to idol-worship. They were kept in the densest ignorance, for fear they should learn enough to doubt. Their alleged Christianity was therefore their ancient heathenism under a new name, and brought neither spiritual enlightenment nor intellectual progress. As a recent and able historian of Yucatan has said, “the only difference was that the natives were changed from pagan idolaters to Christian idolaters.”[191]

To this day the belief in sorcerers, witchcraft and magic is as strong as it ever was, and in various instances the very same rites are observed as those which we know from early authors obtained before the conquest.

The diviner is called _h’men_, a male personal form of the verb _men_, to understand, to do. He is one who knows, and who accomplishes. His main instrument is the _zaztun_, “the clear stone” (_zaz_, clear, transparent; _tun_, stone). This is a quartz crystal or other translucent stone, which has been duly sanctified by burning before it gum copal as an incense, and by the solemn recital of certain magic formulas in an archaic dialect passed down from the wise ancients. It is thus endowed with the power of reflecting the past and future, and the soothsayer gazes into its clear depths and sees where lost articles may be recovered, learns what is happening to the absent, and by whose witchery sickness and disaster have come upon those who call in his skill. There is scarcely a village in Yucatan without one of these wondrous stones.

The wise men have also great influence over the growing crops, and in this direction their chiefest power is exercised. By a strange mixture of Christian and pagan superstition, they are called in to celebrate the _misa milpera_, the “field mass” (_misa_, Spanish, “mass”; _milpera_, a word of Aztec derivation, from _milpa_, “cornfield”). In the native tongue this is called the _tich_, which means the offering or sacrifice. It is a distinct survival of a rite mentioned by Diego de Landa, one of the earliest bishops of the diocese of Yucatan.[192]

The ceremony is as follows: On a sort of altar constructed of sticks of equal length the native priest places a fowl, and, having thrown on its beak some of the fermented liquor of the country, the _pitarrilla_, he kills it, and his assistants cook and serve it with certain maize cakes of large size and special preparation. When the feast is ready, the priest approaches the table, dips a branch of green leaves into a jar of _pitarrilla_, and asperges the four cardinal points, at the same time calling on the three persons of the Christian Trinity, and the sacred four of his own ancient religion, the _Pah ah tun_. These mysterious beings were before the conquest and to this day remain in the native belief the gods of rain, and hence of fertility. They are identical with the winds, and the four cardinal points from which they blow. To each is sacred a particular color, and in modern times each has been identified with a saint in the Catholic calendar. Thus Father Baeza tells us that the red Pahahtun is placed at the East, and is known as Saint Dominic; to the North the white one, who is Saint Gabriel; the black, toward the West, is Saint James; the yellow is toward the South, and is a female, called in the Maya tongue _X’Kanleox_, “the yellow goddess,” and bears the Christian name of Mary Magdalen.

The name _Pahahtun_ is of difficult derivation, but it probably means “stone, or pillar, set up or erected,” and this tallies quite exactly with a long description of the ancient rites connected with the worship of these important divinities in the old times. There are some discrepancies in the colors assigned the different points of the compass, but this appears to have varied considerably among the Central American nations, though many of them united in having some such symbolism. A curious study of it has been made by the well-known archæologist, the Count de Charencey.[193]

The invocation to these four points of the compass in its modern form was fortunately obtained and preserved in the original tongue by that indefatigable student, the late Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg, while on a visit to the plantation of Xcanchakan, in the interior of Yucatan.[194] The translation of it runs as follows:—

“At the rising of the Sun, Lord of the East, my word goes forth to the four corners of the heaven, to the four corners of the earth, in the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.

“When the clouds rise in the east, when he comes who sets in order the thirteen forms of the clouds, the yellow lord of the hurricane, the hope of the lords to come, he who rules the preparation of the divine liquor, he who loves the guardian spirits of the fields, then I pray to him for his precious favor; for I trust all in the hands of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.”

Such is an example of the strange mixture of heathen and Christian superstition which has been the outcome of three centuries of so-called Christian instruction!

There still continue to be relics of an ancient form of fire-worship which once prevailed commonly throughout the peninsula. The missionaries refer to it as “the festival of fire,”[195] but the exact rites performed were so carefully concealed that we have no description of them. That they are not yet out of date is apparent from a copy of a native calendar for 1841–2, obtained by Mr. Stephens when in Yucatan. In it the days are marked as lucky or unlucky, and against certain ones such entries are made as “now the burner lights his fire,” “the burner gives his fire scope,” “the burner takes his fire,” “the burner puts out his fire.” This burner, _ah toc_, is the modern representative of the ancient priest of the fire, and we find a few obscure references to an important rite, the _tupp kak_, extinction of the fire, which was kept up long after the conquest, and probably is still celebrated in the remoter villages. The sacred fire in ancient Maya land is said to have been guarded by chosen virgins, and it appears in some way to have been identified with the force which gives life to the animal and vegetable world.

Another of the modern ceremonies which is imbued with the old notion, common to them as to all primitive people, of a soul with material wants, is that called “the feast of the food of the soul.” Small cakes are made of the flesh of hens and pounded maize, and are baked in an underground oven. Of these as many are placed on the altar of the church as the person making the offering has deceased relatives for whose well-being he is solicitous. These cakes are called _hanal pixan_, “the food of the soul.” Evidently they are intended to represent the nourishment destined for the soul on its journey through the shadowy lands of death.

Along with these there are many minor superstitions connected especially with the growth of crops and fruits. Thus it is widely believed that the fruit known as the white zapote (_Sapota achras_, in Maya, _choch_) will not ripen of itself. One must tap it lightly several times as it approaches maturity, repeating the formula:

_Hoken, chechè; ocen, takan_:
Depart, greenness: enter, ripeness.

The owl is looked upon as an uncanny bird, presaging death or disease, if it alights on or even flies over a house. Another bird, the _cox_, a species of pheasant, is said to predict the approach of high northerly winds, when it calls loudly and frequently in the woods; though this, according to one writer, is not so much a superstition as an observation of nature, and is usually correct.

A singular ceremony is at times performed to prevent the death of those who are sick. The dread being who in mediæval symbolism was represented by a skeleton, is known to the Mayas as _Yum Cimil_, Lord of Death. He is supposed to lurk around a house where a person is ill, ready to enter and carry off his life when opportunity offers. He is, however, willing to accept something in lieu thereof, and to bring about this result the natives perform the rite called _kex_, or “barter.” They hang jars and nets containing food and drink on the trees around the house, repeating certain invocations, and they believe that often the Lord of Death will be satisfied with these, and thus allow the invalid to recover.

Those diviners to whom I have alluded are familiarly known as _Tat Ich_, Daddy Face, and _Tata Polin_, Daddy Head, a reference, I suspect, to a once familiar name of a chief divinity, _Kin ich_, the face (or eye) of the day, _i. e._ the Sun.

A power universally ascribed to these magicians is that of transforming themselves into beasts. Were it not for so many examples of delusions in enlightened lands, it would be difficult to explain the unquestioning belief which prevails on this subject throughout Central America. Father Baeza relates that one of these old sorcerers declared in a dying confession that he had repeatedly changed himself into various wild beasts. The English priest, Thomas Gage, who had a cure in Guatemala about 1630, tells with all seriousness a number of such instances. Even in our own days the learned Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg is not entirely satisfied that animal magnetism, ventriloquism, and such trickery, can explain the mysteries of _nagualism_, as the Central American system of the black arts is termed. He is not certain that we ought to exclude the assistance of the invisible diabolic agencies![196]

The sacred books of the Quiches, a tribe living in Guatemala related to the Mayas, ascribe this power to one of their most celebrated kings. As an illustration the passage is worth quoting:

“Truly this Gucumatz became a wonderful king. Every seven days he ascended to the sky, and every seven days he followed the path to the abode of the dead; every seven days he put on the nature of a serpent and he became truly a serpent; every seven days he put on the nature of an eagle and again of a tiger, and he became truly an eagle and a tiger; every seven days also he put on the nature of coagulated blood, and then he was nothing else but coagulated blood.”[197]

Men and women alike might possess this magic power. This is shown in a curious little native story heard by Dr. Berendt in the wilds of Yucatan from a Maya woman, who told it to prove the value of _salt_ as a counter-charm to the machinations of these mysterious beings. The doctor wrote it down with scrupulous fidelity, and added a verbal translation. As it has never been published, and as it is at once an interesting bit of authentic folk-lore and a valuable example of the Maya language, I give it here in the original tongue with a literal, interlinear translation:—

A MAYA WITCH STORY.

Huntu hxib tsoocubel yetel huntul xchup; ma tu yoheltah uaix
A man married with a woman; not did he know (her) as

uay. Hunpe kin tu yalahti: “Huche capel mut tabb.” Tu a witch. One day he said to her: “Mix two measures (of) salt.” She

huchah paibe, ca tu katah: “Baax tial tech?” Hunpel akab mix’d (them) first, then she asked: “Why this (wishest) thou?” One night

pixaan hxibe ca tu yilah u hokol u yatan. Ca tu chaah u mazcabe woke the man and he saw go out his wife. Then he took his axe

ca tu mucul thulbelah tu pach ti kax. Ca kuchioob ti chichan and secretly followed behind (her) to the wood. When they arrived at a little

chakan, yau u zazil uh, ca tu mucuba hxib tu booy nohoch meadow, there being a bright moon, then hid himself the man in the shade of a great

yaxche. Ca tu pucah u nok xchup tu pach, uaan xmabuc tu seiba tree. Then threw her garments the woman behind (her), standing naked in the

tan uh: ca tu sipah u yothel, ca culhi chembac. Ca face of the moon: then she stripped off her skin, and remained mere bones. Then

naci ti caan. Ca emi tucaten, ca tu yalahi: “Zazaba she rose to the sky. When she came down again, then she said to him: “Wouldst thou

xtac caan?” Hemac ma uchuc u nacal tucaten, tumen tu thootal reach to the sky?” But not could she ascend again, because of the throwing

taab. (of) salt.

To the Maya, the woods, the air, and the darkness are filled with mysterious beings who are ever ready to do him injury or service, but generally injury, as the greater number of these creations of his fancy are malevolent sprites.

Of those which are well disposed, the most familiar are the _Balams_ (Maya, _Hbalamob_, masculine plural form of _balam_). This word is the common name of the American tiger, and as a title of distinction was applied to a class of priests and to kings. The modern notions of the Balams are revealed to us by the Licentiate Zetina of Tihosuco, in his manuscripts to which I have previously referred.

He tells us that these beings are supposed to be certain very ancient men who take charge of and guard the towns. One stands north of the town, a second south, a third east, and the fourth to the west. They are usually not visible during the day, and if one does see them it is a sign of approaching illness, which suggests that it is the disordered vision of some impending tropical fever which may occasionally lead to the belief in their apparition.

At night the Balams are awake and vigilant, and prevent many an accident from befalling the village, such as violent rains, tornadoes, and pestilential diseases. They summon each other by a loud, shrill whistle; and, though without wings, they fly through the air with the swiftness of a bird. Occasionally they have desperate conflicts with the evil powers who would assail the town. The signs of these nocturnal struggles are seen the next day in trees broken down and uprooted, the ground torn up, and large stones split and thrown around.

Another of their duties is to protect the corn-fields or _milpas_. It seems probable, from comparing the authorities before me, that the Balams in this capacity are identical with the _Pa ahtuns_, whom I have referred to above, and that both are lineal descendants of those agricultural deities of the ancient Mayas, the _Chac_ or _Bacab_, which are described by Bishop Landa and others. No Indian on the peninsula neglects to propitiate the Balam with a suitable offering at the time of corn-planting. Were he so negligent as to forget it, the crop would wither for lack of rain or otherwise be ruined.

An instance of this is told by Señor Zetina. An Indian near Tihosuco had paid no attention to the usual offering, perhaps being infected with evil modern skeptical views. His crop grew fairly; and as the ears were about ripening he visited his field to examine them. As he approached he saw with some dismay a tall man among the stalks with a large basket over his shoulders, in which he threw the ripening ears as fast as he could pluck them. The Indian saluted him hesitatingly. The stranger replied, “I am here gathering in that which I sent.” Resting from his work, he drew from his pocket an immense cigar, and, taking out a flint and steel, began to strike a light. But the sparks he struck were flashes of lightning, and the sound of his blows was terrible thunderclaps which shook the very earth. The poor Indian fell to the ground unconscious with fright; and when he came to himself a hail-storm had destroyed his corn, and as soon as he reached home he himself was seized with a fever which nigh cost him his life.

The Balams are great smokers, and it is a general belief among the Indians that the shooting stars are nothing else than the stumps of the huge cigars thrown down the sky by these giant beings.

Sometimes they carry off children for purposes of their own. When Dr. Berendt was exploring the east coast of Yucatan he was told of such an occurrence on the Island of San Pedro, north of Belize. A little boy of four years wandered to some cacao bushes not more than fifty yards from the house, and there all trace of him was lost. There was no sign of wolf or tiger, no footprint of kidnapper. They sought him the whole day in vain, and then gave up the search, for they knew what had happened—the Balam had taken him!

The Balams have also the reputation of inculcating a respect for the proprieties of life. Zetina tells this story which he heard among his native friends: One day an Indian and his wife went to their corn-patch to gather ears. The man left the field to get some water, and his wife threw off the gown she wore lest it should be torn, and was naked. Suddenly she heard some one call to her in a loud voice, _Pixe avito, xnoh cizin_, which Zetina translates literally into Spanish, _Tapa ta culo, gran diablo!_ At the same time she received two smart blows with a cane. She turned and beheld a tall man with a long beard, and a gown which reached to his feet. This was the Balam. He gave her two more smart blows on the part of the person to which he had referred, and then disappeared; but the marks of the four blows remained as long as she lived.

It is vain to attempt to persuade the Indian that such notions are false and cannot be facts. He will not try to reason with you. He contents himself with a patient gesture and the despairing exclamation, _Bix ma hahal?_ “How can it be otherwise than true?” (_Bix_, how, _ma_, not, _hahal_, true.)

These Balams are in fact the gods of the cardinal points and of the winds and rains which proceed from them, and are thus a survival of some of the central figures of the ancient mythology. The wind still holds its pre-eminence as a supernatural occurrence in the native mind. One day Dr. Berendt was traveling with some natives through the forests when the sound of a tropical tornado was heard approaching with its formidable roar through the trees. In awe-struck accents one of his guides said, “_He catal nohoch yikal nohoch tat_: Here comes the mighty wind of the Great Father.” But it is only in an unguarded moment that in the presence of a white man the Indian betrays his beliefs, and no questioning could elicit further information. A hint is supplied by Señor Zetina. He mentions that the whistling of the wind is called, or attributed to, _tat acmo_, words which mean Father Strong-bird. This suggests many analogies from the mythologies of other races; for the notion of the primeval bird, at once lord of the winds and father of the race, is found in numerous American tribes, and is distinctly contained in the metaphors of the first chapter of Genesis.