BELLOTE.

Return to Vera Cruz—Toltec Cities—Quotations regarding Ancient Cities—Rio Tabasco at Frontera—S. Juan Bautista—Rio GonzalÈs—Canoas—Lagoons—Bellote Islands—Kjoekkenmoedings—Temples at Bellote—Chronological and Ornamental Slabs—Las Dos Bocas—Cortez—Rio Seco—ParaÏso.

We are once more at Vera Cruz, en route for Tabasco, where we are received, as on our first arrival, with the terrible Norte, blowing so hard that no steamer can get away; and to do something I visit the Public Library, which, besides some interesting works, contains also specimens of Totonac antiquities, and a good Indian map on calico.

The wind changes, and we are at last able to go on board the steamer which is to convey us to the mouth of Rio Tabasco, sometime known as Grijalva, after the Spanish explorer; and here we leave our large ship for the river boat. The banks of this river are exceedingly flat and uninteresting; some king-fishers, some white and blue herons, now and then a crocodile, are the only things which break the monotony of this dreary scene.

We stop at a small unhealthy village called Frontera, where we have to change again for S. Juan. The heat is suffocating; our berths so close that we try the tops of our cabins, but no sooner are our mosquito curtains fixed, and ourselves, as we fondly imagine, settled for the night, than a shower of fiery sparks from the engine, which is fed with charcoal, sets our clothes on fire and obliges us to make a hasty retreat, the more so that the ship carries a large cargo of petroleum. Below, a lively night awaits us, and when from sheer weariness we fall asleep at last, we are rudely awakened by the cries of all the denizens of the forest.

A few habitations, a few fields under cultivation, some rare palm-trees, or a flock of sheep, warn us that we are getting near S. Juan. But all we can see at present from our steamer is a long line of low houses, nor is our first impression dispelled when we walk into this outlying, forlorn-looking town. Outward appearance, however, is proverbially deceitful; it is particularly so here, for S. Juan is in reality the great mart of the State, and carries on an extensive trade in cedar, mahogany, and other fine wood. The population is simple, obliging, civil, every house open to us; the Governor, a right good fellow, provides us with letters for the interior, and with men as guides and servants.

We have, unfortunately, just come in for the rainy season; the roads are turned into torrents, and so completely broken that we have to give up going to Comala by land and shall have to go by water. This will necessitate a very long detour; on the other hand it will give us the opportunity of visiting the interesting remains to be found at Bellote. Thus our misfortune will not be very great after all.

This point settled, we are soon ready to start for Tierra Colorada, a rancho some nine miles from S. Juan, on the banks of Rio GonzalÈs, where we are to find flat-bottomed canoas and bogas, “oarsmen.” These canoas are hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, have no keels, and are rowed down stream, when the maximum speed is twelve leagues a day, and three up stream. Close to the landing-place is a wooden booth, where before going on board we get about the nastiest cup of coffee I ever tasted, served with pretty grace by a handsome Meztiza. We notice the cups, made of some fruit-shell shaped on the tree whilst growing, and I am so pleased with their shape and design that I buy two for my private collection.

Our canoas, which are of average size, do not allow two to sit abreast; the awning, toldo, which is to shelter us both against sun and rain, is so low that we have to crawl in on all-fours and sit Turkish fashion. This in a few hours becomes very painful, and our position is greatly aggravated by mosquitoes. There is not a breath of wind, so that our progress is but slow, whilst the heat under cover is intolerable; but whenever I venture out I am forced back either by the scorching sun or pouring rain, and we must needs comfort ourselves as best we can with some excellent Tabasco cigars. We lose nothing, for this region is but an assemblage of savannas and stunted woods, which lie for months under water.

We soon arrive at Ceiba, a rancho, where we land to breakfast under a wide-spreading tree by the river, depositing under its cool shade our provisions and our cramped, aching limbs. Here we are detained longer than we anticipated by our men, who, after refreshing themselves at the rancho, coolly walked some three miles further on to see their sweethearts. They hurry in at last looking rather sheepish, and we find on consulting our map that our next station is twelve miles distant, and that we shall not reach it till late in the evening. The heat abates as the dusk gathers in, when we are glad to leave our hateful toldo to breathe the freshening breeze.

We are now advancing amidst the islands which occupy the mouth of the river, clad with gigantic mangroves; all around is silent, and the moon, placid but not cold in these latitudes, sheds her magic light over the landscape, shaping out fantastic groves, fairy castles, and long lines of porticoes in the openings of the forest. We are so delighted with all we see that we are quite surprised, after a run of sixteen hours, to find ourselves at the rancho of Las Islas, where we spend what remains of the night, and early the next morning start for ParaÏso.

Up to this time we have been going steadily north, but now our route bears to the west. We enter the lagoons to be found on this coast, intersected by narrow canals, and overshadowed by deep, gloomy paths. The murky water of these canals, the silence of the forest, recall the Styx, or some forgotten circle of Purgatory in which the dead wander in endless solitudes. Beautiful large butterflies, speckled with black and blue, come fluttering by, whilst a multitude of red hairy crabs glare at us out of some mangrove. Two hours’ steady rowing brings us to Bellote Islands, when, stowing our boats on the sand, we hail the first man we see, and under his escort make for the cuyos, pyramids, walking by the shore of the island, the water of which is so transparent as to enable us to spy at the bottom of the lagoon a quantity of oyster-shells; presently we come upon a gigantic bank of them measuring several miles, by more than twelve feet high, kjoekkenmoedings; the whole ground around is composed of these broken shells, over which a magnificent vegetation luxuriates.

The pyramids, which are the object of our visit, are three in number, from 195 to 325 feet at the base, by 37 to 43 in height. The temples which once stood on the summit are but a mass of ruins. Thanks to excavations made by the owner of the rancho, one side of one of the pyramids has been cleared of the vegetation and now a good view can be obtained, enabling us to perceive that it is identical in all respects with those at Tula and Teotihuacan, save that this is much smaller, the baby pattern, so to speak, of those we have hitherto visited. On the terrace crowning the pyramid a fragment of wall on an incline is still standing, covered with hard cement. This facing was composed of four layers of lime and mortar, each coating representing figures and characters in bas-reliefs, modelled in the lime coating. On removing one of these the next was discovered, almost invariably at the cost of nearly the whole bas-relief. We were fortunate in taking away intact the fragment shown in our plate, a head with retreating forehead resting on the instep of a foot which lies on a cushion. The notable feature of this profile is its similarity with those on the bassi-rilievi at Palenque, proving in my opinion the unity of civilisation of the two countries, save that priority of date must be awarded to Bellote. Besides these reliefs we found a vast quantity of broken arms, hands, ex-votos, pottery, etc.

It should be mentioned that these pyramids, unlike those at Teotihuacan, were built with shells and mud, and that baked bricks were only employed in the partition walls and those of the temples. That such materials should have been used was natural in a region where even gravel is unknown.

In speaking of the Toltec chronology, it was observed that on the new fire being rekindled, all house furniture was renewed, every dwelling and every temple repainted. Is it beyond the bounds of possibility to imagine that this custom received here its highest development, that the walls of the temples were covered with hieroglyphic coatings commemorating the age which had just elapsed, and that each succeeding century received a layer similarly inscribed? Were this presumption substantiated, a starting-point would be obtained, enabling us to state that at the Conquest in 1520, this monument was four Indian centuries, or 208 years old, plus the fraction of the century just begun. I am well aware that this hypothesis is not borne out by scientific facts, and that I cannot even claim TEMPLE BAS-RELIEF, BELLOTE. TEMPLE BAS-RELIEF, BELLOTE. the honour of being the first in starting it, for I was forestalled by Stephens, who says: “In the remotest corridor of the palace, the wall was coated with lime, and broken in various places; I counted as many as six coatings, every one of which bore traces of paintings. In a corner were characters which looked as though they had been written with black ink. In our efforts to reach this, the whole thing came down and obliged us to desist.”83

Granting our theory, the six layers at Palenque would be equivalent to 312 years, plus the fraction of the current century, which might bring it to 330 years at the Conquest, and about 690 years old up to the present time, an antiquity which may be reasonably accorded to Palenque, as the sequel will show.

As may have been noticed, these monuments are identical with those observed by the early Spaniards, and so often described by their historians; and if it is borne in mind that when the Toltecs were driven from the high plateaux they migrated south, and were found as early as 1124 established at Goatzacoalco, Tabasco, and Yucatan, by the envoys of Xolotl, the conclusion that the monuments under notice belong to this tribe must force itself upon every unbiassed mind.

We leave Bellote en route for ParaÏso, following the course of Tomo, Largo, and calling at Ceiba, a small hamlet standing amidst a glorious landscape. Here once rose Cintla, a dependency of Tabasco, and this is the river which Grijalva discovered, which Cortez navigated, and on the banks of which he fought his great battle, against 40,000 or 50,000 Indians. Many are the proofs which can be brought to confirm our opinion: this river has but one mouth, and therefore can at no time have borne the name of Las Dos Bocas; we read that Cortez was obliged to use launches on account of its shallow waters, whereas vessels of great tonnage, drawing twelve feet of water, ply daily on it; the tide, moreover, advances farther in at Frontera than is reported by Diaz.84 Herrera says that Cortez, whilst in this region, took up his position on an islet opposite the village: now there is but one very large island, and that nearly a mile below Frontera; that his soldiers crossed the river to reconnoitre, but the stream is so wide and so deep at that point, as to preclude the possibility of any fording-place; that the general traversed immense cocoa-plantations, yet none are to be seen about Frontera, whereas on Rio Seco, over which we float at this present moment, it is the principal cultivation. Herrera’s account consequently is applicable in every respect to Rio Seco, with its two mouths, its impassable bar, and its fording-places; here was fought the great battle, not far rose the Indian capital, the name of which has not come down to us, but which is known as Comalcalco at the present day; and we are of opinion that Ceiba, or Zeiba, is the village where Cortez, in the name of the king, took possession of the country.85

Cogolludo, in speaking of the first skirmishes of the Spaniards against the cacique of Tabasco, says: “They numbered over 12,000 entrenched behind some breastworks, but we made a sudden rush, forced them out of their defences, obliging them to fall back; this they did like good soldiers without turning their backs, raining showers of arrows on us, until they reached the outward buildings of some temples, from which they took all they could carry. The enemy being now in full retreat, Cortez stopped all further pursuit, and here, in the name of His Majesty, he took possession of the country, drawing his sword and making three large cuts at a huge tree, which is called Ceiba by the natives, and which grew on the terrace of the temple, exclaiming that should any one question his right, he was ready to make it good with his sword and shield.”86

It may be objected that this quotation proves nothing at all, that ceibas grow everywhere, and that the taking of possession could be easily effected on any spot of the Mexican soil. Just so; yet a remarkable coincidence is this, that no ceibas grow about the village of that name, that the one cut by Cortez, owing to the rapid growth of such trees, must long since have disappeared, and that on my inquiring for “Ceiba” at the village supposed to be it, no one seemed to know.

It is a well-ascertained fact that an appellation given in honour of a great event to a certain spot lives on when the object which gave rise to it has perished. Is it so unreasonable to suppose that the Spaniards who settled later at Ceiba, a spot consecrated by the taking of possession, on identifying Cortez’ tree, should name the village they erected after it? If I make a running comment on history, if I discover points of analogy at every step, I do so whilst visiting carefully the very places under notice, bearing in mind historical accounts. These details are of vital importance in affirming the existence of Comalcalco at the time of the Conquest, as also that Rio Seco was then a large river whose course was turned by the Spaniards to ruin the Indian city, which rose on its banks.

Of the beauty of the country between Ceiba and ParaÏso no words of expression, no painter’s brush could give an adequate idea: noble avenues of cocoa and palm-trees open out at almost every stroke of the oar; lovely plants of tender green, with light yellow clustering flowers, float down the rapid stream, forming fairy-like rafts which remind us of the Mexican chinampas. My admiration for this lovely scene around me, finds no echo among my travelling companions, who are either sleeping or differently engrossed. The longer I observe the high banks, the bed both wide and deep of this stream, now reduced to a torrent, the more firmly am I convinced that it was at some time a great river, whose course whether nature or man have altered within a comparatively recent period, and tradition here becomes historical truth.

We reach ParaÏso at last; the name had prepared us for something better than the wretched hamlet where we land. It was destroyed, it seems, in a local affray, as the ruins, the fallen trunks of large trees sufficiently attest. Outward appearance is no sure index to gauge ParaÏso or its “descalzado” inhabitants, who are in reality well-to-do. The good man who kindly offered to escort us about, is, for this country, quite wealthy; nor is he a solitary instance of friendliness, it seems to pervade the whole community. The place has no hotel or inn of any kind, but a house is easily got to serve our purpose, as much food as we want is forced upon us by these good-natured people; and if it is not quite English hospitality, it is very near it. The ParaÏsians are perfectly satisfied with their condition in life; their wishes are few, and such as the fertility of the soil will easily meet; want is unknown, life easy, the climate admits of but the scantiest clothing, and if they have more than their share of rain, they are troubled with fewer mosquitoes than most of their neighbours. In fact, these charming people are fully convinced that all is for the best in this best of worlds, and that if ParaÏso is not heaven itself, it is not far from it.