THE INDIANS.

El Salto del Agua—Netzahualcoyotl—Noche triste—Historical Jottings—Chapultepec—Indians—Chinampas—Legends—Anecdote—Mexican Museum—Tizoc’s Stone, or Gladiator’s Stone—Yoke and Sacrificial Stone—Holy War—Religious Cannibalism—American Copper.

El Salto del Agua is the only monumental fountain in Mexico; it stands in the centre of a low suburb removed from the chief thoroughfares, and terminates the aqueduct which brings from Chapultepec (“grasshopper’s hill”) an abundant supply of water to Mexico. El Salto del Agua is an oblong building, with a very mediocre faÇade; a wide spread-eagle in the centre supports the escutcheon bearing the arms of the city. On each side twisted columns with Corinthian capitals bear two symbolical figures, representing Europe and America, besides eight half-broken vases.

According to historians of the conquest, El Salto del Agua, and the Aqueduct which it terminates, replaced the ancient aqueduct of Montezuma, constructed by Netzahualcoyotl, King of Tezcuco, between the years 1427 and 1440. At that time it was brought through an earthen pipe to the city, along a dyke constructed for the purpose, and that there might be no failure in so essential an article, a double course of pipes in stone and mortar was laid. In this way a column of water the size of a man’s body was conducted into the heart of the capital, where it fed fountains and reservoirs of the principal mansions.8

Since the name of Netzahualcoyotl has been mentioned, it may not be out of place to give a brief account of a prince whose accomplishments, character, and adventurous life, would make him a fit hero for romance rather than the subject of sober history. He was descended from the Toltecs, of whom we shall speak later. He ruled over the Acolhuans or Tezcucans, as they were generally called, a nation of the same family as the Aztecs, whom it preceded on the plateau, and whom it rivalled in power and surpassed in intellectual activity. He was himself at once king, poet, philosopher, and lawgiver, and was a munificent patron of letters, and Tezcuco was, in his time, the meeting-place of all that was intelligent in Anahuac, as was Athens in the days of Pericles, Florence and Rome under the Medicis. Netzahualcoyotl held a conspicuous place among the bards of Anahuac, for the tender pathos of his verse, the elegance and rich colouring of his style, and the tinge of melancholy which pervades most of his writings. His large and enlightened mind could not accept the superstitions of his countrymen, still less the sanguinary rites of the Aztecs; his humane temper shrank from their cruel rites, and he endeavoured to recall his people to the more pure and simple worship of their forefathers. But he shared the fate of men far in advance of their time, and had to yield before their ignorance and fanaticism, contenting himself with publicly avowing his faith and nobler conception of the deity. He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, to the “Unknown God, the Cause of Causes.”

Though Netzahualcoyotl was of a benevolent disposition, he was strict in the administration of the laws, even against his own children; indeed, he put to death his two sons for having appropriated other people’s booty. Many anecdotes are told of the benevolent interest he took in his subjects, amongst whom he delighted to wander in disguise, and, like Haroun-al-Raschid, entered freely in conversation with them, thus ascertaining their individual wants. His last days were spent in the pursuit of astronomical studies and the contemplation of the future life. He died full of days after a reign of nearly fifty years, during which he had freed his country from a foreign tyrant, breathed new life into the nation, renewed its ancient institutions, and seen it advancing towards a higher standard of civilisation; and he saw his end approach with the same serenity that he had shown alike in misfortune and in prosperity. Such is the very imperfect account of a prince who was the glory of his nation; whose muse, by turns, invited men to enjoy the passing hour, or bade them beware of the vanity of all earthly pleasures, teaching them to look beyond the grave for things that will endure.

But before we go on to Chapultepec, we must call at Tacuba, and visit the famous Ahuahuete, a kind of cypress, under whose shelter Cortez, on the night of July 1, 1520, came to rest his weary limbs and mourn over the cause which had so greatly imperilled his safety and that of his troops, as to make imperative the evacuation of Mexico, in which many of his most trusty veterans were sacrificed. The night was called on this account Noche triste, “Melancholy night.”

But to explain. We will give a short sketch of the causes which brought about this sad event, quoting largely from Father Duran, Ramirez, and Sahagun:

“It was in the month of May, the Mexican toxcatl, when it was common for the Aztecs to celebrate their great annual festival in honour of their war-god Huitzilopochtli, which was commemorated by sacrifice, religious songs and dances, in which all the nobility engaged, displaying their magnificent gala costumes, with their brilliant mantles of feather-work, sprinkled with precious stones, and their necks, arms, and legs ornamented with collars and bracelets of gold. Alvarado, whom Cortez had left as lieutenant of his forces, during his expedition against his formidable enemy, Narvaez, was now petitioned by the Indian caciques to be allowed to perform their rites. Alvarado acquiesced on condition that on this occasion there should be no human sacrifice, and that they should come without weapons; he and his soldiers, meanwhile, attended as spectators, some of them taking station at the gates, as if by chance. They were all fully armed, but as this was usual, it excited no suspicion; but as soon as the festival, which was held in the court of the great temple, had fairly begun, and the Mexicans were engrossed by the exciting movement of the dance, and their religious chants, Alvarado and his followers, at a concerted signal, rushed with drawn swords on their defenceless victims. Unprotected by armour or weapon of any kind, they were hewn down without resistance by their pitiless and bloodthirsty assailants. Some fled to the gates, but were thrust back by the pikes of the soldiers; some were able to scale the walls; others, penetrating the sanctuary of the temple, fell on the pavement and simulated death. The pavement ran with streams of blood, ‘like water in a heavy shower,’ and the ground was strewn with the mutilated limbs of the dead. The Spaniards, not content with slaughtering their victims, rifled them of their precious ornaments. On this sad day were sacrificed more than six hundred men, the flower of the Mexican nobility; not a family of note but had to mourn the loss of a near relation. The tidings of this horrible butchery filled the nation with stupefaction and dismay; they could hardly believe their senses. Every feeling of long-smothered hostility and rancour now burst forth in a cry for vengeance. The respect for the person of their sovereign made them desist from further attempts to storm the fortress. But they threw up works around the Palace to prevent the Spaniards from getting out. They suspended the market, to preclude the possibility of their enemy obtaining supplies. This accomplished, they quietly sat down, waiting for the time when famine would deliver the hated foreigner into their hands. The situation of the Spaniards seemed desperate, when they were relieved from their gloomy apprehensions by the return of Cortez, who with his comrades had succeeded in utterly crushing Narvaez. It was not too soon: a few days more and the garrison must have surrendered from lack of provisions, and still more from want of water. Alvarado was subjected to a cross-examination by Cortez, who contented himself with administering some words of reproof, and ordering him to his post; for the city again rose to arms. In this terrible strait, Cortez sent to the Aztec Emperor to request him to mediate with his subjects. Meanwhile the Spaniards endeavoured to effect a retreat out of a city thoroughly roused against them. This they accomplished under cover of a dark, drizzling night, after a fearful carnage and much bloodshed, lasting over several days; when the Spanish troops, accompanied by their Tlascalan allies, abandoned a city which had been so lately the scene of their triumphs, and each soldier, loaded with as much gold and jewels as he could carry, made for the gates. All was hushed in silence; no danger seeming to arrest their march, they were beginning to hope that a few hours would see them beyond the missiles of the enemy. But, as they drew near the bridges of Tlascopan Street, they were assailed by thousands of Mexicans, and amidst a fearful tumult and destructive confusion, followed by shouts of impotent rage from the combatants and moans from the severely wounded, in which the best among the Spaniards lay buried in the murky waters of the canals, or fallen under the axes of the Mexicans, the Spanish leaders, followed by the disordered remnant of their troops, were allowed to defile to an adjacent village called Popotla, where Cortez, on beholding their thinned ranks and deplorable condition, gave vent to the anguish of his soul.

Cortez’ fame has been much overrated; he was fortunate rather than great, for he was powerfully assisted at the very outset by the friendly attitude of the Indians, who welcomed in him the Deliverer long foretold in their legends, who was to rescue them from the thraldom and heavy burdens imposed upon them by the Aztec monarchs, to enable them to carry on their warlike enterprises and policy of annexation. He was helped, moreover, by two intelligent interpreters, Aguilar and Marina, in his intercourse with the natives; Marina proving subsequently a devoted friend, and a faithful and skilful negotiator with the Indians. It is equally certain that, from purely selfish motives of personal convenience and policy, as also to gratify the cruel rapacity of his followers, he not only allowed, but even ordered acts of bloodshed and treachery which must for ever stain his character. His courage cannot be doubted; yet his conduct in the expedition to Honduras, his pusillanimity on his return, argue a poor politician; whilst the revolting massacres at Cholula and Mexico sink into shade when compared with the murder of Guatemozin. Las Casas, who knew him well, calls him “that fellow;” which term of reproach is more opprobrious than a worse epithet.

But these things have detained us too long already; let us now proceed to Chapultepec, one of the most delightful spots in the Mexican valley. Two roads, the Paseo Nuevo and the tramway, lead to it; we will take the latter as shorter and cheaper, which, starting from the Place d’Armes, goes through Belen gate, and sets us down at the very entrance of the Castle. Chapultepec, “grasshopper hill,” is a volcanic hill some 1,625 feet long, and 100 feet high, covered with luxurious vegetation, crowned with groves of cypresses, ahuahuetes, some of which are seventy-five feet in diameter, and seem to defy the decay of ages.9

The view from the windows of the Palace, which stands on the top of the hill, embracing the valley of Mexico, is one of the finest in the world. In the highly rarefied atmosphere of these upper regions, even distant objects have a brilliancy of colouring and a distinctness of outline which enables one to take in the details of this marvellous panorama, studded with towns and hamlets, the white walls of which, together with the tops of porphyry rocks, glimmer in the rays of the sun. Stretching far away at their feet are seen noble forests of oak, sycamore, and cedar, whilst beyond, cultivated fields, beautiful gardens, lakes, and lagoons, girdle the valley around. Looking towards Mexico, the spectator has behind him the low chain de las Cruces; on his right, to the south, Pedregal and the Ajuscean hills; before him, to the east, the grand snowy tops of Popocatepetl, “the hill of smoke,” and Iztaccihuatl, “White Woman,” from its bright robe of snow; on his left to the north, Cerro Gordo, and nearer, the Sierra Guadalupe, where stands the most celebrated sanctuary of Mexico, dedicated to the Virgin.

This chapel rises on the site once occupied by the famous temple of Toci—the mother of a god—whose altars were thronged all times by multitudes of devotees. To induce the Indians to welcome the Virgin Mary as their tutelar divinity, the priests took care to represent her with a dark complexion and the courtly robes worn by noble Mexican maidens in their time of prosperity. The story of the Aztec Virgin is so characteristic of the sanguinary instincts of the people who raised her to the rank of a deity, that we will tell it.

The Mexicans, after a series of wanderings and adventures, during which they endured all the hardships of a migratory life, succeeded at length in establishing themselves on the muddy islets of the principal lake, in the year 1325. Here they raised a temple to their war-god, Huitzilopochtli, on whose altars human sacrifices were offered. Prisoners were generally reserved for this purpose, but in times of public calamity the god required the best of the land. It is told how on one occasion, the oracle of Huitzilopochtli demanded that a Royal Princess should be sacrificed to him; and how the Aztec monarch sent to one of his vassals, the King of Colhuacan, to petition for one of his daughters to become the mother of the tutelar god—and as such share with him divine honours. The King of Colhuacan, flattered by the honour reserved for his daughter, unable besides to refuse, confided the young Princess to the care of the Aztec envoys, who escorted her with great pomp to the city where she was sacrificed, her skin being taken off after death to clothe the young priest who was to represent the deity in this solemnity. The cruelty was carried so far as to invite the father to be present at the bitter mockery of his child’s deification; he came, penetrated the sanctuary, but at first the gloom of the temple did not let him see anything, until he was given a copal-gum torch, the flame of which bursting up suddenly revealed the horrible picture of the young priest standing close to the idol and receiving the homage of the multitude. The skin fitted so tightly that the monarch recognised his daughter’s mask, and almost mad with grief he fled the temple to mourn for his murdered child.10

The Mexican valley was occupied successively by various tribes, which advancing from the north and north-west, entered the country towards the end of the seventh century. The first and most remarkable of these, both from the mildness of their character and the degree of their civilisation, were the Toltecs, who occupied Chapultepec as early as the eighth century, and established their capital at Tula, north of the Mexican valley, whose name Toltec was synonymous with architect. After a time, a rude tribe, the Chichemecs, entered the territory and were soon followed by other races, amongst which were the Aztecs or Mexicans, and the Acolhuans or Tezcucans. Some of these obtained leave from Xolotl, King of the Chichemecs, to settle on Chapultepec, which in the course of time became a royal residence, and a royal burial-place, whilst its rocks were made to transmit to posterity the features of the Mexican monarchs, Azayacoatl and the two Montezumas, together with the sons of the last Aztec emperor; two statues of this monarch and his father were to be seen as late as the last century, when they were destroyed by order of the Government.

Father Duran tells how Montezuma I. had himself and his first minister sculptured. Feeling that his end was drawing near, he summoned the doughty warrior Tlacael, who for three reigns had shown his valour on the field of battle and his wisdom in council: “Brother Tlacael,” said the monarch, “it would be well that our names and persons should be graven on the rock of Chapultepec, and thus pass to posterity.” “Your wish, most noble king, shall instantly be obeyed.” And calling together the most renowned sculptors, Tlacael imparted to them the royal command. In a few days two bas-reliefs were executed, so striking in resemblance, and so exquisite in workmanship, as to surprise Montezuma himself.

The Castle, which was built by the Viceroy Galvaez at the close of the seventeenth century, was transformed into a Military School by the Government in 1841; Maximilian during his short reign altered it, and made it his favourite residence. The Palace is once more occupied by the Military College, whose pupils have shown themselves worthy of it, by their heroic defence at the time of the American war. An observatory has been lately built, at the expense of the Government.

But it is time to return to Mexico, where we shall find the Indian pretty much what he was three or four hundred years ago. This arises from his having been subjected, from the earliest times, to Aztec rule and the severe discipline of its priests and afterwards to the still more cruel and unjust yoke of the Spaniards, who, by depriving him of civil rights and all his goods, degraded him to the low rank he now occupies. Before the conquest the people was divided in three distinct and almost equally honourable classes, land proprietors, warriors, and merchants; but the conquerors, reserving for themselves all these good things, restricted the Indians to the occupations of macehual (tiller of the ground), or tamene (porter), that is, a beast of burden, used by marching armies or merchants in their distant expeditions; and, although all careers are now opened to him, he is slow to avail himself of his newly-acquired privileges.

As an aguador, he still conveys water to every household, in jars, which he carries one behind, the other in front, supported by leather thongs covering his head; as a vendor he brings coals in nets made of aloe strings; his earthenware, poultry, eggs, vegetables, in huacales or cases made of twigs, kept together by strings; and, indeed, his tools, kitchen utensils and the like, are the same as he formerly used. The only alteration he has made in his costume has been to adopt nether garments, but in the Uplands he dispenses with this and is satisfied with his maxtli, “broad band.” He has not varied his diet, nor the manner of preparing it; the staple of his food is still Indian corn, which he grinds with a metate, granite roller, or bakes into flat cakes, tortillas, in comals, or baking ovens. His vegetables he seasons highly, and on days of festival he adds to this simple fare a turkey when he is well-to-do, a piece of pork when poor; his drink is the pulque, the invention of which dates nearly four hundred years back; his jacal, or hut, composed of sticks lined with clay, roofed with aloe leaves, measuring at the basement some seven or ten feet square, is exactly the jacal of ancient chroniclers, without any pavement, hardly any furniture, save some few images of saints, which have replaced the terra-cotta household divinities.

In former times, when he lived on the lagoons, with no right to the land, which was held by his enemies, he satisfied his hunger with frogs and serpents, to be found in the marshes, salamanders, flies and flies’ eggs, ahuatli, which latter were made into cakes, a dish which was adopted by the Spaniards; and, when further pressed by want and dearth, he invented chinampas, those floating gardens which so much surprised the conquerors. Chinampas were rafts of reeds, rushes, and other fibrous materials, which, tightly knit together, formed a sufficient basis for the heaps of black mud which the natives drew up from the bottom of the lake. Gradually islands were formed, some reaching two or three hundred feet in length, and three or four feet in depth, with a very rich soil, on which the thrifty Indian raised maize and vegetables for himself and flowers for the market, his prince, and his gods. Some of these chinampas were firm enough to allow the growth of small trees, and to have a hut for the owner, who, with a long pole resting on the sides or the bottom of the shallow basin, could change his position at pleasure, whether to move from an unpleasant neighbour or take his family on board, and moved on like some enchanted island over the water. In later times these floating gardens increased to such an extent that they completely girdled the city around with flowers and verdure, when every morning early numbers of boats, richly freighted, would be seen to glide through the canals and file out towards Plaza Mayor.11 Mexico, since the diminution of the lake, has become a high and dry city of the main land, with its centre nearly a league distant from the water; chinampas are no more; small flower-beds, divided by narrow causeways, where the Indian still mans his canoe, are all that remain of the floating gardens of olden time. Should the traveller wish to study the natives, he should go on market days toward the road which leads out of S. Cosme, by which great numbers both of men and women enter Pg 49
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Pg 51the city, their legs and backs bent under burdens heavier sometimes than an animal could carry. Indian women wear a dark woollen petticoat, striped with yellow, red, and green, and a piece of the same stuff, with an opening for the head, covers the bust and completes the costume. Notwithstanding their rags, some are not wanting in good looks, whilst most are well made, and were they cleanly and better dressed, many would be found strikingly pretty.

I only speak of young girls, for the old, covered with dirt rather than rags, are generally to be seen reeling under the influence of pulque. It is not too much to say that the Indian has retained all his primitive vices, and has added thereto those given him by his conquerors. Though he still preserves some of his popular legends, it is quite a chance if he understands anything about them; for in olden times, these were kept and transmitted by the upper classes, which have long ceased to exist, and the modern Indian knows absolutely nothing of his past history.

And here, to illustrate my meaning, I may be permitted to give an example of this marvellous ignorance, even regarding recent events. I happened to be in a village situated on Lake Chalco, when a number of Indians of both sexes, dressed up in old, ludicrous European costumes, got into boats and landed a short distance further, entering the village amidst a population which came out to meet them, with cries, hootings and blows, finally forcing them to re-embark. It was evident to me that this represented an invasion, which had been successfully repulsed, referring perhaps to the war of intervention, but though I asked, no one was able to enlighten me, contenting themselves with repeating “Francia, Francia.” At last an old man said that the masquerade commemorated an incident in the Spanish war of 1808, during the first empire. And on my expressing my astonishment at the ignorance of the actors about a subject they represented every year: “Are your common people much wiser when they sing their Latin Mass?” objected my American friend. I felt that I was answered, and I was silent.

The Indian is fond of money, his delight is to hoard, yet he is no better for it, as regards his daily life; he has all the instinct of a miser without its benefit; for your miser enjoys his money, he visits it by stealth, spends his time in counting, in contemplating it, whereas the Indian buries his hoardings out of sight; the satisfaction of knowing that he is rich is all-sufficient for him, and he does not care for the things which his gold would procure. The Valley of Oaxaca, which for generations supplied the world with cochineal, is supposed to have millions of money buried underground. During my residence there, I knew a man who, it was rumoured, was fond of hoarding; on one occasion he received some £200 for ingots and cochineal, and two days after asked me for the loan of four shillings. “Well, but what have you done with the money you got two days since?” I asked. “Esta colocado, SeÑor.” “It’s invested” (stowed underground). This secretive instinct, however, is not confined to the Indian, it is to be found among all conquered and persecuted races: serfs under Louis XIV. hid away both their bread and their money; the inhabitants of Indo-China and others only pay their taxes under pressure of the stick. It may be that the thrifty habit of our own middle classes, their wish to hoard for the mere sake of it, their aversion to part with it for any purpose of public good, which forms such a striking contrast to our Transatlantic fellow-citizens, is attributable to this instinct, which still survives when the need for it has long ceased to exist. We are, alas, but the freedmen of yesterday, whereas Americans have now long enjoyed the blessings of free institutions, and have besides the enormous advantage of trying them in an entirely new country. Untrammelled alike by traditions or the bonds which still fetter us, they are able to work out their benevolent or brilliant schemes, confident that their intelligence and their industry will lead them to new paths of progress and prosperity.

With the Indian this same instinct borders on fanaticism: the man who finds a treasure covers it up again carefully, not dreaming of making use of it; should he have a confidant, the latter will starve, nay, go through torture, rather than betray his friend. And here I cannot resist the temptation of telling an anecdote related to me by a Mexican friend bearing on the subject: A well-to-do Indian, who lived not far from Mexico, had a daughter whom a Frenchman was willing to marry, in the hope of inheriting the old man’s fortune, which was supposed to amount to some £20,000. Like most Indians, he died intestate, when a search was made for his money, but none could be found. His only available property was his cottage and garden. The deceased was known to have had a wretchedly poor friend, the confidant of all his secrets. He was immediately applied to, and subjected to numerous questions by the heirs regarding the money, and to induce him to speak, they offered the quarter, nay, the half of the hidden treasure, but he still refused; at last they thought of making him drunk, hoping that what they had been unable to obtain would be effected by pulque. He was made comfortable, when he became very confiding, so confiding that the expectant heir fully believed that a moment more would see him the happy recipient of the long-treasured-up secret, but the poor man suddenly stopped, horrified at what he was going to say, seeming to see his friend’s ghost before him, reproaching him for his disloyalty.

We shall not be taking leave of the Indian if we pay a visit to the Museum, where Aztec pottery, Aztec jewellery, Aztec kings, and Aztec gods will remind us of him everywhere. The Mexican Museum cannot be called rich, in so far that there is nothing remarkable in what the visitor is allowed to see. After reading the glowing accounts regarding Mexican manufacture and their marvellous objects of art, it was natural that I should be anxious to see the jewels, stuffs, manuscripts, and above all the paintings made with birds’ feathers, representing domestic scenes, and the portraits of Aztec monarchs, but I saw nothing in the two large rooms devoted to Mexican antiquities. I was told that the Museum was not in working order, that nothing was classified, that more space was being prepared in which the precious objects now shut up in numerous cases would be laid out for the benefit of the public. It may be so. For the present, we have to content ourselves with a collection of obsidian, marble, and porphyry heads; a number of large yokes, beautifully carved, besides several pieces of jade, rock-crystal, and bars of gold. As for the long rows of so-called “ancient vases,” there is not one that is not imitation. This I know to my cost, for with a credulity which subsequent events hardly justified, I no sooner was told that these vases were of great antiquity, than I immediately ordered three hundred to be cast from them, which I caused to be placed in the TrocadÉro during the Paris Exhibition; but on an expert in such matters seeing them, he at once detected and exposed the fraud, and in my disappointment it was not much comfort to reflect, that with half the money expended on these comparatively worthless objects, I might have bought, close to Mexico, a whole collection of vases of undoubted antiquity. It is a curious circumstance, that Mexicans, even the best informed among them, as well as foreigners, should so often be victimised by vulgar forgers of antiquities, who trade on the passions of the collector and the gullibility of the public; and that such things cannot be done in Europe without immediate detection, can only arise from the superior knowledge of our savants, and the greater facility afforded them of observing, classifying, and comparing the productions of all the civilised nations of the world, in the numerous collections with which our museums, both public and private, abound. In my own case, after my excavations, I never could have been so grossly imposed upon by pottery modern in shape, over which ancient bas-reliefs had been incongruously reproduced, forming a monstrous medley of things old and new, without any originality whatever. Their history is this: the manufacture was carried out on a large scale at Tlatiloco, a Mexican suburb, between 1820 and 1828, and the author must have realised an enormous fortune, if we are to judge from the quantity which he sent broadcast into the world—most museums, nearly all private collections are infested with them, whilst a great number are even now bought by the unwary. The thing was done in this way. Vases of every shape were chosen, without much thought or care, relying on the ignorance and the stupidity of the public; every form was used, whether a common water-jug, a flat or round vase, a rude or shapely jar, and by means of ancient moulds found in vast quantities in the whole area of the valley, heads, images, tiny figures, whistles, geometrical designs, palm-leaves, etc., were inlaid on the object, which had a simple, double, or treble twisted handle according to its size; it was a tripod with a gaping mouth, or topped with arabesque, when the occasion served. Variety was its distinctive merit; and when completed this fine work of art was buried some twelve months or more to impress upon it the hand of time, and thus prepared was launched on its course.

I trust that these few observations will serve as a warning to people, and save them from experience as costly as my own. Having now relieved my conscience, we will go back to the Museum and look at what I consider the finest portion, namely the court, planted with beautiful palm-trees, shrubs, and flowers, amongst which may be seen the most interesting Pg 57
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Pg 59specimens of the whole collection. First and foremost is a statue of a man lying on his back, holding a cup with both hands and pressing it against his body. It was found at Chichen-Itza, in Yucatan, by Leplongeon, an American explorer, who was obliged to part with it in favour of the Mexican Government, in virtue of the law which declares all antiquities to be national property. Next to this in interest come two other statues, like it in all respects: one discovered at Tlascala, the other marked “unknown.” This similarity of objects of art found among the populations of the plateaux and those of the Yucatan peninsula seems to point to identity of worship among those tribes. Sanchez, the director of the Museum, believes this statue to be Tetzcatzoncatl, god of wine; but Perez and Dr. Hamy are of opinion that it represents Tlaloc, god of rain, in which view I coincide. However that may be, we will speak of it at greater length when we come to Chichen-Itza, where it was unearthed. On the second plan, to the left, stands the Tlascalan Tlaloc, and behind it Quetzalcoatl, “the feathered serpent,” tutelar deity of the Toltecs, and worshipped by all American tribes; he came to have many names, and was represented under various forms, according to his multifarious attributes. He was the Zoroaster of Anahuac; “under him the earth produced fruits and flowers of its own accord. An ear of Indian corn was as much as a man could carry. The air was filled with perfumes and the sweet melody of birds,” etc.

At the extremity of the court, to the left, we find a block of serpentine with a magnificent head beautifully sculptured, marked in the catalogue as “the rising moon,” but which Bustamente thinks to be Temascaltoci, the goddess who presided over ablutions, and Chavero, one of the many forms under which Quetzalcoatl was represented. In the same line with these stands a huge block, having a hideous figure of Death, Teoyaomiqui (a goddess), besides a vast number of divinities, ranging over the whole Indian Olympus, collected under the gallery at the furthest extremity of the court, most of which are frightful, and would give a poor idea of Aztec talent, did we not know that they are all specimens of hieratic art, and as such were not permitted to vary in shape or design. And now we come to Tizoc’s stone, or Temalacatl, the sun’s stone, one of the most interesting in the collection, and connected with a bloody episode which is reported by most historians. It would have been broken up for paving the square, like many other monuments of this kind found on the same spot and about the same time, had not Canon Gamboa arrested the work of destruction, and caused the stone to be placed in the north-west side of the churchyard, where it was left undisturbed until 1824, when it was transferred to the University for a short time, and finally placed in the middle of the court of the New Museum. This monument is a block of trachyte, oblong in shape, measuring over eight feet in diameter, thirty-one feet in circumference, and some two feet six inches in depth. The surface is ornamented with two figures, portrayed in fifteen different attitudes, recalling the victories of the Emperor Tizoc. Two women are seen among the vanquished, from which it would appear that the Salic Law was not in force among the Indians. In every one of these groups Tizoc is represented holding by the hair the vanquished, who, in a supplicating posture, seems to ask for mercy. Over each figure may be seen a hieroglyph, expressive of the conquered city represented by her chief. The surface of the stone is occupied by an image of the sun, having in the centre a hole some six inches deep, which is connected with a tube terminating on the upper circumference. This hole is supposed to have been made by the Spaniards in their attempt to split the stone, which was so fortunately stopped by Canon Gamboa, but not before they had mutilated every face of the different groups. This supposition seems borne out by the fact that it was not likely the original makers would have bored a hole right through the bassi-relievi, and thus deface their own work.

The Temalacatl, or “gladiatorial stone,” as it was called by the Spaniards, must not be confused with the Techcatl, or “stone of sacrifice.” The former was always to be found in the courts of the Temple, placed over a basement varying in bulk according to the size of the stone, from which the captive, particularly if he happened to be a man of distinction, was allowed to fight against a number of enemies in succession; but, besides the inequality of numbers, he was furnished only with a wooden sword ornamented with feathers along the blade, whereas his adversaries had weapons of obsidian, “as sharp as steel.” If he succeeded in defeating them all, as did occasionally happen, he was allowed to escape, but if vanquished he was dragged to the stone, the upper surface of which was somewhat convex to receive the victim; on this the prisoner was stretched, five priests securing his head and his limbs, while a sixth, clad in a scarlet mantle, dexterously opened the breast of the victim with a sharp knife, and inserting his hand in the wound, tore out the heart, and holding it up first towards the sun—a god common to all—cast it at the face or the feet of the divinity to whom the temple was dedicated, whilst the multitudes knelt in humble adoration at the foot of the stone or pyramid ready to receive the body, which was hurled down by the priests, and which the people divided among themselves, to have it served up in an entertainment in honour of the particular god they were celebrating.

The sacrifice ceremonial, whether from the summit of the Temple or from the gladiatorial stone, was exactly the same, save that the latter, standing but a few feet from the ground, allowed the whole city to witness the ghastly details of the sight. These stones were perfectly plain or beautifully sculptured, like the one under notice, according to the teocalli it was destined for, or the degree and importance of the donor. The temalacatl or stone of Montezuma I., which up to the present time has not been found, is supposed to lie buried under the “Plaza de las Armas” in Mexico. Besides these, there was a smaller circular stone, the Cuauhxicalli, “eagle’s cup,” so called from the hearts of the victims being thrown into the hole situated in the centre, and which now, by a curious contrast, is used as a drinking trough by pigeons and small birds.12

The last Montezuma would have also erected a Temalacatl, for which a huge block of stone was transported from Aculco, beyond Lake Chalco, but in crossing a bridge which traversed one of the canals, the supports gave way, and the gigantic mass was precipitated into the water, where it still lies.

A military point of honour, as understood among the western nations of Europe, was so deeply rooted in the Indian warriors that they would suffer death rather than be guilty of any act that could lower them in the estimation of their fellow-citizens. With the Mexicans and Tlaxcaltecs, a soldier, if unfortunate enough to be made a prisoner, was reserved for sacrifice, especially if he happened to be of superior rank; to be ransomed was deemed unworthy and a disgrace. A few years before the arrival of the Spaniards, the Uexotzincas, the Tlaxcaltecs and the Mexicans were at war with each other. In one of the frequent skirmishes between the rival nations, it happened that a Tlaxcaltec chief, by name Tlahuicole, was captured. His fame as a warrior had spread far and wide; his prowess was so well known that few cared to measure their strength with his, or feel the weight of his huge tomahawk, which a man of common stature could hardly lift. But one day, in the heat of pursuit, he got far ahead of all his companions, when he was waylaid in a morass, immediately surrounded, placed in a cage, and conveyed to Mexico amidst the rejoicings of the enemy. He was brought to the Emperor MoteuhÇoma, who, on hearing his name, not only spared his life but offered him his liberty, and treated him with marked distinction. But Tlahuicole refused everything, and besought the Emperor to devote him to the gods according to custom. Seeing that he could not be prevailed upon to accept any offer, however brilliant, MoteuhÇoma gave orders that he should be tied on the gladiatorial stone and that some of his best soldiers should fight him, whilst he himself, with a numerous retinue, witnessed the scene. Tlahuicole killed successively eight men, and wounded upwards of twenty; but he succumbed at last, and was carried off to be offered to the war-god Huitzilopochtli.13

But to return: this temalacatl clearly belongs to Tizoc, for his portrait is seen on the edge of the stone, whilst a speckled leg (he is supposed to have had varices) is sculptured above his image. The monument, however, like the great temple, may have been completed by his successor Ahuitzotl between 1484-1486.

Human sacrifices were made even more revolting by cannibalism, which from the Aztecs spread among all the surrounding nations, and were adopted by the populations with which they were at war by way of reprisals. The more humane chiefs, such as Netzahualcoyotl, king of Texcuco, tried to oppose this barbarous custom; but they were obliged to yield before the ignorance of the people and the fanaticism of the priests, who seeing that the supply of prisoners of war began to fail, clamoured for more, and urged on the monarchs the necessity of sacrificing their own subjects, on the ground that they would be more easily obtained; that they would be fresher, more acceptable, and in the same condition as children and slaves. In the year 1454, the country was visited by a horrible famine, and the priests declared that the celestial wrath could only be appeased by regular and numerous sacrifices; to obtain which a treaty was entered into by the three allied kings of Mexico, Texcuco, and Tlacopan with the three republics of Tlascala, Huezotzinco, and Cholula, by which they agreed that their troops should engage to fight on the first days of each month, on the territory between Cuantepec and Ocelotepec, and thus supply themselves with human victims. The men engaged in these encounters received the terrible name of “enemies of the house,” whilst these monthly affrays are known in history as the “Holy War.” It was not on the circular Temalacatl that victims were sacrificed, but on the dreadful Techcatl, “stone of sacrifice,” which was 6 ft. 6 in. long by 3 ft. 3 in. wide, and about 3 ft. high, so as to enable the officiating priests to have a thorough command over their victim. At the dedication of the great temple of Huitzilopochtli in 1486, the prisoners who for some years had been reserved for this solemn occasion, were drawn up and ranged in files, forming a procession along the narrow causeways two miles long, when the number sacrificed is almost beyond belief, and is variously estimated at 80,000 and 20,000. The massacre lasted four days, and was begun by the kings of Mexico, Texcuco, Tacuba, and the Minister Tlacael, until they were relieved by the priests. However, the number of victims immolated has no doubt been much exaggerated.14

It is difficult to reconcile these revolting usages with a people that had made great advance in civilisation. American writers have tried to palliate the abominable practices of their ancestors, on the ground that they shared them in common with every other nation in the early stage of their history. In their eyes the Aztecs, if not commendable, were at least pardonable, and Orozco y Berra says that “human sacrifices originate from an error of the mind rather than from evil disposition; that it is the result of an exaggerated religious feeling, and not a real desire to do evil. That this institution, if philosophically considered, is not deserving of the intempestive lamentations of a few sentimental moralists.”15 “The horror I feel,” he adds, “for the revolting abuse of human sacrifice, yields to what I feel for utter impiety; I will go further, and say that I prefer human sacrifice to atheism, as I prefer the ignorant negro who bows before his fetish, to a free-thinker.” Obviously Orozco is animated with the same spirit as his ancestors. An Aztec of the olden time would have adduced better reasons, for he held that to be sacrificed on the altar of his god was even more glorious than to die in battle, since it ensured him a speedy passage into paradise; and as the enemy was never slain if there were a chance of taking him alive, the number of those who disappeared was a fixed quantity. The same argument is urged in favour of cannibalism, but it is at least doubtful if it ever existed as an institution among other civilised nations. Men, however cruel, do not feed on one another, unless obliged by an absolute necessity; and cannibalism, which no doubt existed with all primitive populations, only continued among those who were deprived of sufficient space where they could hunt and feed their flocks, and who were reduced to a scanty supply of roots and herbs for their subsistence. This was observed among the CaraÏbs at the time of the Conquest; in the islands of the Pacific, in Australia, where the soil is so poor, that although cannibalism prevails, the increase of population has to be kept down, and the recent introduction of pigs in the islands has diminished but not eradicated this ancient practice, which has never flourished with races provided with bears, reindeer, horses, and herds. This usage, which at first was a necessity, became a sacred tradition with the Aztecs, with whom religion was all-powerful; it directed the State, presided over the minutest details of domestic life, and as the influence of the priests was unbounded, peasants and princes had to bow their necks to their tyranny. They cannot be called cannibals, however, in the coarsest sense of the word, for they did not feed on human flesh to gratify their appetite, but as a duty, and in obedience to their religion; and during the long and terrible siege of Mexico not a single case of cannibalism is recorded against them by ancient authorities. Whence did they derive this religious practice? Not from the nations of the ancient continent with whom they have so much in common, for at that time cannibalism was no longer practised among the nomadic tribes of Eastern Asia; nor from Japan or China, where the people had always lived on the produce of the soil; it is probable that they received it from the CaraÏbs of the Antilles and the Polynesian races of the Pacific, who made them forget the mild teachings and higher civilisation of the Toltecs.

WRONG SACRIFICIAL COLLAR.