THE BOOKS OF CHILAN BALAM.[236]

Civilization in ancient America rose to its highest level among the Mayas of Yucatan. Not to speak of the architectural monuments which still remain to attest this, we have the evidence of the earliest missionaries to the fact that they alone, of all the natives of the New World, possess a literature written in “letters and characters,” preserved in volumes neatly bound, the paper manufactured from the material derived from fibrous plants, and sized with a durable white varnish.[237]

A few of these books still remain, preserved to us by accident in the great European libraries; but most of them were destroyed by the monks. Their contents were found to relate chiefly to the pagan ritual, to traditions of the heathen times, to astrological superstitions, and the like. Hence, they were considered deleterious, and were burned wherever discovered.

This annihilation of their sacred books affected the natives most keenly, as we are pointedly informed by Bishop Landa, himself one of the most ruthless of Vandals in this respect.[238]But already some of the more intelligent had learned the Spanish alphabet, and the missionaries had added a sufficient number of signs to it to express with tolerable accuracy the phonetics of the Maya tongue. Relying on their memories, and no doubt aided by some manuscripts secretly preserved, many natives set to work to write out in this new alphabet the contents of their ancient records. Much was added which had been brought in by the Europeans, and much omitted which had become unintelligible or obsolete since the Conquest; while, of course, the different writers, varying in skill and knowledge, produced works of very various merit.

Nevertheless, each of these books bore the same name.In whatever village it was written, or by whatever hand, it always was, and to-day still is, called “The Book of Chilan Balam.” To distinguish them apart, the name of the village where a copy was found or written, is added. Probably, in the last century, almost every village had one, which was treasured with superstitious veneration. But the opposition of thepadresto this kind of literature, the decay of ancient sympathies, and especially the long war of races, which since 1847 has desolated so much of the peninsula, have destroyed most of them. There remain, however, either portions or descriptions of not less than sixteen of these curious records. They are known from the names of the villages respectively as the Book of Chilan Balam of Nabula, of Chumayel, of Káua, of Mani, of Oxkutzcab, of Ixil, of Tihosuco, of Tixcocob, etc., these being the names of various native towns in the peninsula.

When I add that not a single one of these has ever been printed, or even entirely translated into any European tongue, it will be evident to every archæologist and linguist what a rich and unexplored mine of information about this interesting people they may present. It is my intention in this article merely to touch upon a few salient points to illustrate this, leaving a thorough discussion of their origin and contents to the future editor who will bring them to the knowledge of the learned world.

Turning first to the meaning of the name “Chilan Balam,” it is not difficult to find its derivation. “Chilan,” says Bishop Landa, the second bishop of Yucatan, whose description of the native customs is an invaluable source to us, “was the name of their priests, whose duty it was toteach the sciences, to appoint holy days, to treat the sick, to offer sacrifices, and especially to utter the oracles of the gods. They were so highly honored by the people that usually they were carried on litters on the shoulders of the devotees.”[239]Strictly speaking, in Maya “chilan” means “interpreter,” “mouth-piece,” from “chij,” “the mouth,” and in this ordinary sense frequently occurs in other writings. The word, “balam”—literally, “tiger,”—was also applied to a class of priests, and is still in use among the natives of Yucatan as the designation of the protective spirits of fields and towns, as I have shown at length in a previous study of the word as it occurs in the native myths of Guatemala.[240]“Chilan Balam,” therefore, is not a proper name, but a title, and in ancient times designated the priest who announced the will of the gods and explained the sacred oracles. This accounts for the universality of the name and the sacredness of its associations.

The dates of the books which have come down to us are various. One of them, “The Book of Chilan Balam of Mani,” was undoubtedly composed not later than 1595, as is proved by internal evidence. Various passages in theworks of Landa, Lizana, Sanchez Aguilar and Cogolludo—all early historians of Yucatan—prove that many of these native manuscripts existed in the sixteenth century. Several rescripts date from the seventeenth century,—most from the latter half of the eighteenth.

The names of the writers are generally not given, probably because the books, as we have them, are all copies of older manuscripts, with merely the occasional addition of current items of note by the copyist; as, for instance, a malignant epidemic which prevailed in the peninsula in 1673 is mentioned as a present occurrence by the copyist of “The Book of Chilan Balam of Nabula.”

I come now to the contents of these curious works. What they contain may conveniently be classified under four headings:

The last-mentioned consist of translations of the “Doctrina,” Bible stories, narratives of events after the Conquest, etc., which I shall dismiss as of least interest.

The astrology appears partly to be reminiscences of that of their ancient heathendom, partly that borrowed from the European almanacs of the century 1550–1650. These, as is well known, were crammed with predictions and divinations. A careful analysis, based on a comparison with the Spanish almanacs of that time, would doubtless reveal how much was taken from them, and it would be fair to presume that the remainder was a survival of ancient native theories.

But there are not wanting actual prophecies of a much more striking character. These were attributed to the ancient priests and to a date long preceding the advent of Christianity. Some of them have been printed in translations in the “Historias” of Lizana and Cogolludo, and of some the originals were published by the late Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg, in the second volume of the reports of the “Mission Scientificque au Mexique et dans l’ Amérique Centrale.” Their authenticity has been met with considerable skepticism by Waitz and others, particularly as they seem to predict the arrival of the Christians from the East and the introduction of the worship of the cross.

It appears to me that this incredulity is uncalled for. It is known that at the close of each of their larger divisions of time (the so-called “katuns,”) a “chilan,” or inspired diviner, uttered a prediction of the character of the year or epoch which was about to begin. Like other would-be prophets, he had doubtless learned that it is wiser to predict evil than good, inasmuch as the probabilities of evil in this worried world of ours outweigh those of good; and when the evil comes his words are remembered to his credit, while if, perchance, his gloomy forecasts are not realized, no one will bear him a grudge that he has been at fault. The temper of this people was, moreover, gloomy, and it suited them to hear of threatened danger and destruction by foreign foes. But, alas! for them. The worst that the boding words of the oracle foretold was as nothing to the dire event which overtook them—the destruction of their nation, their temples and their freedom, ’neath the iron heel of the Spanish conqueror. As the wise Gœthe says:

“Seltsam ist Prophetenlied,Doch mehr seltsam was geschieht.”

“Seltsam ist Prophetenlied,

Doch mehr seltsam was geschieht.”

As to the supposed reference to the cross and its worship, it may be remarked that the native word translated “cross” by the missionaries, simply means “a piece of wood set upright,” and may well have had a different and special signification in the old days.

By way of a specimen of these prophecies, I quote one from “The Book of Chilan Balam of Chumayel,” saying at once that for the translation I have depended upon a comparison of the Spanish version of Lizana, who was blindly prejudiced, and that in French of the Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg, who knew next to nothing about Maya, with the original. It will be easily understood, therefore, that it is rather a paraphrase than a literal rendering. The original is in short, aphoristic sentences, and was, no doubt, chanted with a rude rhythm:

“What time the sun shall brightest shine,Tearful will be the eyes of the king.Four ages yet shall be inscribed,Then shall come the holy priest, the holy god.With grief I speak what now I see.Watch well the road, ye dwellers of Itza.The master of the earth shall come to us.Thus prophesies Nahau Pech, the seer,In the days of the fourth age,At the time of its beginning.”

“What time the sun shall brightest shine,

Tearful will be the eyes of the king.

Four ages yet shall be inscribed,

Then shall come the holy priest, the holy god.

With grief I speak what now I see.

Watch well the road, ye dwellers of Itza.

The master of the earth shall come to us.

Thus prophesies Nahau Pech, the seer,

In the days of the fourth age,

At the time of its beginning.”

Such are the obscure and ominous words of the ancient oracle. If the date is authentic, it would be about 1480—the “fourth age” in the Maya system of computing time beinga period of either twenty or twenty-four years at the close of the fifteenth century.

It is, however, of little importance whether these are accurate copies of the ancient prophecies; they remain, at least, faithful imitations of them, composed in the same spirit and form which the native priests were wont to employ. A number are given much longer than the above, and containing various curious references to ancient usages.

Another value they have in common with all the rest of the text of these books, and it is one which will be properly appreciated by any student of languages. They are, by common consent of all competent authorities, the genuine productions of native minds, cast in the idiomatic forms of the native tongue by those born to its use. No matter how fluent a foreigner becomes in a language not his own, he can never use it as does one who has been familiar with it from childhood. This general maxim is ten-fold true when we apply it to a European learning an American language. The flow of thought, as exhibited in these two linguistic families, is in such different directions that no amount of practice can render one equally accurate in both. Hence the importance of studying a tongue as it is employed by natives; and hence the very high estimate I place on these “Books of Chilan Balam” as linguistic material—an estimate much increased by the great rarity of independent compositions in their own tongues by members of the native races of this continent.

I now approach what I consider the peculiar value of these records, apart from the linguistic mould in which they are cast; and that is the light they throw upon the chronological system and ancient history of the Mayas. To a limitedextent, this has already been brought before the public. The late Don Pio Perez gave to Mr. Stephens, when in Yucatan, an essay on the method of computing time among the ancient Mayas, and also a brief synopsis of Maya history, apparently going back to the third or fourth century of the Christian era. Both were published by Mr. Stephens in the appendix to his “Travels in Yucatan,” and have appeared repeatedly since in English, Spanish and French.[241]They have, up to the present, constituted almost our sole sources of information on these interesting points. Don Pio Perez was rather vague as to whence he derived his knowledge. He refers to “ancient manuscripts,” “old authorities,” and the like; but, as the Abbé Brasseur de Bourbourg justly complains, he rarely quotes their words, and gives no descriptions as to what they were or how he gained access to them.[242]In fact, the whole of Señor Perez’s information was derived from these “Books of Chilan Balam;” and without wishing at all to detract from his reputation as an antiquary and a Maya scholar, I am obliged to say that he has dealt with them as scholars so often do with their authorities; that is, having framed his theories, he quoted what he found in their favor and neglected to refer to what he observed was against them.

Thus, it is a cardinal question in Yucatecan archæology as to whether the epoch or age by which the great cycle (theahau katun,) was reckoned, embraced twenty or twenty-four years. Contrary to all the Spanish authorities, Perez declared for twenty-four years, supporting himself by “the manuscripts.” It is true there are three of the “Books of Chilan Balam”—those of Mani, Káua and Oxkutzcab,—which are distinctly in favor of twenty-four years; but, on the other hand, there are four or five others which are clearly for the period of twenty years, and of these Don Perez said nothing, although copies of more than one of them were in his library. So of the epochs, orkatuns, of Maya history; there are three or more copies in these books which he does not seem to have compared with the one he furnished Stephens. His labor will have to be repeated according to the methods of modern criticism, and with the additional material obtained since he wrote.

Another valuable feature in these records is the hints they furnish of the hieroglyphic system of the Mayas. Almost our only authority heretofore has been the essay of Landa. It has suffered somewhat in credit because we had no means of verifying his statements and comparing the characters he gives. Dr. Valentini has even gone so far as to attack some of his assertions as “fabrications.” This is an amount of skepticism which exceeds both justice and probability.

The chronological portions of the “Books of Chilan Balam” are partly written with the ancient signs of the days, months and epochs, and they furnish us, also, delineations of the “wheels” which the natives used for computing time. The former are so important to the student of Maya hieroglyphics,that I have added photographic reproductions of them to this paper, giving also representations of those of Landa for comparison. It will be observed that the signs of the days are distinctly similar in the majority of cases, but that those of the months are hardly alike.

The hieroglyphs of the days taken from the “Codex Troano,” an ancient Maya book written before the Conquest, probably about 1400, are also added to illustrate the variations which occurred in the hands of different scribes. Those from the “Books of Chilan Balam” are copied from a manuscript known to Maya scholars as the “Codice Perez,” of undoubted authenticity and antiquity.[243]

The result of the comparison I thus institute is a triumphant refutation of the doubts and slurs which have been cast on Bishop Landa’s work, and vindicate for it a very high degree of accuracy.

The hieroglyphics for the months are quite complicated, and in the “Books of Chilan Balam” are rudely drawn; but, for all that, two or three of them are evidently identical with those in the calendar preserved by Landa. Some years ago, Professor de Rosny expressed himself in great doubt as to the fidelity in the tracing of these hieroglyphs of the months, principally because he could not find them in the two codices at his command.[244]As he observes, they arecompositesigns, and this goes to explain the discrepancy; for it may be regarded as established that the Maya script permitted the use of several signs for the same sound, and the sculptor or scribe was not obliged to represent the same word always by the same figure.

Fig. 1.—Signs of the Months, from the Book of Chilan Balam of Chumayel.

Fig. 2.—Signs of the Months, as given by Bishop Landa.

In close relation to chronology is the system of numeration and arithmetical signs. These are discussed with considerable fulness, especially in the “Book of Chilan Balam of Káua.” The numerals are represented by exactly the same figures as we find in the Maya manuscripts of the libraries of Dresden, Pesth, Paris and Madrid; that is, by points or dots up to five, and the fives by single straight lines, which may be indiscriminately drawn vertically or horizontally. The same book contains a table of multiplication in Spanish and Maya, which settles some disputed points in the use of the vigesimal system by the Mayas.

A curious chapter in several of the books, especially those of Káua and Mani, is that on the thirteenahau katuns, or epochs, of the greater cycle of the Mayas. This cycle embraced thirteen periods, which, as I have before remarked, are computed by some at twenty years each, by others at twenty-four years each. Each of thesekatunswas presided over by a chief or king, that being the meaning of the wordahau. The books above mentioned give both the name and the portrait, drawn and colored by the rude hand of the native artist, of each of these kings, and they suggest several interesting analogies.

They are, in the first place, identical, with one exception, with those on an ancient native painting, an engraving of which is given by Father Cogolludo in his “History ofYucatan,” and explained by him as the representation of an occurrence which took place after the Spaniards arrived in the peninsula. Evidently, the native in whose hands the worthy father found it, fearing that he partook of the fanaticism which had led the missionaries to the destruction of so many records of their nation, deceived him as to its purport, and gave him an explanation which imparted to the scroll the character of a harmless history.

The one exception is the last or thirteenth chief. Cogolludo appends to this the name of an Indian who probably did fall a victim to his friendship to the Spaniards. This name, as a sort of guarantee for the rest of his story, the native scribe inserted in place of the genuine one. The peculiarity of the figure is that it has an arrow or dagger driven into its eye. Not only is this mentioned by Cogolludo’s informant, but it is represented in the paintings in both the “Books of Chilan Balam” above noted, and also, by a fortunate coincidence, in one of the calendar pages of the “Codex Troano,” plate xxiii., in a remarkable cartouche, which, from a wholly independent course of reasoning, was some time since identified by the well-known antiquary, Professor Cyrus Thomas, of Illinois, as a cartouche of one of theahau katuns, and probably of the last of them. It gives me much pleasure to add such conclusive proof of the sagacity of his supposition.[245]

Fig. 3.—Signs of the Days.The first column on the right is from Landa. The second is from the “Codex Troano.” The remaining four are from the Book of Chilan Balam of Káua.

There is other evidence to show that the engraving in Cogolludo is a relic of the purest ancient Maya symbolism—oneof the most interesting which have been preserved to us; but to enter upon its explanation in this connection would be too far from my present topic.

A favorite theme with the writers of the “Books of Chilan Balam” was the cure of diseases. Bishop Landa explains the “chilanes” as “sorcerers and doctors,” and adds that one of their prominent duties was to diagnose diseases and point out their appropriate remedies.[246]As we might expect, therefore, considerable prominence is given to the description of symptoms and suggestions for their alleviation. Bleeding and the administration of preparations of native plants are the usual prescriptions; but there are others which have probably been borrowed from some domestic medicine-book of European origin.

The late Don Pio Perez gave a great deal of attention to collecting these native recipes, and his manuscripts were carefully examined by Dr. Berendt, who combined all the necessary knowledge, botanical, linguistic and medical, and who has left a large manuscript, entitled “Recetarios de Indios,” which presents the subject fully. He considers the scientific value of these remedies to be next to nothing, and the language in which they are recorded to be distinctly inferior to that of the remainder of the “Books of Chilan Balam.” Hence, he believes that this portion of the ancient records was supplanted some time in the last century by medical notions introduced from European sources. Such, in fact, is the statement of the copyists of the books themselves,as these recipes, etc., are sometimes found in a separate volume, entitled “The Book of the Jew,”—El Libro del Judio. Who this alleged Jewish physician was, who left so widespread and durable a renown among the Yucatecan natives, none of the archæologists has been able to find out.[247]

The language and style of most of these books are aphoristic, elliptical and obscure. The Maya language has naturally undergone considerable alteration since they were written; therefore, even to competent readers of ordinary Maya, they are not readily intelligible. Fortunately, however, there are in existence excellent dictionaries, which, were they published, would be sufficient for this purpose.

ON THE “STONE OF THE GIANTS.”[248]

At the last meeting of this Society, a photograph was received of thePiedra de los Gigantes, or “Stone of the Giants,” now situated at Escamela, near the city of Orizaba, Mexico. It was obligingly forwarded by the Mexican antiquary, Father Damaso Sotomayor, and was referred by the Society to me for a possible interpretation of the figures represented.

The sender accompanied the envoy with a copy of a newspaper published in Orizaba, entitledEl Siglo que Acaba, which contained a lengthy interpretation of the figure by Father Sotomayor in accordance with the principles laid down in his recently published work on the decipherment of Aztec hieroglyphics.[249]The Father sees in the inscribed figures a mystical allusion to the coming of Christ to the Gentiles, and to the occurrences supposed in Hebrew myth to have taken place in the Garden of Eden. As I cannot agree in the remotest with his hypothesis, I shall say nothing further about it, but proceed to give what I consider the true significance of the inscribed figures.

I should preface my remarks by mentioning that this stoneis not a recent discovery in Mexican archæology. It was examined by Captain Dupaix in the year 1808, and is figured in the illustrations to his voluminous narrative.[250]The figure he gives is however so erroneous that it yields but a faint idea of the real character and meaning of the drawing. It omits the ornament on the breast, and also the lines along the right of the giant’s face, which as I shall show are distinctive traits. It gives him a girdle where none is delineated, and the relative size and proportions of all the three figures are quite distorted. Dupaix informs us, however, of several particulars which the Rev. Sotomayor omitted to state. From the former’s description we learn that the stone, or rather rock, on which the inscription is found is roughly triangular in shape, presenting a nearly straight border of thirty feet on each side. It is hard and uniform in texture, and of a dark color. The length or height of the principal figure is twenty-seven feet, and the incised lines which designate the various objects are deeply and clearly cut. In the present position of the stone, which is the same as that stated by Captain Dupaix, the head of the principal figure, called “the giant,” lies toward the east, while the right hand is extended toward the north and the left toward the west. It is open to doubt whether this disposition was accidental or intentional, as there is reason to believe that the stone is notnow in its original position, or not in that for which it was intended.

Along the base of the stone, which is in thickness some five feet, at the feet of the giant, there are a series of figures inscribed which are now almost obliterated; at least the photographs sent the Society give no clear idea of them, and the cuts of Dupaix are plainly for the most part fanciful. Their presence there, however, proves that the block was not intended to have been set up on edge, or inserted vertically into a wall, as either of these arrangements would have obscured these hieroglyphs.[251]

I now approach the decipherment of the inscriptions. Any one versed in the signs of the Mexican calendar will at once perceive that it contains the date of a certain year and day. On the left of the giant is seen a rabbit surrounded with ten circular depressions. These depressions are the well-known Aztec marks for numerals, and the rabbit represents one of the four astronomic signs by which they adjusted their chronologic cycle of fifty-two years. The three others were a house, a reed, and a flint. Each one of these recurred thirteen times in their cycle, making, as I have said, a term of fifty-two years in all. A year was designated by one of the four names with its appropriate number; as “3 house,” “12 flint,” “4 reed,” etc., the sequence being regularly preserved.

The days were arranged in zones or weeks of twenty, the different series being numbered, and also named from asequence of eighteen astronomical signs called “wind,” “lizard,” “snake,” “deer,” etc. The five days lacking to complete the 365 were intercalated. A second or ritual system had thirteen weeks of twenty days each; but as thirteen times twenty makes only two hundred and sixty, in this computation there remained 105 days to be named and numbered. Their device to accomplish this was simple: they merely recommenced the numbering and naming of the weeks for this remainder, adding a third series of appellations drawn from a list of nine signs, called “rulers of the night.” At the close of the solar year they recommenced as at the beginning of the previous year.[252]

With these facts in our mind, we can approach our task with confidence. The stone bears a carefully dated record, with the year and day clearly set forth. The year is represented to the left of the figure, and is that numbered “ten” under the sign of the rabbit, in Nahuatl,xihuitl matlacth tochtli; the day of the year is numbered “one” under the sign of the fish,ce cipactli.

These precise dates recurred once, and only once, every fifty-two years; and had recurred only once between the year of our era 1450 and the Spanish conquest of Mexico in 1519–20. We may begin our investigations with that one epoch, as from other circumstances, such as local tradition[253]and the character of the work, it is not likely that the inscription was previous to the middle of the fifteenth century. Within the period named, the year “10 rabbit” of the Aztec calendar corresponded with the year 1502 of the Gregorian calendar. It is more difficult to fix the day, as the mathematical problems relating to the Aztec diurnal reckonings are extremely complicated, and have not yet been satisfactorily worked out; but it is, I think, safe to say, that according to both the most probable computations the day “one fish”—ce cipactli—occurred in the first month of the year 1502, which month coincided in whole or in part with our February.

Such is the date on the inscription. Now, what is intimated to have occurred on that date? The clue to this is furnished by the figure of the giant.

On looking at it closely we perceive that it represents an ogre of horrid mien with a death-head grin and formidable teeth, his hair wild and long, the locks falling down upon the neck; and suspended on the breast as an ornament is the bone of a human lower jaw with its incisor teeth. The left leg is thrown forward as in the act of walking, and the arms are uplifted, the hands open, and the fingers extended, as at the moment of seizing the prey or the victim. The lines about the umbilicus represent the knot of the girdle which supported themaxtlior breech-cloth.

Fig. 1.The Stone of the Giants.

There is no doubt as to which personage of the Aztec pantheon this fear-inspiring figure represents; it isTzontemocMictlantecutli, “the Lord of the Realm of the Dead, He of the Falling Hair,” the dread god of death and the dead.[254]His distinctive marks are there, the death-head, the falling hair, the jaw bone, the terrible aspect, the giant size.

There can be no question but that thePiedra de los Gigantesestablishes a date of death; that it is a necrological tablet, a mortuary monument, and from its size and workmanship, that it was intended as a memorial of the decease of some very important personage in ancient Mexico.

Provided with these deductions from the stone itself, let us turn to the records of old Mexico and see if they corroborate the opinion stated. Fortunately we possess several of these venerable documents, chronicles of the empire before Cortes destroyed it, written in the hieroglyphs which the inventive genius of the natives had devised. Taking two of these chronicles, the one known as theCodex Telleriano-Remensis, the other as theCodex Vaticanus,[255]and turning to the year numbered “ten” under the sign of the rabbit, I find that both present the same record, which I copy in the following figure.

Fig. 2.Extract from the Vatican Codex.

You will observe the sign of the year, the rabbit, shown merely by his head for brevity. The ten dots which give its number are beside it. Immediately beneath is a curious quadruped with what are intended as water-drops dripping from him. The animal is the hedge-hog and the figure is to be construediconomatically, that is, it must be read as a rebus through the medium of the Nahuatl language. In that language water isatl, in compositiona, and hedge-hog isuitzotl. Combine these and you getahuitzotl, or, with the reverential termination,ahuitzotzin. This was the name of the ruler or emperor, if you allow the word, of ancient Mexico before the accession to the throneof that Montezuma whom the SpanishconquistadorCortes put to death. His hieroglyph, as I have described it, is well known in Mexican codices.[256]

Returning to the page from the chronicle, we observe that the hieroglyph of Ahuitzotzin is placed immediately over a corpse swathed in its mummy cloths, as was the custom of interment with the highest classes in Mexico. This signifies that the death of Ahuitzotzin took place in that year. Adjacent to it is the figure of his successor, his name iconomatically represented by the head-dress of the nobles; thetecuhtli, giving the middle syllables of “Mo-tecuh-zoma.”[257]Beneath is also the figure of the new ruler, with the outlines of a flower and a house, which would be translated by the iconomatic systemxochicalliorxochicalco; but the significance of these does not concern us here.

This page of the Codices gives us therefore a record of a death in the year “10tochtli”—1502—of the utmost importance. No previous ruler had brought ancient Mexico to such a height of glory and power. “In his reign,” says Orozco y Berra, “Mexico reached its utmost extension. Tributes were levied in all directions, and fabulous riches poured into the capital city.”[258]The death of the ruler was therefore an event of the profoundest national significance. We may well believe that it would be commemorated by some artistic work commensurate with its importance; andthis I claim was the purpose of thePiedra de los Gigantesof Escamela.

But we may add further and convincing testimony to this interpretation. The day of the monthce cipactli, 1 Fish, is engraved to the right of the figure as connected with the event commemorated. Now, although I have not found in the records the exact day of Ahuitzotzin’s death, I do find that the native historian Ixtlilxochitl assigns this very day,ce cipactli, 1 Fish, as that of the accession of Montezuma;[259]and another native historian, Chimalpahin, states distinctly that this took place “immediately” after the death of his predecessor on the throne.[260]It may possibly have been on the very day of Ahuitzotzin’s decease, as still another native writer, Tezozomoc, informs us that this was not sudden, but the slow result of a wound on the head.[261]

It is indeed remarkable that we should find the precise dates, the year and the day of the year, depicted on this stone, and also recorded by various native writers, as connected with the demise of the emperor Ahuitzotzin. These coincidences are of such a nature that they leave no doubt thatLa Piedra de los Gigantesof Escamela is a necrologic tablet commemorating the death of the emperor Ahuitzotzin some time in February, 1502.

NATIVE AMERICAN POETRY.[262]

In our modern civilization we are apt to consider that a taste for poetry is a mark of high culture, something which belongs exclusively to trained mental fibre and educated perceptions. It causes us, therefore, some surprise when we study the psychology of savage tribes, to find them almost everywhere passionate lovers of verse and measure, of music and song. This fact, well established by the researches of ethnology, was recognized by more than one keen thinker before ethnology was born. In the last century that erratic genius, Hamann, known in German literature as “the magician of the north,” penned the memorable words, “Poetry is the common mother-tongue of the human race,” and insisted that to attain its noblest flights, “we must return to the infancy of the race, and to the simplicity of a childlike faith,” a dictum warmly espoused by the philosophic Herder and by the enthusiasm of the young Gœthe. Later on, that profoundest of psychologists, Wilhelm von Humboldt, reflecting on the problems presented by the origin of languages, expressed his conviction that man as a zoological species is a singing animal, like many birds; thathis vocal organs turn to song as their appropriate function with a like spontaneity as his mind turns to thought or his eyes to the light.

If we inquire into the psychological principle which makes rhythm agreeable to the ear, we shall find that this principle is that ofrepetition. I could carry the analysis still further, and demonstrate to you that the physiological principle of all pleasure is expressed in the formula—“maximum action with minimum effort;” and that the nerves of audition are most successfully acted upon in accordance with this law by limited repetitions with harmonious intervals. All metres, all rhythm, all forms of alliteration and assonance, are but varied applications of the principle of harmonious repetition; and the poet, as a poet, as an artist, must be rated, and practically always is rated, by the skill with which he employs the resources of repetition. Lofty thoughts, beautiful metaphors, delicate allusions, these are his extraneous aids, and by no means his exclusive property; but the form is his own, be it quantity, rhyme, alliteration or accent.

I have felt it necessary to state very briefly these general principles, in order to place in its proper light that form of poetry which is most prevalent among the native tribes of America. You will not find among them any developed examples of either rhyme or alliteration; their dialects do not admit of fixed vocalic quantity, like the Latin; even accent and assonance, which are the more imperfect resources of the poetic art, are generally absent. What, then, in a literary analysis, constitutes their poetic form?

I answer,repetitionin its simplest expressions. These are two. The same verse may be repeated over and over again;or the wording of the verses may be changed, but each may be accompanied by a burden or refrain, which is repeated by the singer or the chorus. These are the two fundamental characteristics of aboriginal poetry, and are found everywhere on the American continent. The refrain is usually interjectional and meaningless; and the verses are often repeated without alteration, four or five times over.

We may, if we choose, begin our survey of the continent with its extreme northernmost inhabitants, the Eskimo, whose abode is along the inhospitable shores of the Arctic sea. One might think that the eternal snows which surround them, the vast glaciers which chill the air for miles beyond their limits, would also freeze out and kill all fire of poesy. Quite the contrary. I doubt if throughout the American continent I could quote you a more thoroughly poetic people, one taking a greater delight in song, than these same boreal, blubber-eating, ice-bound Eskimo. Their great delight is in long tales of magic and adventure, and in improvisation. An Eskimo hunter, with a ready power to string together verse after verse of their peculiar poetry, soon extends his fame beyond the confines of his native village, and becomes known for many a league up and down the shore. Often in the long winter nights, genuine tourneys of song are organized between the champions of villages, not unlike those which took place in fair Provence in the palmy days ofla gaye science. More than this, I have been assured by Dr. Franz Boas, who recently passed two years among the Eskimo of Baffin’s Land, living with them as one of them, that it is nothing uncommon for downright hostile feelings, personal grudges, to be settled by the opponents meeting ona fixed occasion and singing satirical and abusive songs at each other. He who comes out best, raising the most laughter at his antagonist’s expense, is considered to have conquered, and his enemy accepts the defeat. These controversial songs have been called by the Danish writers “nith songs,” from the wordnith, which is also old English, and means cursing and contention.

The distinguished traveler, Dr. Heinrich Rink, who has passed nineteen winters in Greenland, has furnished me the originals, with translations, of several of these nith songs.

As an example, I will read you one which took place between two rivals,SavdlatandPulangit-Sissok. Savdlat lived to the north, Pulangit-Sissok to the south. To appreciate the satire, you must know that an Eskimo gentleman prides himself chiefly on two points: first, that he speaks his own tongue with precisely the right accent, which, I need not say, he considers to be the accent of his own village, wherever that may be; and secondly, that he is a skillful boatman.

Savdlat begins the poetic duel in these words:

SAVDLAT AND PULANGIT-SISSOK.SAVDLAT—The South shore, O yes, the South shore, I know it;Once I lived there and met Pulangit-Sissok,A fat fellow who lived on halibut; O yes, I know him.Those South-shore folk can’t talk;They don’t know how to pronounce our language;Truly they are dull fellows;They don’t even talk alike;Some have one accent, some another;Nobody can understand them;They can scarcely understand each other.PULANGIT-SISSOK—O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances;He wished me extremely well at times;Once I know he wished I was the best boatman on the shore;It was a rough day, and I in mercy took his boat in tow;Ha! ha! Savdlat, thou didst cry most pitiful;Thou wast awfully afeared;In truth, thou wast nearly upset;And hadst to keep hold of my boat strings,And give me part of thy load.O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances.

SAVDLAT AND PULANGIT-SISSOK.

SAVDLAT—

The South shore, O yes, the South shore, I know it;Once I lived there and met Pulangit-Sissok,A fat fellow who lived on halibut; O yes, I know him.Those South-shore folk can’t talk;They don’t know how to pronounce our language;Truly they are dull fellows;They don’t even talk alike;Some have one accent, some another;Nobody can understand them;They can scarcely understand each other.

The South shore, O yes, the South shore, I know it;

Once I lived there and met Pulangit-Sissok,

A fat fellow who lived on halibut; O yes, I know him.

Those South-shore folk can’t talk;

They don’t know how to pronounce our language;

Truly they are dull fellows;

They don’t even talk alike;

Some have one accent, some another;

Nobody can understand them;

They can scarcely understand each other.

PULANGIT-SISSOK—

O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances;He wished me extremely well at times;Once I know he wished I was the best boatman on the shore;It was a rough day, and I in mercy took his boat in tow;Ha! ha! Savdlat, thou didst cry most pitiful;Thou wast awfully afeared;In truth, thou wast nearly upset;And hadst to keep hold of my boat strings,And give me part of thy load.O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances.

O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances;

He wished me extremely well at times;

Once I know he wished I was the best boatman on the shore;

It was a rough day, and I in mercy took his boat in tow;

Ha! ha! Savdlat, thou didst cry most pitiful;

Thou wast awfully afeared;

In truth, thou wast nearly upset;

And hadst to keep hold of my boat strings,

And give me part of thy load.

O yes, Savdlat and I are old acquaintances.

A similar humorous strain is very marked in most of the Eskimo songs. Indeed, I know no other tribe in America where the genuine fun-loving spirit bubbles forth so freely. In Mexico and Central America, in the midst of beautiful scenery and where the flowery earth basks in the lap of an eternal spring, the tone of most of the songs is sad and lugubrious; or, if humorous, with a satirical, bitter, unhealthy humor, aSchadenfreude, which is far from wholesome merriment. Dr. Berendt, who spent seventeen years in studying the languages of Central America, has pointedly called attention to the great predominance of words in them expressing painful, over those expressing pleasurable emotions. It teaches us how little the happiness of man depends upon his environment, that the merriest of the American nations is found precisely where according to our usual notions almost every cheering and enlivening element is withdrawn from life, where darkness, cold, and destitution have undisputed rule.

But I will not continue with such generalizations, attractive though they are. Let me relieve their dryness by a little Eskimo song, the full Eskimo text of which you will find printed in Dr. Rink’s work entitled “Tales of the Eskimo.” As usual, each line is followed by an interjectional burden, which I shall repeat only in part. The song is called

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