Birds and Beasts of Ancient Mesoamerica: Animal Symbolism in the Postclassic Period 1646424603, 9781646424603

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Birds and Beasts of Ancient Mesoamerica

Birds and Beasts of Ancient Mesoamerica Animal Symbolism in the Postclassic Period

Edited by

Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano

University Press of Colorado Denver

© 2023 by University Press of Colorado Published by University Press of Colorado 1580 North Logan Street, Suite 660 PMB 39883 Denver, Colorado 80203-1942 All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America The University Press of Colorado is a proud member of the Association of University Presses. The University Press of Colorado is a cooperative publishing enterprise supported, in part, by Adams State University, Colorado State University, Fort Lewis College, Metropolitan State University of Denver, University of Alaska Fairbanks, University of Colorado, University of Denver, University of Northern Colorado, University of Wyoming, Utah State University, and Western Colorado University. ∞ This paper meets the requirements of the ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper). ISBN: 978-1-64642-460-3 (hardcover) ISBN: 978-1-64642-461-0 (ebook) https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Milbrath, Susan, editor. | Baquedano, Elizabeth, editor. | Klein, Cecelia F., honouree. Title: Birds and beasts of ancient Mesoamerica : animal symbolism in the Postclassic period / edited by Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano. Description: Denver : University Press of Colorado, [2023] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023013041 (print) | LCCN 2023013042 (ebook) | ISBN 9781646424603 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781646424610 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Animals—Symbolic aspects—Central America. | Animals—Symbolic aspects—Mexico. | Animals in art. | Animals, Mythical—Central America. | Animals, Mythical—Mexico. | Animals, Mythical, in art. | Indian art—Central America. | Indian art— Mexico. | Animals—Mythology—Central America. | Animals—Mythology—Mexico. | Animals—Folklore. | Symbolism in art. | Indians of Central America—Antiquities. | Indians of Mexico—Antiquities. Classification: LCC GR705 .B497 2023 (print) | LCC GR705 (ebook) | DDC 398/.3690972—dc23/eng/20230511 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023013041 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023013042 Cover photographs courtesy Ethnologisches Museen zu Berlin.

Contents

Foreword Jeanette Favrot Peterson vii Acknowledgments Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano ix 1. Introduction Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano 3 2. Reflections on the Scholarship of Cecelia Ford Klein and on Animal Symbolism in Mesoamerica Elizabeth Hill Boone 23 3. How to Construct a Dragon for a Changing World: The Zoomorph on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza Cecelia F. Klein 35 4. Pumas and Eagles and Wolves, Oh My! The Appropriation and Alteration of Teotihuacan Processing Predators at Tula Keith Jordan 104 5. An Animal Kingdom at Chichen Itza: Reconstructing a Sculptural Tableau at the Sacred Cenote Cynthia Kristan-Graham 130

6. Iconography and Symbolism of Frogs and Toads in the Aztec World and Beyond Elizabeth Baquedano 160 7. Coyolxauhqui’s Serpents: Political Metaphors in Mexica-Azteca Sculptures Emily Umberger and Elizabeth Aguilera 180 8. Quail in the Religious Life of the Ancient Nahuas Elena Mazzetto 200 9. Lessening the Sting: Huipil Power and Deadly Scorpions Jeanne L. Gillespie 219 10. Dressed to Kill: Richly Adorned Animals in the Offerings of the Great Temple of Tenochtitlan Leonardo López Luján, Alejandra Aguirre Molina, and Israel Elizalde Mendez 244 11. Animal Symbolism in Calendar Almanacs of the Codex Borgia and Links to Postclassic Imagery in Mexico Susan Milbrath 282 12. The New Year Pages of the Dresden Codex and the Concept of Co-essence Merideth Paxton 341 13. Animal Manifestations of the Creator Deities in the Maya Codices and the Popol Vuh Gabrielle Vail and Allen Christenson 373 14. A New World Bestiary in Postclassic Mesoamerica Susan Milbrath 402 Index

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About the Authors

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CO N T EN T S

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At a time when we are ever more cognizant of the fragility of our earth and our place in it, the delicate balance between the human and animal worlds is also being tested. We recognize how closely our fates are codependent—indeed, an intimacy that can provoke fatal consequences. It seems fitting to be reminded that ancient cultures respectfully tended, even revered, a dynamic, animate nature and that ruptures in their relationship with it could result in ecological disasters. The contributing authors in this volume address many of these themes: the biodiversity that both challenged and nourished the peoples of ancient Mesoamerica; the seasonal changes that undergirded the rhythm of life; the minutely observed biological patterns of birds and beasts and the ways in which these were aligned with their cultural domains. The morphology and habitat of animals provided templates for human conduct. Certain traits such as speed, strength, industriousness, grace, and/or sheer aesthetic beauty were selected as cultural and cosmological metaphors. Not only did such dominant predators as the harpy eagle and jaguar model social and political behavior, but all animals, even the grasshopper, served as exempla. Creatures that themselves embodied contradictions were put in a special category. While hybridized animals have fascinated civilizations over time, from the sphinx and griffin to the unicorn, the most powerful Mesoamerican composites transgressed cosmic realms, such as a ubiquitous and long-lived reptile-bird that https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c000

Foreword Jeanette Favrot Peterson University of California, Santa Barbara

established dominion over the celestial and terrestrial realms. Serpents were viewed as symbols of regeneration; however, the dual-natured plumed serpent displayed extraordinary powers that were deified and adopted by the ruling elite. In this interconnected universe animals were anthropomorphized, and, conversely, humans could incarnate animal spirits. Fauna inspired Mesoamerican artists to represent their beliefs in stone, clay, and paint; traditional oral accounts were also captured in colonial documents. These permanent records provide insights into the essential role of birds and beasts, as they ordered the ritual calendar, acted as protagonists in creation tales, and, like Aesop’s fables, provided the matrix for riddles, omens, and wise adages. It is also fitting for me, and certainly an honor as her first doctoral student, to pen a brief foreword for a volume dedicated to Cecelia F. Klein. Throughout her impressive and ongoing career, she has made outstanding contributions to the field of ancient and postconquest Mesoamerican visual culture, with a focus on Aztec iconography. Her publications are grounded in an assiduously assembled body of evidence: visual, archeological, and documentary. With an owl’s sagacity, hawk’s keen sight, and ant’s tenacity, her work results in provocative interpretations that often generate fruitfully contentious dialogue. Cecelia never fails to illuminate the meaning of visual representations within the arc of history and historiography, at the same time challenging conventional methodologies and expanding theoretical approaches, from gender paradigms to Marxist ideologies. For her students Cecelia modeled the highest standards of scholarly endeavor as teacher and mentor. She demanded commensurate accuracy and productivity from her large cohort of graduates who, if intimidated by the rigor of these demands, knew they always had her ear, advocacy, and intellectual support. Editorial feedback was profuse, sometimes trenchant; papers were returned hemorrhaging red ink, giving new meaning to the Nahuatl couplet for writing, “the black, the red” (in tlilli, in tlapalli). Although Cecelia provided an invigorating and comprehensive course of study, her goals for each student were never proscriptive. It is a mark of the academic freedom she promoted that we were encouraged to forge our own paths, including pursuits into the then-burgeoning field of colonial Latin American visual culture. Thank you, Cecelia.

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F O R EWO R D

We thank Charlotte Steinhardt, who initially approached us about publishing this volume and managed the review process, and we are especially grateful to Darrin Pratt, who encouraged us along the way, and to Allegra Martschenko, who carried the volume to the finish line with the help of other Press staff members, especially Dan Pratt and Laura Furney, who oversaw the production of the volume, and the skilled copy editor, proofreader, and indexer, Alison Tartt, Jennifer Manley Rogers, and Linda Gregonis, respectively. It is with great pleasure that we dedicate this volume to Cecelia Klein for her many contributions to Mesoamerican studies and the ongoing legacy of her research, seen in the work of the many scholars she has inspired.

Acknowledgments

Birds and Beasts of Ancient Mesoamerica

1 At the time of the Spanish conquest of central Mexico in 1521, cultures in Mesoamerica shared traditions revolving around maize agriculture and a unique 260day ritual calendar that probably originated around 1100–900 BC in the Olmec heartland of the modern states of Veracruz and Tabasco. Olmec religion featured many important animal deities, including the mythical feathered serpent later known as Quetzalcoatl. Religious ideology from the heartland was carried along trade routes, spreading Olmec culture to Yucatan in the east and in the west through Mexico and the Pacific slope of Guatemala, eventually reaching as far south as Honduras and El Salvador. Olmec animal deities are represented in mural paintings, stone carvings, and portable art, such as lapidary work and ceramics that were widely dispersed in Mesoamerica. These images feature apex predators such as jaguars, owls, eagles and hawks, and composite animals representing dragon-like creatures that bear what have been described as flame brows and “pawwing” design. These creatures have crocodilian traits, leading some to interpret them as images of the earth floating on the primordial sea or possibly the Milky Way as a form of Cosmic Monster (Fields and ReentsBudet 2005, 32, 126–127, plates 26–30; Stone and Zender 2011, 76–77, figs. 1–5). Human and animal combinations are also well known in Olmec iconography, sometimes interpreted as images of shamanic transformation but more likely as a symbol of dominance and ferocity

Introduction

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Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano

(Saunders 1989, 73–74). One such image, originally named the “were-jaguar” for its combination of human and jaguar traits, more recently has been tentatively linked to imagery of the human embryo (Tate 2012, 32–33, 36–48). Throughout the history of Mesoamerica, real animals were merged with fantastical creatures, creating zoological oddities not unlike medieval European bestiaries. After the Spanish conquest these bestiaries may have inspired early colonial-period records describing animals of the New World. Friar Bernardino de Sahagún and his native informants combine Aztec concepts with European classificatory systems in Book 11 of the Florentine Codex, but this natural history volume also reflects close observation of animal behavior, life cycles, and anatomy and habitats (Berdan 1994, 153, 160). Crocodiles served as companions to the water god Tlaloc in the most important Aztec temple in the Mexica capital city, Tenochtitlan, where Offering 23 in Stage IVb of the Templo Mayor contained crocodile remains associated with images of Tlaloc (López Luján 1996, 323). In addition to observing animals in nature, animals brought from distant places in Mesoamerica were kept in royal aviaries and a vivarium or zoo maintained for the Aztec emperor, according to chroniclers such as Motolonía (Berdan 1994, 156, 158). Captive animals included jaguars, wolves, and pumas, allowing ample opportunity to study these wild animals. And this royal menagerie appears in Book 8 (fol. 31v) of the Florentine Codex, which mentions “ocelots, bears, mountain lions, and mountain cats,” and a marginal gloss in the Real Academia del la Historia manuscript heads this section as “casa de las fieras,” meaning “house of wild beasts” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 8:45n15, plate 71). The Florentine Codex plate shows a jaguar paired with a mountain lion (puma) that more closely resembles an African lion with a wooly mane and tufted tail, and an assortment of birds includes an eagle, a roseate spoonbill, and parrots, which were part of the Totocalli (“house of birds”). Evidence of this vivarium is also apparent in a structure that shows birds and felines in pens, labeled on the 1524 Nuremberg Map of Tenochtitlan as the “House of the animals” (Domus animalium), which the Spaniards considered a great curiosity (Boone 2011, 34; Mundy 1998, 27, 32). The title of this volume is inspired by the work of Elizabeth Benson, who dedicated her later career to the study of animal imagery in Precolumbian art. Her landmark exhibit, “Birds and Beasts of Ancient Latin America,” toured from coast to coast, accompanied by a book bearing the same title (Benson 1997). This volume remains one of the best overviews of animal imagery in the Americas, skillfully linking artistic images with an analysis of animal behavior and morphology. Our title also pays homage to Frances Berdan’s (1994) “Birds and Beasts in Nahua Thought,” a chapter surveying ethnohistorical sources in 4

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a homenaje volume dedicated to Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Publications in Spanish featuring animal imagery include Carmen Aguilera’s (1985) Flora y fauna mexicana: Mitología y tradiciones, an important early contribution to the literature. Another seminal volume published in Mexico is Carlos R. Beutelspacher’s (1989) Las mariposas entre los antiguos Mexicanos. Two other volumes published in Mexico are also noteworthy because they include chapters featuring studies of animal imagery: Animales y plantas en la cosmovisión mesoamericana, edited by Yolotl González Torres (2001), and Iconografía mexicana IX and X: Flora y fauna, edited by Beatríz Barba Ahuatzin and Alicia Blanco Padilla (2009). This 2009 volume features a chapter on Mesoamerican butterfly imagery, a contribution analyzing Maya imagery of frogs and toads, and a broad survey of feline imagery throughout Mesoamerica by Alicia Blanco Padilla and Reina Cedillo Vargas. They point out that jaguars are called ocelotl in early sources, using the tupí-guaraní word meaning “fierce beast.” Several chapters represent site-specific or sourcespecific studies of fauna. These include an analysis of the mollusks represented at Teotihuacan, a chapter on the animals represented in cave art in the Valley of Mezquital (Hidalgo), and serpents repesented prominently in the lienzos of Coixtlahuaca. Another chapter on the Borgia Group directional almanacs by Sergio Sánchez Vásquez includes comparisons of the Borgia Group representations of birds on the directional trees (see also chapter 11, this volume). Alfredo López Austin’s (1990, 1993) comprehensive study of the role opossums play in Mesoamerican mythology, cosmology, and art was published in both Spanish and English editions. Eva Hunt’s (1977) The Transformation of the Hummingbird is a tour de force study of the role of the hummingbird in myth and religion and emphasizes the role of seasonality in the imagery. Another important contribution is Doris Heyden’s (1989) monograph tracing the symbolism of the eagle and cactus in the foundation legend of the Aztec capital (she also published a similar study in Spanish). Heyden’s work combines an interest in iconography and natural history, a vital connection that is also apparent in her homenaje volume, which includes chapters authored by several scholars who are also contributors in this volume (Quiñones Keber 2000). Other seminal studies featuring animal imagery include Jeanette Peterson’s (1983) Flora and Fauna Imagery in Precolumbian Cultures and her Mingei International Museum exhibition catalog, Precolumbian Flora and Fauna: Continuity of Plant and Animal Themes in Mesoamerica Art (Peterson 1990). We are pleased that she has contributed the foreword to this volume, not only because she is on the forefront of early studies of Mesoamerican animal imagery, but also because she was Cecelia Klein’s first PhD student. I N T RO D U C T I O N

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Now we are delighted to honor Cecelia Klein with her own homenaje volume, a process that began when we organized a Society for American Archaeology symposium on animal symbolism in Postclassic Mesoamerica. We met in Albuquerque in 2019 to present papers in her honor and, not surprisingly, Cecelia’s contribution was one of the most interesting in the session. Over the past decade she has studied ideological links between the Maya and central Mexico at Chichen Itza, and her work on animal images in this context serves as an inspiration for our volume. Because Mesoamerica incorporates so many different cultures and time periods, we chose to focus on the Postclassic period, the main period of Cecelia’s research. This is an era when a new “international style” was created through widespread trade. Characterized by a shared iconography, this style spanned from central Mexico to the Yucatan Peninsula and south to Belize. Study of this last period of Precolumbian art in Mesoamerica, AD 900–1521, is greatly enhanced by ethnohistorical sources dating to the early colonial period, when Spanish conquerors documented indigenous concepts in an attempt to understand an alien New World.

THE MESOAMERICAN BACKGROUND

Many of our chapters focus on Nahuatl-speaking cultures from the Valley of Mexico, which are well represented in the ethnohistorical records and Aztec artistic traditions. The term Aztec refers to Nahuatl-speaking inhabitants of the Valley of Mexico, the dominant community at the time of the Spanish conquest. The Mexica living in the capital of Tenochtitlan were the most powerful group. During the rise of the Mexica, ca. AD 1325–1521, they expanded their territory by conquest, controlling distant provinces by collecting tribute from a widespread area of Mesoamerica and establishing military outposts. Their tribute rolls show the Mexica-Aztec hegemony even extended into the Maya area of Chiapas at Zinacantan, and they also established an outpost to the east at Xicalango, Campeche, as a gateway to the Yucatec Maya area. Despite their far reach, the Aztec tribute empire did not include neighboring communities in the Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley, which shared traditions closely related to the Aztecs as well as their Nahuatl language. The Tlaxcalans fought constantly with the Aztecs, but when the Spanish conquerors attacked the city states in Tlaxcala, Tlaxcaltecas decided to form an alliance and help the Spaniards to conquer the Valley of Mexico and areas to the south and west. Extensive colonial-period records are available for the Valley of Mexico, including Sahagún’s twelve-volume Florentine Codex, and an earlier work called the Primeros Memoriales. And, given the topic of this volume, it is 6

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especially noteworthy that Sahagún’s Book 11 is devoted to natural history and includes detailed descriptions of the animal world. Although questions have been raised about the degree of European influence in these texts (Palmeri Capesciotti 2001), others find authenticity in the Nahuatl texts, including the emphasis on color in descriptions of animals (Bassett 2019, 140, 148, 150; Berdan 1994). The Spanish Relaciones Geográficas are also important sources of information for surrounding communities, especially those in the Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley. Colonial-period painted books are invaluable for study of animal imagery. Many are formatted like European folios with the addition of Spanish or Nahuatl glosses. A few take the form of screen-fold books, more like traditional Mesoamerican codices, but no Precolumbian Aztec codices have survived. Fortunately, the Tlaxcalan allies of the Spaniards gave them Precolumbian codices as gifts, and this may be how some manuscripts made their way to Europe early on. The Codex Borgia is a masterpiece of Precolumbian manuscript painting and the namesake of a group of related divinatory codices dating prior to the conquest (chapter 11, this volume). The Borgia Group codices incorporate many unique elements, but they also share canonical content with the colonial-period divinatory codices from the Valley of Mexico, a region that offers a treasure trove of ethnohistorical sources that serve as a foundation for studies of all manner of subjects relating to the Aztecs and their neighbors. The documentary sources are more limited in the Maya area, which extends from the Yucatan Peninsula south to the border of Honduras and El Salvador, but major resources include Friar Diego de Landa’s account written about 1566 (chapter 12) and traditional legends, such as the Popol Vuh, recorded in highland Guatemala during the colonial period (chapter 13). The regions of highest development among the Postclassic Maya are in Yucatan and along the east coast south to Belize, but notable centers were found in the Peten lakes region and highland Guatemala. When dealing with different culture areas, the major periods are not always uniform. For example, the collapse of Teotihuacan in Central Mexico is now dated ca. AD 500, whereas the Early Classic extends to AD 600 in the Maya area. A similar situation occurs in the early Postclassic, which begins around AD 900 or 950 and ends 1150 or 1200, depending on the culture area and whether the preceding period is identified as the Epiclassic or Terminal Classic, two periods that overlap but are not identical in length. And the same could be said for the dates of the Spanish conquest, which is firmly dated to 1521 in Central Mexico but took much longer in the Maya area. The Spanish conquest of the Maya area came through separate campaigns. One led by Montejo had subjugated key cities in Yucatan by 1541, but the Itza I N T RO D U C T I O N

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Maya of the Peten lakes region held out for much longer, only falling under Spanish control in 1697. This area had remained a center of Maya occupation after the collapse of the Classic Maya political system in the southern lowlands around AD 800/900, when some of the Maya populations migrated north to major cities like Chichen Itza, which remained powerful during the late Epiclassic and early Postclassic (AD 800–1150/1200). Other cities in the Yucatan Peninsula rose to prominence later during the late Postclassic (AD 1150/1200–1521), most notably Mayapan, a capital city until around 1450, and cities along the east coast, such as Tulum, which was still occupied at the time the Spanish galleons traveled along its shores.

RESOURCES FOR STUDY OF POSTCLASSIC ANIMAL IMAGERY

Spanish chroniclers and their indigenous informants document the importance of animals in the context of rituals and political and agricultural symbolism, mythology, the calendar and cosmology. Animal symbolism in Postclassic mural paintings and sculptures and animal images in painted books can be carefully interpreted with the aid of colonial-period documents, especially the accounts by friars Landa and Sahagún, written in the mid-sixteenth century, and those written somewhat later by Jacinto de la Serna and Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón. Sahagún’s accounts record the influence of animals in divination practices and his observations of natural history (Books 4 and 11). Animal metaphors are important in his Book 6, a study of the annual festivals in Book 2 provides useful data on animal symbolism, as does Friar Diego Durán’s Book of the Gods and Rites and The Ancient Calendar. Our understanding of animal symbolism in Postclassic Mesoamerica is also enhanced by an analysis of the architectural context of animal imagery and the remains of animals in the archaeological record, especially animals that were killed for ritual purposes. Observations of animal morphology contributed substantially to Mesoamerican concepts of animal symbolism. Nahuatl names often included morphological features such as the “horns” on the snake called by a name that translates as “deer snake” (Berdan 1994, 160; Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:79). The Nahuatl names for the common teal and the broad-tailed hummingbird included the word quetzal to show their resemblance to this much-prized bird (Berdan 1994, 160; Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:24, 34). The Aztecs counted the rattles on the tail of the rattler to tell its age, and they recorded that the opossum changed its fur color with age (Berdan 1994, 158–159; Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:75–76). Physical features such as the sharp talons of the eagle and the spotted breast of the quail were incorporated in animal symbolism (chapters 3, 8). 8

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They also noted the nocturnal behavior of the jaguar and the opossum carrying its young in a pouch. The firey sting of the scorpion certainly was much feared, and possibly this creature is related to seasonal imagery associated with the scorpion constellation (chapters 9, 11; Milbrath 1999, 264–266; Vail 1997). Seasonality apparent in animal behavior was clearly important in animal symbolism (chapters 6, 11). Noting the absence of hummingbirds in the winter, the Aztecs believed they died during the winter dry season to be reborn in the spring, following the solar cycle (Berdan 1994, 154, 156, 159). Antler-shedding of male deer in spring was also noteworthy (Olivier 2015, 152, 377). The Maya Codex Madrid almanacs feature springtime deer-trapping picturing bucks that have shed their antlers (Vail 1997, 108–109, figs. 3–18, 3–29). Scenes representing bucks without antlers in the Codex Borgia may also be related to springtime (chapter 11). Mesoamerican people claimed a close affinity with animals, and one of the most pervasive ideas is that individuals have animal companion spirits, a concept recorded among the Classic Maya that still survives today as the tonalme in Sierra Nahuat communities (Taggart 1983, 59, 142, 199). This isolated group living in the mountains of Puebla say that people with special powers (nagualme) can transform into animals. In earlier times, the Aztecs associated jaguars and owls with shamanic transformations (Berdan 1994, 154). James Taggart (1983, 141–142) proposed that the intimate relationship between humans and animals distinguishes the Aztecs and their descendants from the culture of the Hispanics, and he pointed out that these traditional communities depict their gods in animal form, unlike the Europeans. For the spelling of Maya and Nahuatl words, we are not using the accents often seen in Spanish spellings of these words, and, more significantly, the reader will notice different spellings for these words in different chapters. This is the case, in part, because the spellings that have been in use traditionally are often based on colonial-period sources. We want our authors to use the system that they determine best fits their work. For example, the Nahuatl spelling for the name of the creature scholars have commonly called the earth monster in chapter 10 is Tlaltecuhtli, whereas it is Tlalteuctli in chapter 3. The latter represents an alternate spelling seen in some colonial sources. Even the name of the last Aztec ruler (1502–1520) is spelled differently in different chapters. Motecuhzoma (chapter 10) is also known as Moctezuma (chapter 7) and Moteuczoma, replacing Montezuma, the spelling preserved in works published in the nineteenth century. A similar situation applies to Maya orthography, which traditionally followed spellings developed in Spanish colonial documents. More recently, I N T RO D U C T I O N

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Maya scholars have adopted new spellings to more accurately reflect the way the words should be pronounced. For example, based on colonial Yucatec spellings, in chapter 12 the animal companion or “co-essence” is called uay and the five-day period at year-end is uayeb, whereas in chapter 13 these same terms are spelled Way and Wayeb’ (capitalized and without italics). The latter represents a system first published in 1963, which transcribed contemporary Yucatec phonetically (Blair and Vermont-Salas 1965). This also reflects the pronunciation preferred in Maya areas. Other variations in orthography have developed over the second half of the twentieth century and modifications continue to this day. To assist the reader, we have cross-referenced the Maya and Nahuatl terms in the index.

TOPICS AND THEMES

The Epiclassic and Postclassic periods featured in our book are by no means an afterthought in Mesoamerican art history, for painted manuscripts, mural painting, lapidary arts, gold work, and monumental stone carvings dating to AD 800–1521 are exceptional resources for iconographic studies. The chapters that follow focus on two areas that offer rich resources for study of animal imagery and animal remains: the highlands of central Mexico, home to the Aztecs and Toltecs, and the Maya area of Yucatan, believed to be the origin point for several Maya codices and home to Chichen Itza, an important archaeological site referenced in several chapters here. Both areas offer welldeveloped art traditions and ethnohistorical sources from the colonial period useful in interpreting Mesoamerican concepts. Our introduction in chapter 1 sets the stage for iconographic studies of reptiles, amphibians, birds, and fierce mammals, with a focus on persistent themes in the symbolism and the chronological periods and geographical context of the imagery. In chapter 2, “Reflections on the Scholarship of Cecelia Ford Klein and on Animal Symbolism in Mesoamerica,” Elizabeth Boone provides a broad bibliographic background for contributions to Postclassic art history made by Cecelia Klein and also highlights important themes related to animal symbolism represented in this volume. Boone’s discussion demonstrates the breadth of Klein’s scholarship and the gift she has for selecting topics at the forefront of scholarly research. Boone also synthesizes prominent themes in our volume and offers her own thoughts about animal imagery. She notes how multifaceted and multivalent animals are in Postclassic symbolism and insightfully points out that “like humans, animals are sentient agents, somewhat distinct from humankind but not altogether separate from them either.” 10

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In chapter 3, “How to Construct a Dragon for a Changing World: The Zoomorph on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza,” Klein presents a detailed analysis of the central figure, part bird, part snake, and part crocodile, which carries an enigmatic deity in its jaws. Focusing on a Maya site for the first time in her research, Klein bravely ventures into a complex topic studied by numerous scholars. The rigor of her methodology is an inspiration for us all, and her bibliography represents an important guide for future research. Her analysis of the “Composite Creature” on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza, dated either to the late Epiclassic (AD 800–950) or the early Postclassic (AD 950–1150/1200) period, incorporates a broad range of material, with over fifty references to the Aztecs and more than seventy references to Classic-period Mesoamerica. Her careful study of the animal traits featured on this creature led her to identify the image as a form of “theosynthesis” that combines several different animals and blends traditions from central Mexico and the Maya area. The conflation of Mexican and Maya deities on a platform that was probably used for royal investiture was clearly designed to communicate with a multicultural population. Klein suggests that the platform’s iconography, representing powerful creator deities who controlled the earth’s vegetation, conveyed a message of hope to Chichen Itza’s inhabitants at a time when climate change (i.e., drought) made food production a major concern for everyone who lived there. Chapter 4, Keith Jordan’s contribution, “Pumas and Eagles and Wolves, Oh My! The Appropriation and Alteration of Teotihuacan Processing Predators at Tula,” examines images of predatory animals, some eating human hearts, on the early Postclassic relief friezes of Pyramid B at Tula. He shows how the iconography was inspired by Teotihuacan murals, but represented at Tula in a modified format and context. Many previous interpretations of these reliefs were limited to explaining them as a form of intimidation directed at the Tula polity’s vassals and enemies. Jordan focuses on other possible reasons for Tula’s borrowing of this Teotihuacan imagery and its reuse in sculptures designed for public space on a monument dedicated to royal accession and the legitimation of rulership. Recent evidence from Teotihuacan in the form of fragmentary reliefs of jaguars eating hearts on the Adosada platform, added to the Pyramid of the Sun around AD 300–400, suggests that a shift from residential to public space may have already started at the “City of the Gods,” but the context of the animal iconography is still quite different from its use at Tula. Imagery used mostly in private domestic spaces at Teotihuacan was transferred to public buildings at Tula, which reflects a strategy that equated monumental spaces in Tula Grande with domestic spaces linked to ancestry. Thus, the Pyramid B I N T RO D U C T I O N

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carnivores probably represent lineages of real or fictive Teotihuacan descent, as well as warrior sodalities of Teotihuacan origin at Tula, ruling in coalition with or supporting the rulers depicted on the Pyramid B pillar reliefs. Chapter 5, Cynthia Kristan-Graham’s “An Animal Kingdom at Chichen Itza: Reconstructing a Sculptural Tableau at the Sacred Cenote,” explores the role of animal imagery in buildings, planned spaces, and rock carvings that blended with the landscape to form meta-narratives. She emphasizes the context of animal imagery around the Sacred Cenote, a limestone sinkhole that was a major focus of rituals. The cenote rim features frogs carved from the “living rock,” and at one time sculptures of jaguars and snakes were also found there. These animals allude to fertility, rulership, and the night. Imagery on ceramics in the nearby temple, and the mammals and reptiles, insects, fish, and birds that inhabit cenotes, echo these themes. They are also associated with watery worlds and concepts of death. And, as Kristan-Graham so aptly notes, frogs “announce rain, and the onset of the rainy season, with thunderous croaking and frantic hopping.” In chapter 6, “Iconography and Symbolism of Frogs and Toads in the Aztec World and Beyond,” Elizabeth Baquedano discusses the context of amphibians in the archaeological record of the Templo Mayor and explores evidence from ethnohistorical and ethnographic records relevant to their symbolism. Her chapter also analyses the morphology and behavior of anurans (frogs and toads) for iconographic parallels. She notes that even today frogs and toads remain Mesoamerican symbols of the rainy season, the time of year when they are more commonly seen and heard. Their seasonal behaviors are linked with earth deities and the Postclassic rain god, Tlaloc. Both frogs and toads undergo metamorphosis, an important biological process associated with seasonality. Some species of anurans are active above ground only in the reproductive period and spend the dry season underground, and she proposes that images of Tlaltecuhtli may relate to the toad species that live underground in the dry season. Toads are certainly important very early on in Mesoamerica; they may be depicted in Olmec art and are clearly represented in the art of Preclassic Izapa. Thousands of years later, frogs are featured in an Aztec (Mexica) altar at Tenochtitlan’s Templo Mayor, and many other material objects with amphibian traits have been found at the site, though skeletal remains of frogs and toads are surprisingly rare in the archaeological assemblage (see also Baquedano 2022). Chapter 7 by Emily Umberger and Elizabeth Aguilera, “Coyolxauhqui’s Serpents: Political Metaphors in Mexica-Aztec Sculptures,” focuses on questions about serpents and gender associations in Aztec art—issues raised by a ceramic fragment that is in storage at the Brooklyn Museum. This image 12

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depicts Coyolxauhqui, the archenemy of the Aztec supernatural patron, Huitzilopochtli, with two different imaginary serpents, a serpent belt like those worn by fertility goddesses, here represented by a double-headed coral snake (maquixcoatl), and a fire serpent (xiuhcoatl) piercing her torso like a solar dart launched by her male rival. The role of the double-headed coral snake in this imagery is especially important and stands in contrast to imagery of the rattlesnake, the serpent most closely linked to the ruler in Aztec thought. Chapter 8 by Elena Mazzetto, entitled “Quail in the Religious Life of the Ancient Nahuas,” focuses on imagery of the quail (Cyrtonyx montezumae), called zolin in Nahuatl sources that record Aztec culture of the late Postclassic period. Despite the important role played by quail in Postclassic social and religious life, this bird has been neglected in the study of central Mexican iconography. Mazzetto’s chapter analyzes the rites involving quail, the associated divinities and characters, as well as the specific contexts for rituals involving quail. These small birds were often killed to honor divine entities, being sacrificed in front of their effigies, and sometimes were consumed during related ritual events. Mazzetto synthesizes the symbolism of quail in these rituals and discusses their physical characteristics and representation in the codices as well as their role in religious life. She concludes that the spotted patterning of the quail feathers was seen as an icon of the starry sky, and the quail’s role in rituals and mythology can be linked to nocturnal imagery. In chapter 9, “Lessening the Sting: Huipil Power and Deadly Scorpions,” Jeanne Gillespie studies Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón’s Tratado de las supersticiones (1626) for clues about scorpion symbolism, documented in local lore more than 100 years after the arrival of Europeans. The Tratado recorded invocations and prayers to specific divinities. Some assured a good catch or hunt, whereas others were meant to protect against poisonous or painful bites or stings. One of Ruiz de Alarcón’s most intriguing accounts is a myth about the creation of the scorpion. This tale recounts how three Aztec goddesses, named Citlalicue (Star-her-skirt), Chalchiuhtlicue ( Jade-her-skirt), and Xochiquetzal (Flowerquetzal), interacted with a warrior-priest called Yappan while he was serving penance to improve his military prowess. As a result of contact with these divinities, Yappan was transformed into a deadly scorpion; however, one of the goddesses interceded to lessen the power of the poison. Ruiz de Alarcón recorded that the common practice for curing scorpion bites was to tie off the afflicted body part and cover the victim with a huipil, while invoking the goddesses for healing. Gillespie’s study also examines the broader context of Postclassic scorpion imagery, noting parallels with Borgia Group codices and Maya codices, and the context of scorpion constellations in art and ethnohistorical sources. I N T RO D U C T I O N

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In chapter 10, “Dressed to Kill: Richly Adorned Animals in the Offerings of the Great Temple of Tenochtitlan,” Leonardo López Luján, Alejandra Aguirre Molina, and Israel Elizalde Méndez focus on faunal remains in offerings excavated by the Templo Mayor Project (1978–2020) of Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) over the course of four decades. More than 200 Mexica offerings buried between the fourteenth and sixteen centuries contain rich deposits that include human skeletal remains and an unusual diversity of plants, animals, minerals, and cultural objects. Prominent among the offerings are the vestiges of tens of thousands of animals from more than 500 species, including a particularly interesting set of carnivorous mammals and birds of prey that were sacrificed in ritual ceremonies and entombed in temples and under plaza floors. The corpses of these animals were adorned with all sorts of ornaments and insignia (e.g., anklets, belts, chest and back pendants, necklaces, ear and nose pieces, bracelets, loincloths, offensive and defensive arms, scepters) made of reed, wood, gold, copper or bronze, metamorphic greenstone, turquoise, flint, and shell. The authors carefully analyze the archaeological contexts of such offerings and the symbolism of the “dressed” animals in light of native pictography and sixteenth-century descriptions. Milbrath’s chapter 11, “Animal Symbolism in Calendar Almanacs of the Codex Borgia and Links to Postclassic Imagery in Mexico,” focuses on representations of animals in an almanac on Codex Borgia 49–53 and encoded calendar cycles. Ten scenes include animals attacking one another, scenes of struggle involving animals and anthropomorphic gods, animal sacrifices, and world trees with birds that represent the cardinal directions. Representing a cosmogram of time and space, this almanac repeats scenes with variations related to different cardinal directions and the four yearbearers naming the year. These include rituals that show fire drilling and animal sacrifice related to the Aztec Izcalli festival at year-end. The world tree in these scenes also finds a parallel in ethnohistorical accounts of trees erected during the festival of Izcalli. Numerology may come into play because all the birds perched on these trees can be linked to a set of “Volatiles” representing numbers, a series of thirteen flying creatures best known from Aztec sources. Most of the animals in the directional almanac also find counterparts among the day signs in the calendar, because half of the 20 day signs represent animals. The chapter closes with a discussion of ten animals that appear as calendar day signs and their associated symbolism in Postclassic central Mexico. Chapter 12, Merideth Paxton’s contribution entitled “The New Year Pages of the Dresden Codex and the Concept of Co-essence,” examines imagery of opossums in the Dresden Codex, a Postclassic Maya document from the 14

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Yucatan Peninsula. The opossums in the panels at the top of the New Year pages (25–28) are clearly associated with the uayeb, the five nameless, unlucky days that mark the end of the 365-day haab. A glyph in the accompanying text, T572, was first read as the logograph WAY (or UAY), referring to the uayeb. Subsequently, scholars established T539 as another logograph read as WAY, with the meaning “co-essence” in the Classic Maya period. Thus, T572 came to be regarded as the codical variant of T539, and this interpretation remains most common in recent scholarly research, although the anthropomorphic opossums are now also described as naguals, a form of animal alter ego. Paxton’s chapter reexamines the symbolism underlying these invented creatures in the New Year pages and analyzes the use of T572 in the codices, arguing that the opossums symbolize the uayeb and that co-essence is indeed the best classificatory term for these creatures. In this instance the reference is most likely to a link between the opossums and other deities named in the description of the New Year ritual in an account attributed to Friar Diego de Landa. Chapter 13, contributed by Gabrielle Vail and Allen Christenson, is entitled “Animal Manifestations of the Creator Deities in the Maya Codices and the Popol Vuh.” The Maya creator Itzamna, for example, has aspects corresponding to a bird, a turtle, and a crocodile, whereas the aged “God L” may be linked to the opossum in its anthropomorphic form (Pawah-Ooch) and to the owl. The authors examine figures named with the pawah (or itzam) prefix in the Postclassic Maya codices, a term best known for its relationship to an aged deity with a human-like appearance. This anthropomorphic god plays an important role in yearbearer ceremonies in the Madrid Codex, whereas animal deities named with the same prefix include turtles, crocodilians, and opossums. Similar patterning appears in the Popol Vuh, an early colonial manuscript from the K’iche’ region of highland Guatemala, where the aged male creator (Xpiyacoc) is associated with turtles (the coc in his name likely means ‘turtle’) and opossums (under the name Hunahpu Uch), and one of his sons (Xbalanque) has a special relationship with jaguars (balan, aka balam) and deer (que). The authors find that the Popol Vuh represents both day and night aspects of the creators, with Xmucane being associated with the coati (day) and coyote (night), whereas Xpiyacoc is linked to the peccary (day) and opossum (night), reflecting the times when these animals are most active. The final chapter (14) summarizes the chapters and provides keys to important themes that can be explored by scholars studying other periods of time. This chapter also emphasizes the multiple levels of symbolism associated with individual animals, such as the jaguar, associated with rulership and warriors but also sometimes represented as a lunar symbol, as noted in the section that follows. I N T RO D U C T I O N

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PERSISTENT THEMES IN ANIMAL IMAGERY

Here we can only highlight a few recurrent themes in Mesoamerican animal symbolism, some of which can be seen as universal images. When we look at animal imagery in a larger context, certain notable patterns emerge. Ice Age cave art in Europe emphasized hunted animals, and there was apparently a strong connection between the living being and its image, so that the painted animal functioned as a double, and its symbolic slaughter helped ensure the hunt would be successful ( Jung et al. 1964, 261). This idea is supported by remains in fires of animals such as bison, reindeer, and horses, but for lion-like creatures a more complex relationship may have existed (Packer and Clottes 2000). Lions depicted in a startling panel on one wall of the End Chamber of the Chauvet cave appear to be hunting a whole host of animals, some of which were also hunted by humans, such as bison (Clottes 2003). In that scene, Jean Clottes speculates that some distorted or misshapen lions are in the process of shape-shifting. In the chamber on a rock protrusion that ends in a point (the Sorcerer Panel or pendant), a bison-headed “man” is shown mounting a vulva associated with two legs, evoking the lower half of a woman. Images of animals as targets for hunters to symbolize a form of magic for success in hunting is also seen in Postclassic hunting almanacs of the Codex Borgia (22) and the Maya Codex Madrid (39–49), which is a divination almanac showing deer-trapping (Vail 1997, 73–109; 2013, 107–127). Similar concepts animate contemporary Maya hunting rituals, which represent a form of hunting magic conducted in caves or rock outcrops (Brown and Emery 2008). Ethnographic data throughout the Maya area documents the importance of negotiating with the animal guardian of the forest, for permission of the animal guardian was required before the hunt could commence or land could be cleared for farming. The supernatural Deer God, Huk Sip, had to be appeased in order to convert forest into farmland (Stone and Zender 2011, 78). Accounts from the Lake Atitlán area in Guatemala note that nonhuman agents involved in the hunt include the animal guardian, specific rock outcrops, rock shelters and caves, the hunted animal itself, hunting dogs, weapons, and the skeletal remains from successfully killed quarry (Brown and Emery 2008, 310–311). Tzutujil informants from Santiago Atitilán recount that when the hunting shrine of Pa’ Ruchi’ Abaj was in use, hunters offered domesticated animals, such as roosters, sheep, or beef, once every twenty days, and they reported that the great boulder thundered open as the animal guardian emerged to take the offerings into his cave. If he was pleased with the gifts, he appeared to hunters in dreams telling each how many animals they could take, and similar rituals may have been performed by the Classic Maya (Brown and Emery 2008, 323, 326–327). 16

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Dancers wearing animal masks are a central feature of rituals that survive today among many Mesoamerican groups, which suggests that people symbolically transform into animals during certain festivals. The Voladores dance involves monkey-man impersonators and bird men that are identified as eagles representing the sun (Bassie-Sweet 2008, 71). And monkey impersonators also play a role in the Tzotzil Carnival festival in Chamula (Stone and Zender 2011, 84). The Deer Dance of Santiago Atitlán features dancers wearing deer pelts, and a “baby jaguar” appears in the form of a stuffed squirrel (Fields and Reents-Budet 2005, 94). The baby jaguar is an important icon in Classic Maya art, and scenes of its sacrifice have been interpreted as a substitute for the children who were killed in rituals to bring rain in other Mesoamerican cultures (Stone and Zender 2011, 30–31). Although our volume focuses on Postclassic animal symbolism, several chapters include examples from the Preclassic and Classic periods, and here we add a few more salient examples to show persistent patterns in Mesoamerican art. Anthropomorphic animals seem to play a role in scenes showing dance in Classic Maya iconography (Looper 2009). For example, a cylinder vessel in the Princeton University Art Museum shows dancers wearing animal attributes among the alter egos or way of kings from Caracol and Ceibal (Miller and Martin 2004, 157, plate 88). In middle Preclassic Olmec art, Stelae 2 and 3 from La Venta and Chalcatzingo petroglyphs show figures wearing animal masks in poses that could represent figure dancing or flying around the ruler (Milbrath 1979, 36, figs. 68, 69, 71). Animal masks are evident in Classic Maya art in royal contexts, which indicates that the masked ruler plays the role of an animal deity in specific contexts. This is seen on Tikal Lintel 3, Temple IV, where the ruler wears a mosaic serpent helmet forming a see-through mask (Harrison 1999, fig. 94; Jones 1977, fig. 11; Milbrath 1999, plate 15). A somewhat different helmet is worn by the ruler on Dos Pilas Stela 1, here shown with an elongated reptile snout with a prominent nose on top, most likely representing a crocodilian (Schele and Miller 1986, fig. 1.4e). Similar helmets appear on rulers during the Preclassic, as on Kaminaljuyu Stela 11, dated as early as 100 BC, but here the helmet may represent a bird deity (Stone 1995, 73, fig. 4-61; Schele and Miller 1986, fig. 2.2). In the late Preclassic the ruler at Izapa is dressed as a bird deity on Stela 2 and Stela 4, and similar images are known from painted ceramics of the Classic Maya (Fields and Reents-Budet 2005, 40–41, 44, 104, 152, plates 6, 53; Guernsey 2006: 86–89; 103–105, figs. 3.2, 3.11, 5.18). As early as 800/900 BC, a man wearing a helmet representing a bird on La Venta Monument 19 is cradled by a feathered serpent (Milbrath 1979, fig. 70; I N T RO D U C T I O N

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Stone 1995, 51, fig. 4-9). The bird may be the harpy eagle, so important in Olmec iconography (Coggins 2015, 117–120, figs. 5.9, 5.10). Here the serpent may symbolize the protector or alter ego of an Olmec ruler, and the cult of feathered serpent certainly was widespread at this time, as seen in Olmec cave paintings from Juxtlahuaca and Oxtotitlan in Guerrero (Stone 1995, 48–49, figs. 4-1, 4-7). Over two thousand years later, Mesoamerican rulers and the serpent remained closely connected. The Aztecs believed if someone was able to stay seated on a mat of intertwined serpents, slithering and still alive, he would earn the right to rule (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:80–81, fig. 262). The double-headed serpent is a standard symbol of rulership for many centuries in the Maya area (Fields and Reents-Budet 2005, 17–19, 71, 165, plate 63). A Maya carving dating around AD 750 represented on Tikal Lintel 3, Temple IV, depicts a double-headed feathered serpent arching over the ruler ( Jones 1977, fig. 11). In this case, it closely resembles a creature known as the “Cosmic Monster,” which has two different heads, one of which depicts a crocodilian with deer attributes. This doubleheaded creature, prominent in Classic Maya art between AD 600 and 900, also called the Starry Deer Crocodile, most likely represents the Milky Way (Milbrath 1999, 277–282, fig. 7.5, plate 15; Stuart 2005, 72, figs. 43, 45, 46). Fierce animals attacking human figures in Olmec relief carving on the rock faces at Chalcatzingo seem to be deities themselves, such as scenes showing humans attacked by a snake with wings and a raptor’s beak on Monument 5 and the pair of jaguars wearing deity headdresses on Monument 4 (Grove 1984, figs. 29, 30; Saunders 1989, 74). This pattern persists in later art, where snakes, eagles, and jaguars attack humans or anthropomorphic deities, as on Codex Borgia pages 45, 50, 67 (chapter 11). Jaguars also play an important part in Maya images of rulership (Fields and Reents-Budet 2005, 155, 184, plate 94). Classic Maya rulers at Tikal have jaguar protectors, as on Lintel 3, Temple I, where a deity known as the Water-lily Jaguar looms over the ruler on his throne, and Lintel 2, Temple IV, shows a giant Jaguar God of the Underworld forming a canopy over the ruler (Harrison 1999, fig. 77; Jones 1977, figs. 1, 12). Jaguars played an important role in the Classic Maya as a “co-essence” known as way, a term used for wizards and animal transformations among the contemporary Maya (Houston and Stuart 1989, 5, figs. 1, 2). Here the way relates to the concept of an animal that has a special relationship with humans, perhaps even an alter ego like the Nahuat tonalme. As John Hoopes and David Mora-Marín (2009, 312–313) note, in shamanic trances to cure illness the “association of the animal co-essence with trance and dreaming emphasizes how this entity operated in a liminal state. . . . [and] this dream state as an animal provided a context 18

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for discerning and combating illness.” As they point out, in tropical lowland cultures a jaguar is often the animal involved in a shamanic transformation. Central Mexican mythology links the Moon God with a jaguar that is paired with the solar eagle in the legend of the birth of the sun at Teotihuacan. Often interpreted as a solar symbol in Maya art (Stone and Zender 2011, 83), jaguars seem more strongly related to lunar iconography and stellar imagery associated with Venus, especially contexts related to warfare (Milbrath 1999, 120–135, fig. 4.5, plate 16). Jaguar imagery seems especially linked with warfare in some Classic Maya contexts (Stone and Zender 2011, 82–83). A mural in Room 2 at Bonampak shows the ruler wearing a jaguar helmet and jaguar pelt when he takes a prisoner in battle (Schele and Miller 1986, fig.  V.6). Tikal Lintel 2, Temple III, represents a ruler armed with a trident stone object and encased in a jaguar costume with human hands and feet and the ruler’s face peeking out of the jaguar helmet (Harrison 1999, fig. 112). And, more than 500 years later, valiant Aztec warriors were awarded military attire representing jaguars and eagles, considered the most valiant animals and symbols of rulership (Berdan 1994, 154). This can only be a superficial look at the communalities in animal imagery throughout Precolumbian Mesoamerica. But two more examples will have to suffice. We cannot leave out the dog, beloved today as a companion but playing a more complex role in Mesoamerica. Although the more robust breeds were seen as companions, smaller breeds were fattened up as food, a widespread practice that may account for the abundance of ceramic dogs found in Preclassic burials in West Mexico. Were these intended to represent food for the deceased in the afterlife, or did they guide the deceased through the underworld? The dog in Classic Maya art is clearly represented as a tomb guardian, which suggests that dogs played a role as guides to the underworld (Stone and Zender 2011, 78–79, fig. 2). Sahagún (1950–1982, 3:44) noted that the Aztecs believed that the deceased needed the company of a dog, cremated along with the corpse to take the deceased person across the place of the nine rivers in the place of the dead. This recalls the link between the dog god Xolotl and the underworld, noted in Aztec myths, a role probably derived initially from the way dogs dig for bones. And then there are coyotes, said to be cunning and as “astute as a man,” their intelligence memorialized in an Aztec tale about a warrior who came upon a coyote with a boa (cincoatl) coiled around his neck and saved the desperate animal (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:6–7). Later the coyote thanked him by bringing two turkey cocks, showing traits that we generally only associate with kind human beings. These are just a couple of the intriguing accounts that link animal behavior and their symbolism, and many more are to be found in the chapters to follow. I N T RO D U C T I O N

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REFERENCES

Aguilera, María del Carmen. 1985. Flora y fauna mexicana: Mitología y tradiciones. Mexico City: Editorial Everest. Barba Ahuatzin, Beatriz, and Alicia Blanco Padilla (eds.). 2009. Iconografía mexicana IX and X: Flora y fauna. Mexico City: INAH, Colección Científica. Bassett, Molly H. 2019. “Bundling Natural History: Tlaquimilolli, Folk Biology, and Book 11.” In The Florentine Codex: An Encyclopedia of the Nahua World in SixteenthCentury Mexico, edited by Jeanette F. Peterson and Kevin Terraciano, 139–151. Austin: University of Texas Press. Bassie-Sweet, Karen. 2008. Maya Sacred Geography and the Creator Deities. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Benson, Elizabeth. 1997. Birds and Beasts of Ancient Latin America. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Baquedano, Elizabeth. 2022. “Ranas y sapos: simbolismo entre los mexicas.” In Los animales y el recinto sagrado de Tenochtitlan, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, 663–680. Mexico City: Colegio Nacional. Berdan, Frances. 1994. “Birds and Beasts in Nahua Thought.” In Chipping Away on Earth: Studies in Prehispanic and Colonial Mexico in Honor of Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble, edited by Eloise Quiñones Keber, 153–161. Lancaster, CA: Labyrinthos. Beutelspacher, Carlos R. 1989. Las mariposas entre los antiguos Mexicanos. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Blair, Robert, and Refugio Vermont-Salas. 1965. Spoken Yucatec Maya I. Chicago: University of Chicago Library. Boone, Elizabeth H. 2011. “This New World Now Revealed: Hernán Cortés and the Presentation of Mexico to Europe.” Word and Image 27 (1): 31–46. Brown, Linda A., and Kitty F. Emery. 2008. “Negotiations with the Animate Forest: Hunting Shrines in the Guatemalan Highlands.” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 15:300–337. Clottes, Jean. 2003. Chauvet Cave: The Art of Earliest Times. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Coggins, Clemency. 2015. “The North Celestial Pole in Ancient Mesoamerica.” In Cosmology, Calendars, and Horizon-based Astronomy in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Anne S. Dowd and Susan Milbrath, 101–138. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Fields, Virginia M., and Dorie Reents-Budet. 2005. Lords of Creation: The Origins of Sacred Maya Kingship. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and London: Scala Publishing. González Torres, Yolotl (ed.). 2001. Animales y plantas en la cosmovisión mesoamericana. Mexico City: Conaculta-INAH. 20

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Grove, David C. 1984. Chalcatzingo: Exavations on the Olmec Frontier. New York and London: Thames and Hudson. Guernsey, Julia. 2006. Ritual and Power in Stone: The Performance of Rulership in Mesoamerican Izapan Style Art. Austin: University of Texas Press. Harrison, Peter D. 1999. The Lords of Tikal: Rulers of an Ancient Maya City. New York and London: Thames and Hudson. Heyden, Doris. 1989. The Eagle, the Cactus, and the Rock: The Roots of MexicoTenochtitlan’s Foundation Myth and Symbol. BAR International Series 484. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Hoopes, John W., and David Mora-Marín. 2009. “Violent Acts of Curing: PreColumbian Metaphors of Birth and Sacrifice in the Diagnosis and Treatment of Disease ‘Writ Large.’ ” In Blood and Beauty: Organized Violence in the Art and Archaeology of Mesoamerica and Central America, edited by Heather Orr and Rex Koontz, 291–330. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology Press. Houston, Stephen D., and David Stuart. 1989. The Way Glyph: Evidence for “Coessences” among the Classic Maya. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 30. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Hunt, Eva. 1977. The Transformation of the Hummingbird: Cultural Roots of a Zinacantecan Mythical Poem. Ithaca, NY: Cornel University Press. Jones, Christopher. 1977. “Inauguration Dates of Three Late Classic Maya Rulers of Tikal, Guatemala.” American Antiquity 42 (1): 28–60. Jung, Carl G., M. L. von Franz, Joseph L. Henderson, Jolande Jacobi, and Aniela Jaffé. 1964. Man and His Symbols. New York: Dell Publishing. Looper, Matthew. 2009. To Be Like Gods: Dance in Ancient Maya Civilization. Austin: University of Texas Press. López Austin, Alfredo. 1990. Los mitos del tlacuache: Caminos de la mitología mesoamericana. Mexico City: Alianza Editorial Mexicana/Editorial Patria. López Austin, Alfredo. 1993. The Myths of the Opossum: Pathways of Mesoamerican Mythology, translated by Bernard R. Ortiz de Montellano and Thelma Ortiz de Montellano. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. López Luján, Leonardo. 1996. Las ofrendas del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: INAH. Milbrath, Susan. 1999. Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars. Austin: University of Texas Press. Milbrath, Susan. 1979. A Study of Olmec Sculptural Chronology. Studies in PreColumbian Art and Archaeology, no. 23. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Miller, Mary, and Simon Martin. 2004. Courtly Art of the Ancient Maya. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco. Mundy, Barbara E. 1998. “Mapping the Aztec Capital: The 1524 Nuremberg Map of Tenochtitlan, Its Sources and Meanings.” Imago Mundi 50:11–33. I N T RO D U C T I O N

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Olivier, Guilhem. 2015. Cacería, sacrificio y el poder en Mesoamérica: Tras las huellas de Mixcóatl, “serpiente de nube.” Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Mexico. Packer, Craig, and Jean Clottes, 2000. “When Lions Ruled France.” Natural History 109:52–57. Palmeri Capesciotti, Ilaria. 2001. “La fauna del Libro XI del ‘Codice Florentino’ de fray Bernardino de Sahagún: Dos sistemas taxonómicos frente a frente.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 32:189–221. Peterson, Jeanette F. 1983. Flora and Fauna Imagery in Precolumbian Cultures: Iconography and Function. BAR International Series 171. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Peterson, Jeanette F. 1990. Precolumbian Flora and Fauna: Continuity of Plant and Animal Themes in Mesoamerica Art. San Diego, CA: Mingei International Museum. Quiñones Keber, Eloise (ed.). 2000. Chipping Away on Earth: Studies in Prehispanic and Colonial Mexico in Honor of Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Lancaster, CA: Labyrinthos. Sahagún, Fray Bernardino de. 1950–1982. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Charles E. Dibble and Arthur J. O. Anderson. Santa Fe: School for American Research. Saunders, Nicholas J. 1989. People of the Jaguar: The Living Spirit in Ancient America. London: Souvenir Press. Schele, Linda, and Mary Miller. 1986. The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art. Fort Worth, TX: Kimbell Art Museum. Stone, Andrea. 1995. Images from the Underworld: Naj Tunich and the Tradition of Maya Cave Painting. Austin: University of Texas Press. Stone, Andrea, and Marc Zender. 2011. Reading Maya Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Maya Painting and Sculpture. New York and London: Thames and Hudson. Stuart, David. 2005. The Inscriptions from Temple XIX at Palenque. San Francisco: PreColumbian Art Research Institute. Taggart, James A. 1983. Nahuat Myth and Social Structure. Austin: University of Texas Press. Tate, Carolyn. 2012. Reconsidering Olmec Visual Culture: The Unborn, Women, and Creation. Austin: University of Texas Press. Vail, Gabrielle. 1997. “The Deer-trapping Almanacs in the Madrid Codex.” In Papers on the Madrid Codex, edited by Victoria R. Bricker and Gabrielle Vail, 73–110. Middle American Research Institute Publication 64. New Orleans: Tulane University. Vail, Gabrielle. 2013. Códice de Madrid. Guatemala City: Universidad Mesoamericana.

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M I LB R AT H A N D BAQ U EDA N O

2 Before I comment briefly on the chapters in this volume, I want to acknowledge what a great privilege it is for me to participate in a project honoring Cecelia Klein. I think we can all agree that Cecelia is the most innovative and interesting thinker in the field of Aztec studies as well as in Mesoamerican studies more broadly. Throughout her distinguished career she has looked deeply into topics that might have seemed obscure or unconventional at the time in order to reveal fundamental issues of Aztec ideology and practice. In so many of her essays she has confronted and challenged conventional positions and rhetorical strategies. And she has trained and mentored an amazing generation of Precolumbian and colonial scholars, who have gone on to challenge, upend, and contribute powerfully to our understanding of ancient and colonial Latin American art. One sees her insightful, detailed scholarship at work especially in a score of outstanding articles, which are usually long and always thorough and in which she has explored some of the most difficult and complex realms of Aztec thought and expression. Only a few can be referenced here, but every one is exhaustively researched and scrupulously documented. Many begin with the specific—the work of art or the ritual—and extend outward to the thinking and issues that underlie Aztec cultural practices: for example, her reevaluation of the great Coatlicue sculpture (2005, 2008), her reading of the god Tlaloc (1980, 1984, 1986, 1988), or her analysis of the Toxcatl festival (2008, 2009, 2014).

Reflections on the Scholarship of Cecelia Ford Klein and on Animal Symbolism in Mesoamerica

https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c002

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Elizabeth Hill Boone

Many others draw objects and expressions together in order to analyze ways of thinking and constructions of ideas: for example, her rich treatment of the ideology of auto-sacrifice (1987) and the weaver’s paradigm for Aztec thought (1982, 2015). Cecelia’s work has uncovered fundamental aspects of Aztec cosmological thinking (1990/1991, 1993) and has deeply analyzed Aztec sacrifice (auto-sacrifice, heart sacrifice, and the colonial view; 1989, 2009, 2016) from multiple perspectives. In such articles and book chapters the reader can see how the trail leads, sometimes circuitously, from one point to another as she carefully constructs her argument. These writings are the foundation on which so many other scholars have built. In my undergraduate and graduate courses on Aztec art, practically all the students turn to Cecelia’s magnificent articles for keys to many of their questions. Cecelia is best known, however, for her focus on gendered identities and for her interrogations of human and divine femininity. She led us, for example, to see the gendered paradox of femininity and warfare (1993, 1994, 1995), and the relationship between procreative goddesses and conquered and dispossessed female supernaturals (1988, 1990, 2000), ideas that were somewhat revolutionary at the time but are now generally accepted; she introduced gender ambiguity in Aztec ideology before others had even considered it (2001, 2014). The Dumbarton Oaks volume she edited (2001) on gender in Precolumbian America asserted social theory at the forefront of the discourse. She has been a pioneer in her sustained analysis of gender as a social construct well before this issue became mainstream. Cecelia is particularly respected, also, for the way she has challenged popular interpretations and thinking about methodological issues. Two of her first major scholarly productions—her dissertation (published 1976) and a 1976 Art Bulletin article (republished 1977, 2010)—contested the traditional reading of the central figure on the Aztec “Calendar Stone” and reset the discourse about that celebrated monument; the issue is still being debated. Her early review of the watershed catalog Blood of Kings (Schele and Miller 1986) in the Art Journal (1988) raised important issues about the evidentiary base for some of the publication’s most extraordinary claims and put her in opposition to the “Mayamania” then spreading across the scholarly and general public in the United States. Her revolutionary essays (written with some of her students) that criticize shamanism as an overarching interpretive model also applied a much-needed corrective break to the spreading epidemic of “shamanitis” that threatened to extinguish more contextually supported interpretations (2001, 2002). These theoretical and methodological projects have been brave and necessary interventions that established her as an important critic of facile thinking. 24

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More than anyone else, Cecelia has also been the one to reflect deeply on the nature of Precolumbian art history, its relation to archaeology, and the very future of art history in Precolumbian studies. She has argued the value of art history throughout her career in a series of essays (1982, 1989, 2002, 2017) and two editorial projects. The first was a special issue of the Journal of Art Historiography on theory, method, and the future of Precolumbian art history (2012). More recently she opened the new journal Latin American and Latinx Visual Culture (2019) with an edited “dialogue” (section) on the state and future of Precolumbian visual culture studies. Cecelia is the one who has always probed the assumptions and actions of those in her field. Those who have attended Cecelia’s talks and read her essays know also that she is the master of the great paper title. She has given us these: “Woven Heaven, Tangled Earth,” “To Bleed Forever,” “Snares and Entrails,” “Teocuitlatl, ‘Divine Excrement’: The Significance of ‘Holy Shit’ in Aztec Mexico,” “Shield Women,” “The Devil and the Skirt,” “Sex in the City,” “Shamanitis,” “Death in the Hands of Strangers,” and “Under Cover of Darkness.” She has that great sense of rhythm, cadence, and allusion that compels us to the work. Cecelia has taught principally at UCLA, where, during her thirty-fiveyear tenure (1976–2011), she trained a whole generation—more like several generations—of Latin Americanist art historians: Aztec scholars, Mayanists, Andeanists, colonialists, and those in between and further afield. They have carried her insistence on theoretical thinking and close looking as well as her methodological rigor, questioning of “canonical truths,” and diverse interests. The College Art Association recognized her extraordinary teaching and mentorship when it conferred on her the Distinguished Teaching of Art History award in 2000. We who are fortunate enough to have overlapped temporally with Cecelia and who have benefited from her ideas and proposals know how important she has been to the fields of Precolumbian and colonial art history. Cecelia is not known as a specialist in animal symbolism, the topic of this volume, but here she bravely ventures into a reevaluation of the composite figure on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza (chapter 3). In so doing and in her typical fashion, she proposes something remarkably new about the relationship between Central Mexico and the Maya.

ANIMAL SYMBOLISM

Animals occupy a distinct niche/realm in Mesoamerican thought. They are nonhuman actors who with humans and gods helped to shape the world, bring R EF LE C T I O N S O N T H E S C H O L A R S H I P O F C E C ELI A F O R D K LEI N

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it into being, and convey its features. This is because, like humans, animals are sentient agents, somewhat distinct from humankind but not altogether separate from them either. Humans also live and interact with animals in a way they do not with plants or stones. Certainly plants have agency, and stones can decide whether not they want to be moved around, but plants and stones are not major players in the drama of Postclassic Mesoamerica. When animals appear carved in stone or painted in the codices or on walls, they almost always signify more than themselves. In this respect animals may well extend across a richer semantic range than do human figures, as these papers reveal. What strikes me about the chapters that follow is how multifaceted and multivalent animals are. And how deeply the speakers excavated the sources to reveal such nuanced understandings. The jaguar is not just a jaguar, for example, but calls up a host of conventions depending on context and often at the same time. Scorpions sting, snakes slither, and poor quails are always being offered as blood sacrifices, but more often these and other creatures stand for cultural concepts and participate as agents in a wide range of realms. These include, for example, time, creation, the cosmos, the natural world, and human social life (e.g., warfare and rulership). Several authors conceptualize animals as temporal or spatial referents. Merideth Paxton argues that the possum in the Dresden New Year’s Pages is a co-essence that symbolizes the Uayeb itself (chapter 12). Gabrielle Vail and Allen Christenson, drawing on the Popol Vuh and Dresden and Madrid codices, situate the possum as a binary with the peccary, as symbols of night and day respectively and as agents of creation (chapter 13). A distinctive sculpted tableau of animals near the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza, analyzed by Cynthia Kristan-Graham, invokes rain and the night, among other things (chapter 5). Elena Mazzetto explains why the quail, with the starry night painted on its breast, is likewise a creature that reflects the night and moon (chapter 8). Similarly, as Jeanne Gillespie asserts, the scorpion, as the celestial scorpion, calls up the night sky (chapter 9). Elizabeth Baquedano’s investigation of frogs and toads highlights their association with the rainy season, Tlaloc, the earth, and their embodiment of the process of metamorphosis (chapter 6). It is clear, then, that animals can symbolize multiple aspects of temporality. Invoking both time and space, Cecelia Klein tackles the enigmatic, composite, frontal creature on the frieze of the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza and shows how the beast with the human face in its mouth conflates Mexican and Maya creator gods and thereby reconciles Maya and Mexican conceptions of the cosmos (chapter 3). Focusing on the Codex Borgia, Susan Milbrath 26

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points out that most of the animals that serve as day signs are also represented in imagery of the cardinal directions in the directional almanacs of Borgia 49b–53b (chapter 11). Some of the chapters also bring out the social dimensions of animal imagery: how various stories of creation feature different animals who serve as exemplars of good or bad behavior or help to explain aspects of the world. In this vein Vail and Christenson situate possums and peccaries as agents of creation (chapter 13), and Jeanne Gillespie calls up the story of the creation of the scorpion as a morality tale with the larger Mesoamerican cosmogony (chapter 9). Thanks to Xochiquetzal, we can all survive a scorpion bite. Several chapters explain how a number of animals symbolize different aspects of rulership. Emily Umberger and Elizabeth Aguilera position serpents in Aztec state art as royal symbols, conveying movement and nonmovement (movement and restraint) and thereby suggesting the ideal balance and command expected of rulers (chapter 7). Umberger and Aguilera also point out the serpent mat of leadership from which Coyolxauhqui fell and the double-headed coral snakes that symbolize her death. Usually, however, it is the great predators that signify rulership, warfare, and/ or human sacrifice. The jaguars in the sculptural tableau at the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza carry general associations with rulership, as Cynthia KristanGraham notes (chapter 5). At Tula, Keith Jordan argues more particularly that the frieze of jaguars, pumas, wolves, coyotes, and eagles along Pyramid B unites a cluster of associations that give ideological support to the rulers carved on the pillars above (chapter 4). Here the carnivores stand for warrior sodalities as they look back to the Teotihuacan past and marshal its great legacy to support rulership at Tula. Another chapter, authored by Leonardo López Luján, Alejandra Aguirre Molina, and Israel Elizalde Mendez, reveals offerings at the Templo Mayor that are populated with animals functioning as ideological symbols (chapter 10). In particular, López Luján’s team is showing how a cluster of apex predators—the twenty-seven carnivorous mammals and birds of prey—were selected, sacrificed, adorned with specific meaningful insignia, and oriented to the setting sun as part of the semantic complex of war and human sacrifice. They signify the souls of the dead warriors and animate the temple with their service and sacrifice. So what do these chapters teach us? That animals are more than themselves. Their vitality and animacy, and their nonhuman (or other-than-human) nature, give them special powers and an extensive semantic range. They are major players in stories of creation, telling signifiers of natural and universal elements, and potent representatives of political and social concerns. R EF LE C T I O N S O N T H E S C H O L A R S H I P O F C E C ELI A F O R D K LEI N

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Publications of Cecelia Ford Klein, 1976–2021 Books, Edited Volumes, and Edited Journal Issues 1976. The Face of the Earth: Frontality in Two-dimensional Mesoamerican Art. Outstanding Dissertations in the Fine Arts. New York: Garland. 1990. (guest editor) “Depictions of the Dispossessed.” Special theme issue of Art Journal 49 (2). 2001. (editor) Gender in Pre-Columbian America: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks 12 and 13 October 1996. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks.

Exhibition Catalogs 1968. “Nine Short Articles on Maori and Hawaiian Art.” In Early Chinese Art and the Pacific Basin: A Photographic Exhibition, edited by Douglas Fraser. New York: Intercultural Arts Press. 1976. Art of Pre-Columbian America. Rochester, MI: Meadow Brook Art Gallery, Oakland University. 1980. (editor) Mother, Worker, Ruler, Witch: Cross-Cultural Images of Women. Museum of Cultural History Pamphlet Series 1, no. 9. Los Angeles: University of California at Los Angeles.

Articles 1975. “Postclassic Mexican Death Imagery as a Sign of Cyclic Completion.” In Death and the Afterlife in Pre-Columbian America, edited by Elizabeth P. Benson, 69–85. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 1976. “The Identity of the Central Deity on the Aztec Calendar Stone.” The Art Bulletin 8:1–12. Reprinted in Pre-Columbian Art History: Selected Readings, edited by Alana Cordy-Collins and Jean Stern, 167–189. Palo Alto, CA: Peek Publications, 1977. Reprinted in The Aztec Calendar Stone, edited by Khristaan D.Villela and Mary Ellen Miller, 199–217. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2010. 1980. “The Symbolism of Circular Structures.” Archaeoastronomy: Bulletin of the Center for Archaeoastronomy 3 (2): 11–12. 1980. “Who Was Tlaloc?” Journal of Latin American Lore 6 (2): 155–204. 1982. “Arte precolombino y ciencias sociales.” Plural: Revista Cultural de Excelsior 124:40–48. 1982. “The Relation of Mesoamerican Art History to Archaeology in the U.S.” In Pre-Columbian Art History: Selected Readings, edited by Alana Cordy-Collins, 1–6. Palo Alto, CA: Peek Publications. 1982. “Woven Heaven, Tangled Earth: A Weaver’s Paradigm of the Mesoamerican Cosmos.” In Ethnoastronomy and Archaeoastronomy in the American Tropics, edited by Anthony F. Aveni and Gary Urton, 1–35. Annals of the New York Academy of 28

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Sciences 385. New York: New York Academy of Sciences. Translated and reprinted in Cielos e inframundos: Una revision de las cosmologías mesoamericanas, edited by Ana Guadalupe Díaz, 219–256. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México: Fideicomiso Felipe y Monserrat Alfau de Teixidor, 2015. 1984. “Dioses de la lluvia o sacerdotes ofrendadores del fuego? Un estudio sociopolitico de algunas representaciones mexicas del dios Tlaloc.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 17:33–50. 1986. “Masking Empire: The Material Effects of Masks in Aztec Mexico.” Art History 9 (2): 135–167. 1987. “The Ideology of Autosacrifice at the Templo Mayor.” In The Aztec Templo Mayor, edited by Elizabeth H. Boone, 293–370. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 1988. “Rethinking Cihuacoatl: Aztec Political Imagery of the Conquered Woman.” In Smoke and Mist: Mesoamerican Studies in Memory of Thelma D. Sullivan, edited by J. Kathryn Josserand and Karen Dakin, 1:237–277. BAR International Series 402. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. 1988. “Tlaloc ‘Masks’ as Insignia of Office in the Mexica-Aztec Hierarchy.” In Behind the Mask in Mexico, edited by Janet Brody Esser, 6–27. Santa Fe: Museum of International Folk Art/Museum of New Mexico Press. 1989. “To Bleed Forever: The Function of Stone-carved Images of Aztec Royal Blood-letting Rites.” In World Art: Themes of Unity in Diversity, Acts of the XXVIth International Congress of the History of Art (CIHA), edited by Irving Lavin, 3:575–584. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. 1989. “Gaining Respect: Native American Art Studies and the Humanities.” Native American Art Studies Association Newsletter 6 (2): 3–6. 1990. “Editor’s Statement: Depictions of the Dispossessed.” Art Journal 49 (2): 106–109. 1990/1991. “Snares and Entrails: Mesoamerican Symbols of Sin and Punishment.” Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics 19/20:81–103. 1993. (with Emily Umberger) “Aztec Art and Economic Expansion.” In Latin American Horizons, edited by Don Stephen Rice, 295–336. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 1993. “The Shield Women: Resolution of an Aztec Gender Paradox.” In Current Topics in Aztec Studies: A Symposium Honoring H. B. Nicholson, edited by Alana Cordy-Collins and Douglas Sharon, 39–64. San Diego Museum Papers 30. San Diego, CA: San Diego Museum of Man. 1993. “Teocuitlatl, ‘Divine Excrement’: The Significance of ‘Holy Shit’ in Aztec Mexico.” Art Journal 52 (3): 20–27. Special issue “Scatological Art,” guest editor, Gabriel Weisberg.

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1994. Comment on Sharisse D. McCafferty and Geoffrey G. McCafferty’s “Engendering Tomb 7 at Monte Albán: Respinning an Old Yarn.” Current Anthropology 35 (2): 157–158. 1994. “Fighting with Femininity: Gender and War in Aztec Mexico.” In Gender Rhetorics: Postures of Dominance and Submission in Human History, edited by Richard C. Trexler, 107–146. Also published in Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 24:219–253. 1994. “Objects Are Nice, But . . .” Art Bulletin 76 (3): 401–404. 1995. “Wild Woman in Colonial Mexico: An Encounter of European and Aztec Concepts of the Other.” In Reframing the Renaissance: Studies in the Migration of Visual Culture, edited by Claire Farago, 244–263. London: Yale University Press. 1997. “Gender: Mesoamerican.” In Encyclopedia of Mexico, edited by Michael S. Werner, 1:560–568. Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn. 1997. “Visual Arts: Mesoamerica.” In Encyclopedia of Mexico, edited by Michael S. Werner, 2:1539–1552. Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn. 1997. “Women’s Status and Occupation: Mesoamerica.” In Encyclopedia of Mexico, edited by Michael S. Werner, 21:1609–1615. Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn. 1998. “A Moche Portrait Jar in the Allen Memorial Art Museum.” In Masterworks for Learning: A College Collection Catalogue, edited by Jenny Squires Wilker. Oberlin, OH: Allen Memorial Art Museum, Oberlin College. Multimedia CD. 2000. “The Devil and the Skirt: An Iconographic Inquiry into the Prehispanic Nature of the Tzitzimime.” Ancient Mesoamerica 11 (1): 1–26. Also published in Estudios de Cultural Nahuatl 31:17–62. 2001. “Autosacrifice and Bloodletting.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 1:64–66. New York: Oxford University Press. 2001. “Conclusions.” In Gender in Pre-Hispanic America: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks 12 and 13 October 1996, edited by Cecelia F. Klein, 363–385. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 2001. “Gender Roles: Prehispanic.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 1:427–430. New York: Oxford University Press. 2001. “Gender Studies.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 1:435–438. New York: Oxford University Press. 2001. “Impersonation of Deities.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 2:33–37. New York: Oxford University Press. 2001. “Introduction.” In Gender in Pre-Hispanic America: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks 12 and 13 October 1996, edited by Cecelia F. Klein, 1–14. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 2001. “Masks.” In Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 2:175–177. New York: Oxford University Press.

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2001. “None of the Above: Gender Ambiguity in Nahua Ideology.” In Gender in PreHispanic America: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks 12 and 13 October 1996, edited by Cecelia F. Klein, 183–253. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. 2001. (with Eulogio Guzman, Elisa C. Mandell, Maya Stanfield-Mazzi, and Josephine Volpe) “Shamanitis: A Pre-Columbian Art Historical Disease.” In The Concept of Shamanism: Uses and Abuses, edited by Henri-Paul Francfort and Roberte N. Hamayon in collaboration with Paul G. Bahn, 207–241. Bibliotheca Shamanistica 10. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Reprinted in Chamanismes et arts préhistoriques: Vision critique, edited by Michel Lorblanchet, Jean-Loïc de Quellac, Paul G. Bahn, Henri-Paul Francfort, Brigitte Delluc, and Gilles Delluc, 291–316. Paris: Éditions Errance, 2001. 2002. “La iconografía y el arte mesoamericano.” Arqueología Mexicana 10 (55): 28–35. 2002. “Not Like Us and All the Same: Pre-Columbian Art History and the Construction of the Nonwest.” Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics 42:131–138. 2002. (with Maya Stanfield-Mazzi) “Reply to David Lewis-Williams.” Current Anthropology 45 (3): 404–406. 2002. (with Eulogio Guzman, Elisa C. Mandell, and Maya Stanfield-Mazzi) “The Role of Shamanism in Mesoamerican Art: A Reassessment.” Current Anthropology 43 (3): 383–401. Followed by comments by eleven scholars, a reply by the authors, and a bibliography, 401–419. 2002. “Urn” (cat. no. 165). In Aztecs, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, 439–440. London: Royal Academy of Arts. 2005. “CAA Teaching Award Winners Speak: Cecelia F. Klein, University of California, Los Angeles.” CAA News 30 (5): 9, 11. 2005. “Una nueva interpretación de la escultura de Coatlicue.” In Las mujeres en Mesoamérica prehispánica, edited by María J. Rodríguez-Shadow, 189–201. Proceedings of the III Mesa de Estudios de Género, Primera Reunion Internacional, Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Toluca: Universidad Autónoma del Estado de México. 2005. (with Eulogio Guzman and Maya Stanfield-Mazzi) “Reply to Pieter Jolly.” Current Anthropology 46 (1): 127–128. 2006. “Around the Fourth World in Seventy Days.” In Compression vs. Expression: Containing and Explaining the World’s Art, edited by John Onians, 21–38. Clark Studies in the Visual Arts. Williamstown, MA: Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute. 2008. “The Aztec Sacrifice of Tezcatlipoca and Its Implications for Christ Crucified.” In Power, Gender, and Ritual in Europe and the Americas: Essays in Memory of Richard C. Trexler, edited by Peter Arnade and Michael Rocke, 273–297. Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, University of Toronto. Reprinted,

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with slight modifications, as “Gender Ambiguity and the Toxcatl Sacrifice.” In Tezcatlipoca: Trickster and Supreme Deity, edited by Elizabeth Baquedano, 135–161. Boulder: University Press of Colorado, 2014. 2008. “Comment on Byron Ellsworth Hamann’s ‘Chronological Pollution: Potsherds, Mosques, and Broken Gods before and after the Conquest of Mexico.’ ” Current Anthropology 49 (5): 827. 2008. “A New Interpretation of the Aztec Statue Known as Coatlicue, ‘Snakes-HerSkirt.’ ” Ethnohistory 55 (2): 229–250. 2008. “ ‘Recovering’ Gender.” Backdirt: Annual Review of the Cotsen Institute of Archaeology at UCLA 2008:35. 2009. “Human Sacrifice as Symbolic Capital: Images of the Violated Aztec Body for a Changing World, 1500–1900 (and Beyond).” In Crossing Cultures: Conflict, Migration and Convergence: Proceedings of the 32nd International Congress in the History of Art, edited by Jaynie Anderson, 247–252. Melbourne: Miegunyah Press. 2009. “In the Belly of the Beast, on José Pardo’s Exhibition Design at LACMA.” Artforum 7 (5): 85–86, 89–90. 2009. (with Naoli Victoria Lona) “Sex in the City: The Relationship of Aztec Ceramic Figurines to Aztec Figurines Made of Copal.” In Mesoamerican Figurines: Small-Scale Indices of Large-Scale Social Phenomena, edited by Christina T. Halperin, Katherine A. Faust, Rhonda Taube, and Aurore Giguet, 327–377. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. 2010. “How Did Mesoamericans Envision the Cosmos?” Mexicolore. Aug. 1, 2010. https://www.mexicolore.co.uk/aztecs/home/how-mesoamericans-envisioned -cosmos. 2011. “Before the Conquest: Contested Visions in Aztec and Inca Art.” In Contested Visions in the Spanish Colonial World, edited by Ilona Katzew, 29–53. Los Angeles: Los Angeles County Museum of Art. 2012. “Aztec Masks.” Mexicolore. September 30, 2012. https://www.mexicolore.co.uk /aztecs/home/aztec-masks. 2012. (editor) “Theory, Method, and the Future of Pre-Columbian Art History” (session of the 100th Annual Conference of the College Art Association, Los Angeles, February 24, 2010). Journal of Art Historiography, no. 7. https://arthistoriography .files.wordpress.com/2012/12/klein.pdf. 2013. “Regarding Art and Art History.” Art Bulletin 95 (2): 187–189. 2014. “Art of the Aztec Empire.” In Oxford Bibliographies Online. https://www .oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780199920105/obo-9780199920105 -0013.xml?rskey=CPI4Ej&result=1&q=Klein+cecelia#firstMatch. 2014. “Gender Ambiguity and the Toxcatl Sacrifice.” In Tezcatlipoca: Trickster and Supreme Deity, edited by Elizabeth Baquedano, 135–161. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. 32

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2015. “Androgyny.” In The International Encyclopedia of Human Sexuality, edited by Patricia Whelehan and Anne Bolin, 1:85. Malden, MA: Wiley/Blackwell. 2016. “Death in the Hands of Strangers: Aztec Human Sacrifice in the Western Imagination.” In Altera Roma: Art and Empire from the Aztecs to New Spain, edited by John M. D. Pohl and Claire Lyons, 287–311. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California at Los Angeles. 2017. “Esther and Columbia in 1966: The Early Years of Pre-Columbian Art History in U.S. Academe.” In Visual Culture of the Ancient Americas: Contemporary Perspectives, edited by Andrew Feingold and Ellen Hoobler, 3–15. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. 2018. “Foreword: Memoir in a Sense of Place.” In Exile Space: Encountering Ancient and Modern America in Memoir with Essay and Fiction, by Esther Pasztory, xi–xiii. Rockland, ME: Polar Bear & Company. 2019. “Dialogues: The State and Future of Pre-Columbian Visual Culture Studies.” Latin American and Latinx Visual Culture 1 (1): 87–93. 2021. “From Clay to Stone! Demonization of the Aztec Goddess Cihuacoatl.” In Sorcery in Mesoamerica, edited by Jeremy Coltman and John M. Pohl, 330–380. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. 2021. “Under Cover of Darkness: Blindfolds and the Eternal Return in Late Postclassic Mexico.” In Night and Darkness in Ancient Mexico and Central Mexico, edited by Nancy Gonlin and David M. Reed, 99–174. Louisville: University Press of Colorado. 2021. “Why Did They [the Aztecs] Like to Paint [Their Bodies] So Much?” Mexicolore. June 2021. https://www.mexicolore.co.uk/aztecs/ask-experts/why-did-they -like-to-paint-their-bodies-so-much.

Translations 1976. English summary in Codex Borgia: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Cod. Borg. Messicano I), edited by Karl Anton Nowotny, 43–45. Graz, Austria: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt.

Reviews 1978. “Archaeology of Ancient Peru and the Work of Max Uhle, by Dorothy Menzel, R. H. Lowie Museum of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley, 1977.” African Arts 11 (3): 91–94. 1978. “Middle Classic Mesoamerica: A.D. 400–700, edited by Esther Pasztory, Columbia University Press, New York, 1978.” Bibliographic Leaflets on Archaeology, no. 16 (Mesoamerica). Los Angeles: Research Collaboration Group, Institute of Archaeology, UCLA.

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1979. “Asiatic Influences in Pre-Columbian American Art, by Paul Shao, Iowa State University Press, 1976.” Bibliographic Leaflets on Archaeology, no. 21 (Mesoamerica). Los Angeles: Research Collaboration Group, Institute of Archaeology, UCLA. 1980. “Middle Classic Mesoamerica: A.D. 400–700, edited by Esther Pasztory, Columbia University Press, 1978.” Art Bulletin 62 (4): 674–677. 1980. “1980 SAH Annual Meeting Session on Indigenous American Architecture: The Symbolism of Circular Structures.” Archaeoastronomy 3 (2): 11–12. 1981. “Eskimo Art: Tradition and Innovation in North Alaska, by Dorothy Jean Ray, University of Washington Press, 1977, and Pitseolak: Pictures Out of My Life, edited by Dorothy Eber, University of Washington Press, 1979.” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 5 (1): 93–98. 1982. “Faces of Fiesta: Mexican Masks in Context, by Janet Brody Esser, San Diego State University Syllabus Service, 1981.” African Arts 15 (4): 89–90. 1988. “Mayamania: ‘The Blood of Kings’ in Retrospect.” Review of Linda Schele and Mary Ellen Miller’s The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art (Fort Worth, TX: Kimbell Art Museum, 1986). Art Journal 47 (1): 42–46. 1990. “Feathered Serpents and Flowering Trees: Reconstructing the Murals of Teotihuacan, edited by Kathleen Berrin, with essays by Clara Millon, Rene Millon, Esther Pasztory, and Thomas K. Seligman, Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, 1988.” African Arts 23 (3): 93–96. 1996. “Fray Diego Durán’s History of the Indies of New Spain, trans., annotated, and with an introduction by Doris Heyden, University of Oklahoma Press, Norman, 1994.” Ethnohistory 43 (4): 758–761. 1996. “Roberta H. Markman and Peter T. Markman, Masks of the Spirit: Image and Metaphor in Mesoamerica, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1989.” Nahua Newsletter 22: 9–16. 2005. “Identidad femenina, etnicidad y trabajo en Nuevo México.” Review of María J. Rodríguez Shadow’s Identidad femenina, etnicidad y trabajo en Nuevo México (Mexico City: Universidad Autónoma del Estado de México, 2003). Diario de Campo 78 ( July): 90–92. 2015. “Eduardo Matos Moctezuma and Leonardo López Luján, Escultura monumental mexica, 2nd rev. ed., Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2012.” CAA Reviews. July 9. http://www.caareviews.org/reviews/2433. 2017. “Dressing the Part: Power, Dress, Gender, and Representation in the Pre-Columbian Americas, Sarahh E. M. Scher and Billie J. A. Follensbee, editors, 2017, University Press of Florida, Gainesville.” Latin American Antiquity 28 (4): 624–625.

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3 One of the most well-known Maya structures to survive the ravages of time and conquest is the small, square-plan platform known today as the Venus Platform, which stands in the middle of the Great Platform at Chichen Itza in Yucatan (figure 3.1).1 Currently thought to have been built in the late Epiclassic (AD 800–950) or early Postclassic (AD 950–1150) period, the Venus Platform (2D4) owes its fame to its unique and perplexingly enigmatic carved decorations.2 Beneath projecting cornices framed by a molding, sets of three, side-by-side stone reliefs once flanked the short staircase on each side. Some of the side panels are now missing, but those that survived are so similar in composition and detail that we may assume the missing panels were essentially identical to them. It is these eight sets of carved panels that have captured worldwide attention. Although carved by different hands and with varying degrees of skill, the large, rectangular panels in the center of each set have proven particularly enigmatic. Because they are so similar, I will, for the most part, refer to them in the singular. Each panel depicts, head on and in a prone position, a lavishly plumed zoomorph with a frontal human face peering out from its open jaws (figure 3.2).3 The beast sports a curly beard and an extremely wide, long, bifurcated tongue with ends that curl outward and upward. Patches of crosshatching mark the zoomorph’s face. On top of the zoomorph’s head are three panaches of long, flowing https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c003

How to Construct a Dragon for a Changing World The Zoomorph on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza

Cecelia F. Klein

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Figure 3.1. Venus Platform. Photograph by Gregory Papazian.

Figure 3.2. Center panel, Venus Platform. Photograph by Gregory Papazian.

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feathers, with the two at the sides held in feather-rimmed containers marked by the Maya crossed-bands sign (k’at). As has long been recognized, the figure relates to the genre that scholars commonly call the Man-Serpent-Jaguar or some variant thereof, depending on which members of the phylum Chordata they think are represented. In order to avoid assuming, a priori, not only which animal species the zoomorph represents but also its disposition, I prefer to follow Cynthia Kristan-Graham (1989, 69) in referring to it as the Composite Creature. I do, however, stand by my use of the word “dragon” in the title of this study because, as children well know, some dragons are friendly. At Chichen Itza the Composite Creature appears hundreds of times.4 Only a few examples closely resemble the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform, however. A second Venus Platform (3C3), which is located in the late-tenthcentury Osario Group, is essentially identical to the Venus Platform on the Great Platform, but its decorations are more crudely carved, and, as we will see, it lacks a key attribute seen on the larger Venus Platform (Schmidt 2005, 2011).5 The same attribute plus another are also missing in the vast majority of the many other Composite Creatures seen at Chichen Itza, which are considerably smaller and much more crudely carved (figure 3.3). Substantially larger, three-dimensional en face zoomorphs with a human head in their mouth appear on the sides of both the Osario pyramid (3C1) facing the platform and the outer sanctuary walls of the Temple of the Warriors (2D8) on the east side of the Great Plaza (figure 3.8), and similar forms once adorned the entablature of the Northwest Colonnade (2D8) as well (Marquina 1951, photos 445–446; E. Morris et al. 1931, 1, 35–32, 62–64, figs. 9–12, 14, 17–18, 20, 42, 62–64; Schmidt 2005).6 Claudia Brittenham (2019, 72) suggests that the larger zoomorphs represent what she calls the Rainbow Serpent, which she sees as a mythical precursor of the Aztec xiuhcoatl (Fire Serpent), to be discussed more fully further on. Regardless of the larger zoomorphs’ identity, they lack, as we will see, an important feature of the human heads on the Venus Platform. The greater artistic excellence of the Composite Creature on the larger Venus Platform, together with its unique attributes, strongly suggest that it had a special importance and meaning. What was that meaning? The answer requires a careful reexamination of the zoomorph and the human face in its maw. Although most scholars assume that both are essentially Mexican iconographic constructs, I will argue that they actually represent an amalgam of Mexican and Maya beliefs, themes, and pictorial conventions. The Maya carvers of the Venus Platform reliefs, I contend, conjoined in a single figure selected body parts of the material manifestations of multiple personas of two of Mesoamerica’s most important deities, one originally Mexican and H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.3. Composite Creature on east side of pier no. 4, South Temple, Great Ball Court, Chichen Itza. From Kubler (1962, plate 100a). Courtesy Carnegie Science Publications.

the other Maya. Both of these deities were the source of the earth’s vegetation. The Mayanist Simon Martin (2015, 210) describes iconographic fusions of this kind as examples of “theosynthesis,” a visual process in which a deity converges, or is conflated, with “some other deity, creature, object, or material.”7 Alfredo López Austin (1993, 146) previously pointed out as well that throughout Mesoamerica “gods merged or divided themselves, and in each union, or in each one of the divided parts, they acquire a new personality.” This, I propose, is what we see on the Venus Platform. Although the Venus Platform was built and decorated by Maya artisans using local technology (Volta et al. 2018, 16), it is widely thought to reflect Mexican forms and stylistic conventions. For example, the Venus Platform’s architectural profile, which consists of vertical panels (tableros) rising above a “skirt,” or batter (talud), appears to have been inspired, however indirectly, by the so-called talud-tablero architectural profile popularized by the late Preclassic (250 BC–AD 250) to early Classic (AD 250–600) central Mexican city known as Teotihuacan (Place of the Gods) to the late Postclassic (AD 1150–1520) Nahuatl-speaking Aztecs. As we will see, although Teotihuacan 38

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was in serious decline by the middle of the sixth century, the carvers of the reliefs on the Venus Platform also drew heavily, if indirectly, on artworks made there centuries earlier. How these forms came to pass down through the centuries is a matter of ongoing debate. Architecture and ceramics in the Mundo Perdido complex at Tikal show that the southern lowlands Maya had become well aware of Teotihuacan by the end of the third century (Laporte and Fialko 1995). There is also good reason to think that people from Teotihuacan entered the southern Maya lowlands in the early fourth century and possibly succeeded in coopting Tikal’s rulership (Stuart 2000; cf. Moholy-Nagy 2021). The lowland Maya dynastic founder of Copan, K’inich Yax K’uk Mo’ (Great Sun First/ Bluegreen Quetzal Macaw), who reigned from AD 426 to around 437, is thought, in turn, to have traveled to Teotihuacan for his investiture (W. Fash et al. 2009; Stuart 2000, 2004). K’inich Yax K’uk Mo’ returned home, but evidence is accumulating that other Maya who went to Teotihuacan remained and died there (N. Sugiyama et al. 2016; N. Sugiyama et al. 2020; S. Sugiyama and N. Sugiyama 2020). There is also mounting evidence of later economic and cultural exchanges between central Mexicans and the Maya (Cobos 2006, 174, 176; 2016; Guenter 2019; Kowalski and Kristan-Graham 2011; Lacadena 2010). The numerous similar Composite Creatures at the central Mexican site of Tula, most of which date to the site’s Tollan phase (AD 900–1150) and were therefore roughly contemporary with Chichen Itza’s Venus Platform, testify to these interchanges (Cobean et al. 2012, 43, table III.1; Kowalski and Kristan-Graham 2011; Marquina 1951, fig. 445).8 Although scholars in recent decades have been hesitant to postulate direct contacts between Chichen Itza and Tula, recent isotopic analyses of the teeth in some of the human skulls dredged from the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza have shown that some of the sacrificed individuals had been born in central Mexico, quite possibly at Cholula or Tula (Price et al. 2019).

PREVIOUS INTERPRETATIONS

To date, most scholarly opinions regarding the identity of the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform fall into one of two competing explanations. The more recent interpretation, offered by Karl Taube (1992a, 2000, 2020, 164–166), posits that the zoomorph represents the War Serpent, which first appeared at Teotihuacan around AD 200 and quickly spread into the southern Maya lowlands in the early fourth century.9 The War Serpent, Taube (2000, H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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281–93) contends, was a supernatural snake (Serpentes; kan) with occasional feline (Felidae) and/or butterfly (Lepidoptera; pepem) attributes of special importance to warriors and warrior kings.10 Some of these men, as well as some women, are depicted in Classic-period (AD 250–950) Mexican and Maya imagery wearing an often “mosaic-plated” helmet in the form of the War Serpent’s head.11 Over time, as noted above, the War Serpent evolved into the late Postclassic (AD 1150–1521) Aztec Xiuhcoatl, whose red segmented body, often with legs, is associated with the caterpillar by Taube (2000, 285, fig. 10.12).12 For Taube (1992a) the human face inside the Venus Platform zoomorph’s mouth is probably an ancestral, possibly divinized warrior.13 His identifications of the zoomorph in the Composite Creature as the War Serpent and the human face as an ancestral warrior have been accepted by a number of scholars (e.g., Freidel et al. 1993, 308–310). Taube’s interpretation of the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform counters Eduard Seler’s earlier identification of its carvings. Seler (1960–1961 [1902–1923], 1:691–694) posited that the zoomorph in the Composite Creature is the supernatural feathered snake known to the Aztecs as Quetzalcoatl and to the Maya as K’uk’ulkan once the cult had arrived in Yucatan in the ninth century. Both names, Quetzalcoatl and K’uk’ulkan, translate as “Quetzal Serpent,” with quetzal referring to the highly prized, largely green-feathered tropical bird we know as the resplendent quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno). From the end of the Classic period on, the Feathered Serpent typically had rattlesnake rattles on its tail (Taube 1994, 222, fig. 12).14 Quetzalcoatl is also identified in early colonial sources as a creator god, the first priest, a herald of the rising sun, and as the wind god Ehecatl, with whom he became fused as a bringer of rain (Nicholson 2001). In Aztec art Ehecatl usually assumes a human form but wears a buccal mask in the form of what may be a duck’s beak (Anatidae). Several Aztec myths recorded in the early colonial period, however, tell of a legendary priest from Tula named (or titled) Topiltzin (Our Dear Lord), who was also sometimes referred to as Quetzalcoatl or Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl. These myths tell how Topiltzin’s heart rose into the sky as the morning star when he died.15 Thus, Quetzalcoatl was identified with the planet Venus as well. Because Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl, like Ehecatl, was envisioned as having a human or essentially human form, Seler (1960–1961, 1:691–694) believed that the human face in the Composite Creature’s mouth personified Venus at the moment of heliacal reappearance in the east as the morning star at the end of its 584-day cycle through the firmament. At this time the planet 40

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emerges from eight days of invisibility in inferior conjunction, a period during which, Mesoamericans believed, it passes, in a moribund state, through the underworld.16 In Seler’s scenario the plumed zoomorph and human head on the Venus Platform therefore represent two different manifestations of Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan, one reptilian and one human, an identification bolstered by the undulating feathered serpents on the platform’s cornices and the stone serpent heads discovered buried inside the platform. Many of the excavated serpent heads are feathered and originally bore beaded tubes planted in their snout, a trait common on images of the Feathered Serpent (Desmond 2008, 157; Desmond and Messenger 1988, 91; Le Plongeon 1884; Seler 1960–1961, 5:376–377, plates XLII.2, XLIII.1). Seler’s understanding of the Venus Platform has been widely accepted by a number of scholars, beginning with Herbert Spinden (1975 [1913], 211, 221, fig. 251g).17 More recently, William Ringle (2004, 185, figs. 15d, 15e, 186, 197) concluded that the reliefs on the Venus Platform show “an overwhelming emphasis on Quetzalcoatl” (see also Ringle et al. 1998, 157). Mercedes de la Garza (2001, 147), in contrast, identifies the zoomorph as a manifestation of the Maya “sky-serpent” in its “nocturnal aspect,” which she compares to the supernatural Chorti water snake, Chicchan. The only other major scholars to veer significantly from Taube’s and Seler’s interpretations are Susan Milbrath (1999, 181) and Erik Velásquez García (2002, 443), who suggest that the Venus Platform zoomorph is related to the Maya “Cosmic Monster.” As will become clear below, their reading of the creature comes closest to my own, although they do not support it with extensive iconographic evidence. Both Seler’s and Taube’s interpretations would theoretically work with the motifs and symbols flanking the Composite Creatures on the Venus Platform (figure 3.4). To one side of each creature is a pair of interlaced bands referred to today as the “mat symbol.” For the Maya, the mat symbol could connote, among other things, the first Maya month, Pop or Poop, the phonetic value of which was jal and was originally k’anjalaab, or k’anjalau, according to Andrea Stone and Marc Zender (2011, 81). The hieroglyph for Pop includes a mat symbol, and the root jal was used in references to all kinds of woven, plaited, and twisted materials (Stone and Zender 2011, 43, 81). Because Mesoamerican thrones were often constructed of braided or plaited rushes, the mat symbol also alluded to the enthronement of a new ruler (Taube 2003, 293, fig. 11.12). Accordingly, Ringle (2004, 197) proposes that the Venus Platform, along with other structures on the Great Platform, was used for royal investitures. On the other side of the Composite Creature is half of the Maya lobed symbol for Venus, which is inset with half of a star symbol.18 The half-Venus H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.4. Center and flanking panels, Venus Platform. Copyright, Akademische Drucku. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA, after Seler (1960–1961 [1902–1923], 5:figs. 241–243).

symbol on the Venus Platform is partially overlapped by a vertical bar loosely wrapped with a cord, which is sometimes identified as a fire drill, although there is no evidence that Mesoamericans used a cord to drill fire (Coggins 1987, 459; Margaret Arvey, personal communication 2016). Next to the half-Venus/ star symbol and the bar is a large, vertical bundle of sticks, rushes, or reeds that Seler identified with the Aztec xiuhmolpilli, a bundle of exactly 52 such items that represented a complete Aztec 52-year cycle equal in importance to our “century.” At the end of every 52-year cycle, the Aztecs ceremonially drilled New Fire and, a little later, burned the xiuhmolpilli. This is relevant because according to the sixteenth-century Spanish friar Diego de Landa (in Tozzer 1975, 153, 158), the Maya of Yucatan, at the time of the Spanish conquest, were drilling New Fire during their first month, Pop/K’anjalaab.19 Ringle (2004, 197; cf. Coggins 1987, 1989) points out, nonetheless, that there is no solid hieroglyphic, archaeological, or iconographic evidence that the Maya were celebrating the end of the 52-year cycle. Instead, hieroglyphic references to fire-drilling ceremonies at Chichen Itza tend to focus on dedicatory events (Eberl 2007, 22, 26–27; see also Grube 1994, 221; García Campillo 2000; Plank 2004). Elsewhere in Mesoamerica, however, a new fire was also drilled when a new lineage or alliance was formed and when a newly elected ruler acceded to the throne (Olivier 2007). Thus, if Ringle (2004) is right in thinking that the Venus Platform served as a station during royal investitures, new fires may very well have been drilled there or nearby at those times. Further reason to think the Venus Platform was associated with new fire rituals and investitures comes from Seler’s (1960–1961, 1:693–694) observation that the year-bundle on the Venus Platform appears to be bound with a 42

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cord that takes the form of the so-called Mesoamerican year sign at the top. Throughout Mesoamerica the year sign signaled a new beginning, whether it be of a calendric period, the founding of a new city, or the start of a new ruler’s reign. Seler posited that the eight roundels flanking the bundle represent the number eight and that their appearance together with the year-bundle connotes a period of eight 52-year cycles that coincide with 260 cycles of the planet Venus.20 Hasso von Winning (1979, 18) later demurred, however, noting that the horizontal bar below the year sign could represent the number five. For Winning, the bar and the roundels together most likely refer to the correlation of five synodic revolutions of Venus with eight solar years.21 Most subsequent scholars have accepted Winning’s proposal.22 Both Taube’s and Seler’s identifications of the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform would theoretically make sense in the context of a Venussolar cycle if, as is commonly believed, the Maya timed their battles in accord with the stations of Venus. The notion that they did so was popularized in the 1990s under the rubrics “Tlaloc-Venus War” and “Star Wars,” both of which were based on the recurrent association of Classic Maya warriors with Venus (Schele and Freidel 1990, 130–135; Schele and Grube 1994). It gained some support from early colonial sources stating that the Aztecs launched attacks at the time of Venus’s heliacal rise (Bierhorst 1992, 36–37; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:186, 7:11–12). Moreover, the Aztec god Tlahuizcalpanteuctli (Dawn Lord, also spelled Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli), who personified the morning star, wields one or more darts or arrows in both Mexican and Maya painted manuscripts (e.g., Codex Vaticanus B 80–84; Codex Borgia 53, 76; Codex Cospi 9–11; Codex Dresden 48; see also Mathiowetz et al. 2015, 8–9). This accords with both the Aztec Leyenda de los soles (Bierhorst 1992, 148–149; 80) and the writings of Gerónimo de  Mendieta (1971, 79–80), which tell us that following the birth of the fifth and present sun, which remained stationary in the sky, Tlahuizcalpanteuctli tried to get it to move by shooting it with an arrow. Additional evidence that Mesoamericans associated Venus with war comes from numerous figures at Chichen Itza and Tula of armed warriors who wear, or are in one way or another attached to, a prominent Venus glyph ( Jiménez García 1998, figs. 60, 61; V. Miller 1989). Aztec sources, however, do not describe the attacks coordinated with Venus’s heliacal rise as large-scale battles with an enemy; on the contrary, the myths specify that the victims were captives, old men and women, and, in some instances, children. This suggests acts of human sacrifice rather than warfare. We are explicitly told that the Aztecs sacrificed captives upon the morning star’s reappearance, including a person who impersonated the planet (Bierhorst H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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1992, 36–37; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:186, 7:11–12). Moreover, the claim that the Maya timed their wars in accord with the morning star has recently been seriously challenged (Aldana 2005; Voit 2012). Under these circumstances, whereas the presence of Quetzalcoatl as the Feathered Serpent on the Venus Platform would conceivably be appropriate even if the platform had nothing to do with warfare, there would seem to be no discernible reason for the War Serpent to appear there. Seler’s reading of the Venus Platform, in other words, seems Figure 3.5. Feathered Serpent head, stone block to make more sense than Taube’s. found near the Great Ball Court. Drawing by Mark Van Stone after a rubbing by Merle Green Robertson. THE ZOOMORPH

Cross-Hatching, Plumes, Beards, Scales, Curled Snouts, and Tongues

Taube and Seler agree on one thing, however; both identify the zoomorph on the Venus Platform as a supernatural serpent. This is supported by the sporadic patches of cross-hatching that dot its face. In Classic Maya imagery unenclosed patches of cross-hatching are most commonly seen on crocodilians and snakes, where, as a sign of the color black, they seem to indicate the darkness of the reptile’s skin (Houston et al. 2009, 33–35; Thompson 1970, 75, 263).23 A close look at the Venus Platform zoomorph, however, reveals problems with both Taube’s and Seler’s more specific identifications. For example, Mesoamerican fire serpents are never heavily plumed, if they have feathers at all. Nor are fire serpents depicted with a beard like the one on the Venus Platform zoomorph. Feathered Serpents, on the other hand, do occasionally sport a beard, as in the mural to the right of the doorway of Building A at eighth-century Cacaxtla (Brittenham 2015, fig. 278). There is also a beard on the profile head of a plumed serpent carved on a stone block found by Merle Greene Robertson near the Great Ball Court at Chichen Itza, which also has a visible beaded tube—presumably one of a pair—on the tip of its nose (figure 3.5). In the natural 44

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world, however, snakes do not have beards, which are more commonly seen on some lizards and iguanas. This raises the possibility that the Maya tended to conflate certain reptiles in their mind and imagery, as Harri Kettunen and Bon V. Davis II (2004) have argued. As we will see, there are other reasons to suspect this was the case for the Venus Platform zoomorph as well. There are additional reasons to question Taube’s (1992a) identification of the Venus Platform zoomorph as a War Serpent. One is that the zoomorph lacks the mosaic tiles or scales, diagnostic of the Classic War Serpent and the later Fire Serpent’s most distinguishing feature: a large, upturned snout that curls up and back over Figure 3.6. Fire Serpent, Mixtec, Codex the top of its head (figure 3.6). Nuttall 79. After Nuttall (1903). There are also reasons to doubt Taube’s (2000, 286, fig. 10.11f ) contention that the War Serpent’s butterfly attributes appear on the Venus Platform. Taube suggests, for example, that the Composite Creature’s abnormally large and distinctly bifurcated tongue represents a butterfly’s proboscis. While it is true that Mesoamericans depicted some butterflies with a curled, bifurcated tongue, the depictions known to me postdate the Venus Platform by several centuries (Codex Borgia 71; Codex Magliabechiano 8v). When the butterfly is presented en face in two-dimensional Teotihuacan images, its proboscis is usually a single element that extends above the insect’s crown, and that curls to one side (e.g., A. Miller 1973, fig. 110; Séjourné 1966, fig. 93). In nature, moreover, the butterfly’s tongue is extremely thin and is not bifurcated. Most scholars more logically assume that the zoomorph’s tongue is that of a snake, many of which in nature have a bifurcated tongue. Some lizards also have a bifurcated tongue, however, and their tongues are actually larger and longer than a serpent’s. The Venus Platform zoomorph’s tongue could therefore refer to one or more reptiles other than the serpent, including the crocodile (Crocodylus, known as áayin in Yucatan). Although crocodiles’ tongues in the natural world H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.7. Cipactli on bottom of Aztec stone box, Museum am Rothenbaum—Kulturen und Künste der Welt, Hamburg. After Seler (1960–1961 [1902–1923], 2:734, fig. 24).

neither protrude nor are bifurcated, Aztec artists often depicted their piscine earth crocodile Cipactli with a protruding, bifurcated tongue (figure 3.7). As we will see, there are other reasons to think the zoomorph is, in part, a crocodile. Feathered Eyes, Butterfly Antennae, Feather Panaches, Mats, Beaded Tubes, and Dentition

Similarly missing from the Venus Platform zoomorph are the featheredged eyes that Taube (2000, 282–283) associates with the butterfly, but which appear at Classic Teotihuacan on birds, canines, felines, and crocodilians as well (A. Miller 1973, figs. 18, 22, 40, 99, 168–177, 320, 361–363, 367). Likewise, the zoomorph lacks the crenellated edgings that often represent a butterfly’s wings. Nor does Taube’s (2000, 282) contention that the two lateral feather panaches on the zoomorph’s head represent butterfly antennae hold up well on close comparison with Classic Mesoamerican depictions of butterflies. In Teotihuacan and Teotihuacan-style art, butterfly antennae typically take the 46

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form of panaches of feathers with a bulbous form, possibly a flower, located somewhere along their length (e.g., Berlo 1992, fig. 8). The bulbs are missing on the Venus Platform panaches, where the feathers are instead planted in the above-mentioned feather-rimmed containers bearing a crossed-bands sign. I will take up the significance of the crossed-bands sign further on, but for the moment suffice it to note that it never appears on the Feathered Serpent or on the Fire Serpent in Classic and Postclassic art. Unlike War and Fire Serpents, moreover, the Feathered Serpent frequently appears together with the mat symbol, which, as noted above, is represented on one of the panels flanking the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform. This may be the case because the Feathered Serpent was associated with rulership; at Teotihuacan it is depicted more than once resting on a mat (S. Sugiyama 2000, 121, 126, 128, fig. 3.8, 126). The Aztecs likewise associated the Feathered Serpent with the mat, carving their own, plaited version of a mat above the eyes of some stone-carved Feathered Serpents (López Luján et al. 2005, figs. 2a, 2b; Nicholson 2000, 158–159, figs.  4.17, 4.18). In addition, some Mesoamerican Feathered Serpents, such as those at Cacaxtla and one on page 2 of the Codex Laud, have, planted on their nose or crown, the two beaded rods, set in a small ring, that we also see on the Venus Platform zoomorph. As noted above, the Feathered Serpent on the stone block discovered by Robertson has them as well (figure 3.5). Although similar beaded tubes appear on the heads of many other Mesoamerican supernatural beings, both human and animal, I have not found any on Fire Serpents. As Taube (2005, 43) notes, the beaded tubes in these images resemble the beaded tubes of jade that project from a doughnut-shaped disk in many Maya ear ornaments.24 The disks are sometimes carved to represent a flower, and the tubes most likely represent its stamen or pistil, the bead its anther or stigma (Matthew McDavitt, personal communication 2019; Stuart 1992). As Taube (1996, 71) explains, jade (more accurately, jadeite), like flowers and quetzal feathers, was closely associated with maize, water, wind, breath, and preciousness in general throughout Mesoamerica (see also M. Miller and Samayoa 1998, 58, 65). The Aztecs associated Quetzalcoatl with all of these phenomena, whereas the Fire Serpent had little, if anything, to do with them. The result of the foregoing is that I see little reason to interpret the Venus Platform zoomorph as the War Serpent but a number of reasons to agree with Seler that it refers to Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan as the Feathered Serpent. But does it only represent the Feathered Serpent? I raise the question for several reasons, the first being that many scholars claim to see one or more jaguar components in the Venus Platform zoomorph. George Kubler (1982, 170), for H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.8. Head of Composite Creature, Temple of the Warriors. Photograph by Virginia Miller.

example, thought the Composite Creature’s lolling tongue was that of a jaguar, although in the natural world the jaguar’s tongue is not bifurcated. Another reason often given for thinking that the zoomorph is partially feline is that its maw, or snout, is broad and roughly square in shape. When the three-dimensional composite zoomorphs on the Temple of the Warriors are viewed from the side, however, the shape of their projecting head is clearly reptilian (figure 3.8).25 Then, too, the dentition of many, if not most, of the three-dimensional serpent heads on the Great Platform takes the form of one or two rows of short, square-shaped, almost humanlike incisors flanked by short, stubby canines. This is also the case for the zoomorph on the Venus Platform. Kubler (1982, 11) contended that the Venus Platform zoomorph’s teeth are feline, presumably because Mesoamerican sculptors often represented feline canines as relatively short and stubby, and feline incisors as somewhat human in shape. The same dentition appears, however, on the projecting Feathered Serpent heads on the 48

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balustrades of both the Venus Platform and the nearby Platform of the Eagles and Jaguars, indicating that dentition is not always a reliable indicator of species (figure 3.9). The Venus Platform zoomorph also lacks the large, rounded or triangular ears with slightly recessed inner areas that almost always project from a large cat’s crown in Mesoamerican imagery. Although some people may see as a jaguar’s ears the rounded areas above its temples, the ear’s recessed area is missing, and the rounded areas look nothing like feline ears elsewhere in Mesoamerican art. As noted previously, I instead see the rounded areas as containers for the panaches of long, flowing feathers that rise to left and right above the zoomorph’s head. Feet and Legs

Seler (1960–1961, 1:692) also perceived the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform as partly feline and linked it to the Aztec military order associated with the jaguar. Alfred Tozzer (1957, 123–124) followed him, identifying the zoomorph’s clawed feet as those of a jaguar. Jaguars, however, have large, furry paws with relatively short, retractable claws (cf. Baudez and Latsanopoulos 2010). The Venus Platform zoomorph’s claws, as noted above, are instead quite long and razor-sharp. This explains Laurette Séjourné’s (1976, 35–36) belief that the Feathered Serpent is a bird with serpentine attributes and David Freidel and his colleagues’ (1993, 377–338) description of Composite Creatures in general as “screaming bird deities.” Other scholars, however, have more precisely identified the Venus Platform zoomorph’s feet as those of a raptor (e.g., Garza 1984, 182). This distinguishes it from the vast majority of earlier central Mexican Composite Creatures, which lack talons. The only earlier Composite Creature known to me that has a raptor’s talons appears on a Teotihuacan-style vase from Santiago Ahuizotla in the Federal District of Mexico, which is now in the Ethnologisches Museum in Berlin (Seler 1960–1961, 5:516–517, fig. 168).26 This suggests that the idea of combining body parts of two or more animal species, one of which is a bird, was well known at Teotihuacan. Together with the Venus Platform zoomorph’s lavish plumage in the form of rows of long, flowing feathers lining the outer edges of its forelegs and the three feather panaches rising from the top of its crown, its talons therefore tell us that it is not just a supernatural snake or crocodile. It is also, in part, a bird of prey (Garza 1984, 182). But what bird—or birds—are represented? Although most of the pigment on the Venus Platform has long since worn off, some green paint still remains on the plumage of the Composite Creature on both it and the H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.9. Feathered Serpent on balustrade, Platform of the Eagles and Jaguars. Photograph by Geoffrey Braswell.

Venus Platform in the Osario Group. The green pigment surely identifies the plumage with the resplendent quetzal, which further supports Seler’s identification of the zoomorph with the Feathered Serpent. Where color is present, late Postclassic figures of the Xiuhcoatl are invariably red. Nonetheless, the quetzal is not a raptor, and its feet are small and delicate. The only other birds associated with Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan are ducks, among the Aztecs, possibly the hooded merganser (Lophodytes cucullatus) (O’Mack 1991). Ducks have webbed feet, however, not talons. Thus, the bird talons on the feet of the Venus Platform zoomorph clearly were not associated with Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan. I will return below to the question of the bird’s identity. To further complicate matters, the Venus Platform zoomorph’s raptorial feet appear on forelegs that are much too thick and sturdy to be those of a bird. Moreover, snakes in nature do not have legs, and the Feathered Serpent never appears with legs in Mesoamerican imagery. When the Fire Serpent is depicted with forelegs and occasionally back legs as well, its legs are relatively spindly, quite unlike the hefty forelegs of the Venus Platform zoomorph (figure 3.6). Taube (2000, 285) suggests that the Fire Serpent’s forelegs channel the forelegs of a caterpillar, but in nature a caterpillar’s legs are even shorter, thinner, and much more delicate than a bird’s. So to what species do the zoomorph’s forelegs belong? At one level, as Tozzer (1957, 123) noted, the zoomorph’s forelegs look very much like human arms. This reading is supported by the jeweled bands on the wrists of the zoomorphs on both Venus Platforms and the Osario pyramid, which are similar to those worn by both humans and deities in Classic Maya art (Proskouriakoff 1950, 71–81, fig. 27, nos. A3–A7). That the zoomorph’s forelegs were seen as human arms has important implications, for it means that in addition to being part reptile and part bird, it has a human component. It is, in other words, partly reptile, partly avian, and partly human. But if the zoomorph’s arms are human, whose arms would they be? War and Fire Serpents, like Feathered Serpents, never have human legs. The Aztec god Quetzalcoatl, on the other hand, as we saw above, was also envisioned as Topiltzin and Ehecatl, both of whom had a predominantly human form. The presence on an en face Feathered Serpent of forelegs that look like human arms may therefore refer to one of Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan’s essentially human manifestations. This reading counters Kubler’s (1982) assumption that the Venus Platform zoomorph’s forelegs are feline. Although it is true that numerous early Classic central Mexican zoomorphs depicted en face have the broad maw, large ears projecting from the top of the crown, and the sizeable, upturned nose with demarcated nostrils that suggest a feline, except for those wearing helmets, none has a human head in its jaws (figure 3.10).27 H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Early Maya Composite Creatures

Nonetheless, it was surely from this early Classic Teotihuacan-style version of the en face, predominantly feline zoomorph that the later Composite Creature at Chichen Itza evolved. The motif was introduced, directly or indirectly, into the Maya lowlands no later than the mid-sixth century, when a pair of locally produced Teotihuacan-style tripod vessels, thought to have been made at or near Quirigua, were deposited in the Sub-Jaguar tomb of Copan’s Ruler 8 (Bell et al. 2004, 151–154; Fields and Reents-Budet 2005, 230–231, cat. nos. 128, 129; Reents-Budet et al. 2004, 181–188, fig. 9.14) (figure 3.11).28 By this time Copan, as noted previously, had been interacting with Teotihuacan for over two centuries. Although the feet of the zoomorphs on the Copan tripods are not depicted, their broad snouts and noses with evident nostrils and the absence of a human face in their jaws relate them to the feline zoomorphs depicted frontally at Teotihuacan. Maya artists, in contrast, from the beginning represented the vast majority of their supernatural zoomorphs as essentially reptilian or avian rather than feline. This was the case for both two-dimensional, pictorial figures and sculptures-in-the round. Moreover, in contrast to Teotihuacan en face zoomorphs on ceramics (figure 3.10) and the derivative figures on the Sub-Jaguar tomb tripods at Copan (figure 3.11), the Maya typically inserted a human head into the creature’s mouth or beak. It was therefore permutations of the early Classic Maya genre that most likely influenced the conformation of the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform. Two early Classic Maya examples of a scaly reptile with a human head in its mouth appear on a Teotihuacan-style painted lidded bowl discovered in Burial 10 at Tikal (figure 3.12).29 Thought to date to the first decade of the fifth century, Burial 10 was the tomb of the city’s ruler, Yax Nuun Ayiin I (First/Bluegreen-Knot-Crocodile), who is known to have had a connection to Teotihuacan (Coggins 1975, 142–187; Stone 1990; Stuart 2000, 2019; Wright 2005).30 Three of the anthropomorphic heads on the vessel, although differing in certain details, represent an early Classic forerunner of the Aztec rain and lightning god Tlaloc, whose distinctive goggled visage proliferated at Teotihuacan and, from there, quickly spread into the Maya area (Groff 2007). One of the “Tlalocs,” which is on the lid, emerges from the open mouth of an agnathic, shark-toothed reptile with fish barbels at the corners of its mouth. On the opposite side of the lid, an early Classic predecessor of the Aztec god Xipe Totec (Flayer God) peers out from a virtually identical reptile’s open mouth.31 In Classic Maya imagery, a shark’s tooth at the center front of a zoomorph’s upper jaw identifies it with the earth and the watery underworld, 52

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Figure 3.10. Ceramic tripod vase with zoomorph, Teotihuacan. Courtesy Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection.

and fish barbels likewise point to a watery residence (M. Miller and Taube 1993, 152–153). Importantly, some crocodiles have a large, single tooth at the front of their upper jaw. That the crocodile, along with the shark, is referenced by the zoomorphs on the Tikal bowl is indicated by the long, even rows of sharp, decidedly hooked, L-shaped teeth to each side of the shark tooth (McDavitt 2002; Rice 2019, 3–4). Hooked teeth like these appear elsewhere in Classic Maya art on images of crocodiles. The scaly heads on the Tikal bowl lid may therefore be a conflation of two aquatic creatures: the shark and the crocodile. The Maya, like the Preclassic Olmec before them, often cognitively conflated the shark and the crocodile. Like many other Mesoamericans, they believed that they lived on the back of a giant crocodile floating in a vast sea, which they sometimes depicted with the tail, gills, and/or fins of a fish. The Aztecs similarly often portrayed their piscine crocodilian Cipactli with the head, tail, and/or, in some cases, entire body of a sawfish (figure H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.11. Cylindrical tripod vessel, Sub-Jaguar tomb, Copan. Courtesy Instituto Hondureño de Antropología e Historia, Centro Regional de Investigaciones Arqueológicas, Copan, Honduras (CPN-C 1512), and the Early Copan Acropolis Program, Penn Museum, Philadelphia.

Figure 3.12. Painted Teotihuacan-style bowl with lid, Burial 10, Tikal. Museo de Sitio, Tikal. Courtesy Penn Museum, Philadelphia, image 61_1_20.

3.7).32 The likelihood that both of the zoomorphs on the Tikal bowl lid represent such a piscine crocodilian is increased by the crisscrossed vertical and horizontal black lines on its skin, which suggest a crocodile’s scutes.33 It is entirely possible, moreover, that the two identical zoomorphs on the opposing sides of the Tikal bowl lid are to be understood as parts of a single, bicephalic crocodilian.34 The Classic and Postclassic Maya frequently depicted a composite serpentine/crocodilian creature with a zoomorphic head at each end that scholars refer to as the Cosmic Monster or the Bicephalic Dragon, among other names (Stone and Zender 2011, 182–183, 230). Although the Cosmic Monster’s two heads are usually different from one another, they often have a human figure or head in their gaping jaws.35 Some two-headed dragons also have the hooves, ears, and/or antlers of a deer, a configuration often called the “Starry Deer Crocodile” (Stuart 2005, 72–73).36

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Noses and Crocodiles

On the Copan Sub-Jaguar tomb vessels, as on most of the en face, felinehybrid zoomorphs at Teotihuacan, the beast’s nose is typically represented as an upraised, roughly oval-shaped form divided at the bottom into two halves. At the bottom the two sides curl inward, then up and around to create the creature’s nostrils. At Chichen Itza the same pictorial convention was used to create the nostrils of the carved serpent heads projecting from the balustrades of the structures on the Great Platform, whose nostrils are further accentuated as dark recesses. In contrast to all of these, the oval form on the snout of the Venus Platform zoomorph has at the center a single, short, wavy horizontal line, while the two bottom halves of the oval curl inward only slightly. The result is that the Venus Platform zoomorphs lack clearly demarcated nostrils. For this reason, I doubt that the oval on the snout of the Venus Platform zoomorph represents the nose of a feline or any other mammal, for that matter. Instead, I think it more likely represents the blunt snout of a reptile. In nature, when viewed from the front, the nostrils of snakes, turtles, iguanas, lizards, and crocodiles are either very tiny or invisible. It is also possible that the oval “nose” of the Venus Platform zoomorph represents the raised bump on the tip of a crocodile’s snout (figure 3.13a). J. Eric S. Thompson (1970, 222) wrote almost five decades ago that “the Maya had trouble in depicting the long snout of the crocodile in full view; it appears as a sort of elongated blob.” The Maya at Chichen Itza would have been familiar with the crocodile. In Quintana Roo, which borders on Yucatan, Morelet’s crocodile (Crocodylus moreletti) could be and still is found inhabiting freshwater lakes, rivers, ponds, and streams, while the larger American crocodile (Crocodylus acutus) makes its home in rivers and swamps to the south along the Gulf Coast.37 Nonetheless, crocodiles were—and still are—often conflated in Maya speech with other reptiles. For example, there is a common tendency in Yucatan to refer to both crocodiles and lizards as áyiin (Arellano Hernández 1995, 18–19; 2001, 201; Barrera Vásquez 1980, 4, 272; Robles Cortés 2017). Literary evidence that the Maya tended to cognitively conflate multiple reptilian species appears in a riddle in the Yucatec Ritual of the Bacabs: Who is sealed up there,

According to the meaning of First Iguana there, First Crocodilian, First World-Destruction,

First Basilisk? (Knowlton 2015, 36)

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Figure 3.13. (a) Crocodylus acutus, Yucatan. Courtesy César Barrios-Amorós, Doc Frog Photography; ( b) upper quadrants of Venus Platform zoomorph’s head, divided; (c) Tlalteuctli on underside of Aztec stone box. Museum am Rothenbaum— Kulturen und Künste der Welt, Hamburg. After Seler (1960–1961 [1902–1923], 2:735, fig. 25).

The name “Basilisk” comes from an imaginary reptile in European bestiaries and Greek myths that was half rooster and half serpent. It has been incorporated into the Latin names of several kinds of Mesoamerican lizard, including the crested green lizard (Basiliscus plumifrons), found in southern Mexico and Guatemala. The Ritual of the Bacabs riddle therefore implies that the Maya perceived the lizard and the iguana as close relatives, if not aspects, of the larger crocodile. Timothy Knowlton (2015, 37–38), citing Garza et al. (1983, 1:72), notes that in the Ritual of the Bacabs, as well as the 1572 Relación de la Ciudad de Mérida, a crocodilian called Yax Itzam (First/Bluegreen Itzam) is conflated with a “beaded lizard-turtle.” The beaded lizard (Heloderma horridum; yx hunpeakin), a larger relative of the Gila monster, likewise lives in Mexico and southern Guatemala. Supernatural reptilian hybrids consisting of the body parts of a turtle, a lizard, an iguana, a shark, and a crocodile often appear in Maya imagery, many holding a human head in their mouths (Kettunen and Davis 2004).38 Thus, as noted above, the zoomorph on the Venus Platform may have implicitly referenced more than one reptile. Nonetheless, the larger and more powerful crocodile reigned as the “king” of the reptiles. This is likely due to its large size and its ability both to swim in water, often staying submerged for long periods of time, and to walk on land. It must be for these reasons that Maya rulers often claimed special ties to its impressive powers (Thompson 1970, 232, 210–211; Tokovinine 2008, 6). Stela 6 at Piedras Negras, for example, depicts a new ruler’s throne configured as a crocodile (Stuart 2005, 89). In the seventeenth century the Spaniard Bernardo de Lizana (2018 [1893], 23v) wrote of the Maya in Yucatan, “They worshipped the crocodile.” Accordingly, crocodilian body parts, such as scutes and teeth, have been found archaeologically throughout the Maya area, usually in special offerings made by elites (Rice 2018; Sharpe and Emery 2015, 288–289; N. Sugiyama et al. 2019; Thurston 2011, 67–94). A full skeleton of a crocodile was found in Yax Nuun Ayiin’s tomb (Burial 10) at Tikal.39 The Maya were not alone in regarding the crocodile as sacred; peoples living in central Mexico also revered crocodiles. Crocodile teeth carved of greenstone were found at the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent at early Classic Teotihuacan, for example. Furthermore, the remains, at last count, of twenty crocodilians, as well as many crocodile teeth, have been found at the Aztec Templo Mayor (Robb 2017, 255, cat. no. 47; Robles Cortés 2017, 2019, 25).40 Likelihood that the zoomorph on the Venus Platform has a substantially crocodilian component is increased when we divide its head into quarters along the central vertical and horizontal axes. The upper quadrants look very much like 58

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two profile crocodile heads placed snout to snout. I argued over four decades ago that artists conceptually created the bisymmetrical, en face head of the female Aztec terrestrial zoomorph Tlalteuctli (Earth Ruler, also known as Tlaltecuhtli) by combining two inverted profile heads of Cipactli, who was male (Klein 1976, 55; 1988, 243–245; 2020) (figures 3.13b, 3.13c). The reason that Tlalteuctli’s head was upturned, I contended, is that she was decapitated and depicted in dorsal rather than frontal view, with her severed head hanging upside down over the top of her back.41 As we will see, this parallels Maya tales of a supernatural crocodilian that was long ago decapitated by the gods—the same creature, I will suggest, that is represented in part by the zoomorph on the Venus Platform. A crocodilian component of the zoomorph on the Venus Platform is also implied by its forelegs, for crocodiles, like iguanas and turtles, support their weight on thick, strong legs that flex at the middle like those of the zoomorph. Thus, the Venus Platform zoomorph’s forelegs may have been perceived as saurian as well as human. But if the legs and/or the head of the Venus Platform zoomorph are, at one level, those of a crocodile, what explains the decision to combine them with the feet of a powerful bird of prey? Crocodiles have no feathers, and their feet are comparatively chubby, with thick, slightly webbed toes and short, stubby claws. The crocodile’s feet in no way resemble the feet of the Venus Platform zoomorph. Itzamnaaj

I propose that by combining crocodilian body parts with body parts of a feathered serpent, a bird of prey, and at least one human, the carvers of the Venus Platform reliefs rendered the stylistically and originally Mexican zoomorph all the more relevant to the Maya. They did this by intentionally fusing the originally Mexican deity Quetzalcoatl with the god known in Yucatan as Itzamnaaj. Like Quetzalcoatl, Itzamnaaj was envisioned as having multiple manifestations, one of which was human, another crocodilian, and yet another avian.42 At the time of the Spanish conquest of Yucatan, Itzamnaaj was the supreme deity of the entire region, a god of special importance to local elites, some of whom incorporated his name into theirs (Stuart 2005, 67; Thompson 1970, 209–233; Tozzer 1975, 146). The practice parallels later Aztec rulers’ claims to have inherited their throne from Quetzalcoatl (Alvarado Tezozomoc 1975, 659; Carrasco 2000, 36–38; Sahagún 1950–1982, 6:83, 141). Like Quetzalcoatl as well, Itzamnaaj was credited with having invented writing and served as the first priest, and like him, he played a principal role during the creation of the universe (Roys 1967 [1933], 100; Tozzer 1975, 145–146). Just as the Feathered Serpent, in his manifestation as the wind, was said by H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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the Aztecs to sweep the way for the coming rains, Itzamnaaj was petitioned for rain in times of drought (López de Cogolludo 2007 [1688], 289; Thompson 1939, 152). According to the Cordemex Dictionary, Itzamnaaj further embodied the wisdom and magical powers of water in general (Barrera Vásquez 1980, 272). This appears to be reflected in his name, for among the Maya, the root word itz could refer to a variety of excreted liquids, such as milk, semen, tears, sweat, and tree resins. Itz also referred to the dew, which was conceived of as virgin water from the sea, springs, and rain (Bassie 2002, 15, 35). Lizana (2018 [1893], 4) wrote that the Yucatec god Itzamat Ul told the people, “I am the itz, or substance of heaven, I am the itz of the clouds” (translation by Thompson 1939, 152).43 Quetzalcoatl was similarly associated with water; on the Feather Serpent Pyramid at Teotihuacan, as in the cornices of the Venus Pyramid, Feathered Serpents swim among sea creatures (Seler 1960–1961, 5:figs. 244, 245; Uriarte 2009, 18). God D and Skybands

Just as Quetzalcoatl had, over time, become conflated with Topiltzin and the wind god Ehecatl, both of whom were envisioned as essentially or entirely human in form, Itzamnaaj was sometimes depicted as an old man with a Roman nose—that is, as a human. Scholars, following Paul Schellhas (1887, 1904), often refer to the god’s human persona as God D (Taube 1992b, 31–41).44 If, as I suggested above, the Venus Platform zoomorph’s forelegs were deliberately rendered to resemble human arms, they therefore may have referenced not only Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl’s arms but the arms of God D as well. The wide wristbands rimmed with beads on the Venus Platform zoomorph closely resemble those sometimes represented on God D in codices and painted ceramics (figure 3.14a).45 Widely described in the colonial period as a celestial deity, God D sometimes appears in manuscript and vase paintings sitting on a throne in the form of what Mayanists call the skyband, a wide, usually horizontal band that typically contains, among various celestial symbols, the crossed-bands sign that we see on the Venus Platform zoomorph (Carlson and Landis 1985) (figure 3.14b). Some Maya depictions show God D with a crossed-bands sign on his head or body as well. In other images, such as that in Paris Codex 23, the skyband takes the form of what remains of the Bicephalic Dragon’s body, which sometimes has legs and/or a beard like that of the Feathered Serpent (Love 1994, 84). As noted previously, these features—the beard and the crossed-bands sign—also appear on the Venus Platform zoomorph. 60

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Figure 3.14. (a) Itzamnaaj as God D, detail of a Maya vase painting (K7226). Drawing by Simon Martin. (b) Itzamnaaj seated on avian skyband throne under head of Itzam Kab Ayiin, after Codex Dresden 46. Drawing by Simon Martin.

Itzam Kab Ayiin, the Earth Crocodile

Other Bicephalic Dragons more closely resemble a crocodile (Milbrath 1999, 285). This is the case, for example, for the elongated creature depicted in profile in Codex Dresden 4–5 (figure 3.15). There both of the bicephalic zoomorph’s profile heads are clearly visible, as are a foreleg and a back leg that appear to be those of the Starry Deer Crocodile. The dragon’s front head holds God D’s head in its jaws (Taube 1992b, 37–38, fig. 15a). The Codex Dresden image is particularly relevant because the manuscript is thought to be a twelfth- or thirteenth-century copy of an older manuscript recording an observation of Venus first made at Chichen Itza shortly before, if not contemporary with, the construction of the Venus Platform (Aldana 2016; Aveni 2001, 274–275). The creature in Codex Dresden 4–5, however, is often identified not as the celestial Bicephalic Dragon, but as Itzamnaaj’s terrestrial manifestation, Itzam Kab Ayiin, sometimes identified as the Itzam Earth Crocodile (Taube 1989).46 That Itzam Kab Ayiin was an aquatic being is indicated by its snout, which frequently bears a cut shell signaling the creature’s ability to exude mist and clouds, and by its frequent association with water lilies (Martin 2015, 194–196).47 Nonetheless, the Yucatec Book of Chilam Balam of Tizimin tells how Itzam Kab Ayiin once, long ago, rose into the sky to release a deluge of water that flooded the world.48 For this the gods decapitated him, after which, H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.15. Itzamna as God D in the mouth of Itzam Kab Ayiin, Codex Dresden 4–5. From Spinden (1975 [1913], fig. 90).

according to the Codex Pérez, “with his body [they] formed the surface of the Petén [i.e., the central southern lowlands]” (Craine and Reindorp 1979, 118; Knowlton 2010, 72–75). This resonates with the iconographic evidence laid out above that the essentially crocodilian Aztec earth zoomorph, Tlalteuctli, was decapitated as well. Many scholars have suggested that it is the deluge referred to in Maya creation myths that we see in Codex Dresden 74, where part of a skyband terminates in a reptilian head disgorging a large stream of bright blue water (Thompson 1939, 153–154; Vail and Hernández 2013, 54; Velásquez García 2002) (figure 3.16).49 The theme was already old by the time the Dresden Codex was created, for the inscription on the south panel of the eighth-century platform in Temple XIX at Palenque refers to a “painted back caiman” that, at the beginning of time, was decapitated by the Maya creator deity known as GI (Stuart 2005, 68–77; Velásquez García 2006).50 Like the zoomorph on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza, Itzam Kab Ayiin is occasionally bearded and has the crossed-bands sign on his body (Thompson 1970, 222–223). That the zoomorph is partly crocodilian is further supported by the Maya hieroglyph for the word “crocodile,” which takes the form of the reptile’s head, viewed in profile, with a crossed-bands sign in its eye (Stone and Zender 2011, 183). Although the crossed-bands sign also appears in the glyph for sky (T552), Thompson (1970, 222) noted that it sometimes appears in a clearly terrestrial context (see also Carlson and Landis 1985). I therefore 62

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follow Prudence Rice (2019, 2) in thinking that it refers to the cosmic axis at the center of the universe that connects the terrestrial and celestial realms.51 If this is correct, the crossedbands signs on the human and reptilian forms of Itzamnaaj are there to tell us that Itzamnaaj is able to access all three of the universe’s major levels, or planes: the heavens, the earth’s surface, and the watery underworld. For Mesoamericans it was the gods’ ascending and descending movements along the cosmic axis that created order and made creation possible (Preuss 1988, 29, 36). From the late Preclassic period forward, the cosmic axis was envisioned as a giant tree, which in some Maya images seems to be metamorphosizing into Itzam Kab Ayiin, or vice versa. Commonly a ceiba (Ceiba pentandra), or yax’che in Yucatan, the world tree was—and still is in places—thought to have roots in the watery underworld and branches that reach into the heavens.52 This implies that the celestial Itzamnaaj transformed into Itzam Figure 3.16. Half of the Maya Bicephalic Kab Ayiin when he descended Dragon with skyband body, Codex Dresden 74 to earth, and vice versa. For this (full page). From Förstemann 1880. reason, as Thompson (1939, 156; 1970, 218) noted, the celestial and terrestrial aspects of Itzamnaaj are sometimes impossible to differentiate. This is all the more the H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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case because the celestial Itzamnaaj was also conceptually conflated with the world tree. This connection is seen on a Classic-period vessel, which shows God D extending his hand to touch a tree with flowering branches rising up from a crocodile head and forelimbs (figure 3.17). Yax Kokaj Muut

The Maya therefore saw Itzamnaaj as comprising both the essentially human God D and the essentially crocodilian Itzam Kab Ayiin. Itzamnaaj, however, had a third major persona as well, which took the form of a powerful raptor with sharp talons. In a number of Classic Maya images God D appears either together or conflated with a giant bird. During the Classic period, as Taube (1992b, 40) points out, the bird served as God D’s principal zoomorphic counterpart (figure 3.18a). A possible early Classic example of the bird appears, en face, at the top of Lintel 3 in Temple IV at Tikal, where, as is the case in many images of the bird, crossed-bands signs are infixed in its lavishly plumed, outspread wings (Stone and Zender 2011, 148).53 Erik Boot (2004, 2008, 1, 12, 14) has identified the raptor’s late Classic (AD 600–900) Maya name as Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut, or simply Itzam Kokaaj Muut. Muut means “bird” in many Maya languages.54 I therefore propose that the sharp talons of the Venus Platform zoomorph are those of Itzamnaaj in his manifestation as Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut. In many images Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut is perched on top of the world tree, and in some a Maya ruler is acceding to rulership under its aegis (Boot 2008, 34–35; Stuart and Stuart 2008, 212, 227).55 An example appears on an incised Maya bone without provenience that shows a dignitary, under the watchful eye of Itzam Na Yax Kokaai Muut, presenting a large, plumed headdress, or “crown,” to a man seated on a skyband throne (Guernsey 2006, fig. 5.15).56 Because, like Itzam Kab Ayiin, Itzamnaaj’s avian manifestation was cognitively related to political power, it, too, would have had special meaning for a ruler acceding to office. Erik Boot (2004, 2; 2008, 28n20, 34n35), noting that in the present-day Tzeltal language the word kokmuut refers to the harpy eagle (Harpia harpyja), identified Itzamnaaj’s avian manifestation with that raptor. With a wingspan of up to seven feet, the harpy eagle is the largest raptor in Yucatan and one of the largest in the world. Boot compared the distinctive patterning of the bird’s wings to those of a bird with the head of God D incised on Monument 48 at Tonina (figure 3.19). His interpretation contrasts with Karen Bassie-Sweet and Nicholas Hopkins’s (2018, 77) contention that Itzamnaaj’s bird is instead a 64

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Figure 3.17. God D paired with a crocodilian tree on a late Classic codex-style vase. After Taube (1992b, fig. 12h).

laughing falcon (Herpetotheres cachinnans; kos), which, although much smaller than a harpy eagle, is likewise a raptor. Either way, Itzamnaaj’s ability to manifest as a powerful bird of prey explains the sharp talons of the Venus Platform zoomorph that combine with body parts drawn from both his reptilian and his human manifestations.57

ITZAMNAAJ AS A COMPOSITE CREATURE

In Classic Maya imagery Itzamnaaj himself is often depicted as an amalgam of body parts derived from at least two, sometimes all three, of his biological aspects. We see this, for example, in the god’s personified name glyph, which takes the form of the profile head of an old man, probably God D, conflated with his avian manifestation as Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut (Boot 2008, 17–8, fig.  11). The Tonina block described above, as Martin (2015, 207) points out, also exemplifies Maya artists’ tendency to fuse Itzamnaaj’s various manifestations within a single figure (figure 3.18a). We see this yet again on a Maya vessel without provenience that sports the head of what is surely God D peering out from under the upper jaw of Itzam Kab Ayiin (Martin 2015, fig. 30d). In a relief on the south side of Altar T at Copan, a winged crocodilian sits upright like a human being, wearing a man’s pectoral and belt as well as H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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Figure 3.18. (a) Itzamna as God D sitting in front of Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut. Drawing by Simon Martin. (b) Harpy eagle. Courtesy Idaho Press.

Figure 3.19. Itzamna as God D conflated with Itzam Kokaaj Muut, Tonina Monument 48. Drawing by Simon Martin.

wristlets similar to those on the Venus Platform zoomorph. A crossed-bands sign at the base of the figure’s wing identifies it as the wing of Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut (Hellmuth 1987, fig. 604; Maudslay 1889–1902, I:plate 96, fig. 4b) (figure 3.20). In Codex Dresden 46, God D sits on a skyband throne under the agnathic head of Itzam Kab Ayiin, and Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut’s head abuts the front of his throne (Martin 2015, 194, 199, fig. 13c) (figure 3.14b). We may also be seeing a conflation of Itzamnaaj’s multiple personas on an early Classic Teotihuacan-style painted cylindrical tripod vessel thought to have come from Altun Ha, Belize (K2027) (figure 3.21). There four disembodied profile heads of an old man, painted red, rest on a single bird leg in front of two large, oval-shaped panels in the form of shells inscribed with

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Figure 3.20. Crocodile-humanbird on south side of Altar T, Copan. Drawing by Linda Schele, courtesy David Schele, www.ancientamericas .org/collection/aa010019.

crossed-bands signs. Although, as Nicholas Hellmuth (1987, 177, 359) points out, the head of the old man has both the fish barbel at the corner of his mouth and the knotted cloth headband usually seen on the Classic creator god GI, other scholars identify it as the head of Itzamnaaj (Fields and ReentsBudet 2005, 151, cat. no. 5; Grofe 2007, 41).58 GI seems to have been closely associated with Itzamanaaj, who is said on the south panel of the platform in Temple XIX at Palenque to have overseen GI’s primordial inauguration (Stuart 2005, 67). The figure’s possible association with Itzamnaaj is further suggested by the long, skinny, curved neck and head that rise from the crown of the old man’s head, which terminates in a head with crocodilian upper teeth, a nonbifurcated tongue, and a blunt snout or nose to which two feather panaches are attached. Hellmuth (1987, 176–177, 359, figs. 355, 358, 360–361, 363–365) identifies the legs, feet, head, and neck of the figure as those of a water bird, but most of his other examples of water birds have a long, thin beak with neither teeth nor tongue, nor are any feather panaches attached to them. Instead, as we saw above, panaches of feathers commonly appear on snakes and crocodilians. This suggests that the head and neck of the creature on the Kimbell Art Museum 68

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Figure 3.21. Teotihuacanstyle cylindrical tripod with lid, ca. AD 400–500; ceramic with stucco and polychrome pigments; height 11 in. (27.9 cm), diameter 6¼ in. (15.9 cm); AP1997.01. Possibly from Altun-Ha, Belize. Courtesy Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, Texas.

vase are principally reptilian rather than avian. Support for this comes from the patches of cross-hatching on them, which, as was noted above, are most frequently seen on reptiles, not birds. Two of Hellmuth’s purported “water birds,” in fact, have the head and neck of a snake (Hellmuth 1987, figs.  357, 359).59 The reptile on the Kimbell tripod therefore represents a conflation of avian, reptilian, and human aspects in a single being, a being who is most likely Itzamnaaj.

THE HUMAN FACE

To summarize my argument thus far, I propose that the zoomorph on the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza is a visual conflation of multiple manifestations of the Mexican god Quetzalcoatl, known to the Maya as K’uk’ulkan, together with those of the Maya god Itzamnaaj. Both of these deities were variously H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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envisioned as a man, a bird, and a reptile. Specifically, the Venus Platform zoomorph combines the long, green avian plumes of the Feathered Serpent with the blunt snout of the crocodilian Itzam Kab Ayiin and the bird talons of Itzam Kokaij Muut. The zoomorph’s forelegs, in turn, simultaneously reference the human arms of both Quetzalcoatl as Topiltzin/Ehecatl and Itzamnaaj as God D as well as the crocodilian Itzam Kab Ayiin.60 The zoomorph on the Venus Platform is therefore a prime example of Martin’s theosynthesis. But if this is how we should understand the zoomorph on the Venus Platform, whose is the human face in its jaws? In a 2019 talk at the annual meeting of the Society for American Archaeology, I pointed to two unusual features of the human face that had not been previously noted (Klein 2019). One distinctive attribute is its nose ornament, which takes the form of an inverted, three-tiered pyramid in silhouette. The second, an entirely unique feature, is its face mask with cut-out eye holes, which takes the place of the eye rings often seen elsewhere on Composite Creatures (figure 3.22). The mask fits the face so tightly that we must assume it was made of skin. At Chichen Itza the only other human faces in a Composite Creature’s maw to wear a stepped nose ornament are (or once were) on the Osario Group Venus Platform, the Osario Pyramid, the entablature of the Northwest Colonnade, and the sanctuary walls of the Temple of the Warriors. None of these faces, however, wears a mask.61 The stepped nose ornament has no parallels in the southern lowlands; Kettunen’s (2006) thorough compendium of Classic Maya nose ornaments makes no mention of it. Nor does the stepped nose ornament ever appear at Tula. It is, however, frequently seen in Postclassic Mexican manuscripts and murals, and there, in every case but one known to me, it is worn by a female.62 Many of the females in the Mixtec historical codices are historical women, but all of the others are goddesses whose primary responsibility was either for plant germination and growth, or the water needed for them to occur. They are, in other words, agricultural fertility deities, as is the single male to wear a tri-stepped nose ornament, the god Xochipilli, “Flower Prince,” who appears so, albeit only once, in the Mixtec Codex San Bartolo Yautepec (Doesburg and Urcid 2017).63 Among the Aztecs, moreover, it was these same deities whose impersonators were ritually flayed after being sacrificed, their skin subsequently donned by a priest. The only other major male deity whose impersonators were similarly flayed and their skins worn by a living person was Xipe Totec, whose primary responsibility was likewise plant germination and growth (González González 2011). Thus, for Mexicans in the Postclassic period, both the stepped nose ornament and the skin mask were associated with plant fertility. This raises two interesting questions. The first is, could the 70

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Figure 3.22. Detail of human face, Venus Platform. Photograph by Gregory Papazian.

anthropomorphic face on the Venus Platform possibly be female? The second is, does it represent the emergence or “birth” of the earth’s vegetation? My reading of the humanlike face as the emergence of vegetation accords with the eye rings worn by human faces in the myriad other, usually smaller Composite Creatures at both Chichen Itza and Tula. Although, as noted above, scholars often identify the human faces in those images as ancestral warriors, eye rings were the hallmark of the rain and vegetation god Tlaloc. Rain was not seen as an end in itself; its purpose was to fertilize the earth’s vegetation. Sahagún (1950–1982, 1:7) makes this clear when he states that “Tlaloc the Provider . . . caused the trees, the grasses, the maize to blossom, to sprout, to leaf out, to bloom, to grow.” Among the Maya, and possibly at Teotihuacan as well, Tlaloc’s eye rings sometimes served as a logogram for the word ch’ok, “sprout,” “unripe,” “young or youth,” and “emergent one,” which resonates with Seler’s (1963, 1:85) proposal that his name derives from the Nahuatl verb tlaloa, which can mean “to sprout” (Grube 2018; Houston 2009, 156–157; Schele 1995, 117; Stuart 2005, 129; cf. Sullivan 1974). The eye rings on the anthropomorphic faces in the maw of other Composite Creatures may therefore have identified them, like the skin face mask on the Venus Platform, as newborn vegetation. H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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In Postclassic Mexican codices, the goddess most consistently depicted with a stepped nose ornament was Xochiquetzal (Flower Quetzal, or Precious Flower), who resided in the watery Flower World called Tamoanchan, where all other flowering plants originated as well. In an Aztec creation myth recorded in the Histoyre du  Mechique, Xochiquetzal is identified as the mother or grandmother of the most important plants, including cotton, chia, chili peppers, and maize ( Jonghe 1905, 31–32). This parallels a passage in the Yucatec Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel’s account of the creation of the world, which tells how a supernatural being named “Lady Quetzal, Lady Lovely Cotinga” “engendered” the world’s very first seeds (Knowlton 2010, 59).64 It is therefore also possible that the anthropomorphic face on the Venus Platform is female. A supernatural personification of emergent vegetation on the Venus Platform would make sense if I am right that the zoomorph from which it emerges is a conflation of Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan and Itzamnaaj. Numerous Classic images show the Maya maize god emerging from the reptilian body of Itzam Kab Ayiin, who in other scenes appears with maize plants growing from its back (Chinchilla Mazariegos 2017, fig. 127; Quenon and le Fort 1997). At times Itzam Kab Ayiin was addressed as “One Maize Crocodile” (Martin 2006, 166; Thompson 1970, 222). As the principal food crop throughout Mesoamerica, maize, like flowers, implicitly represented all of the plants that people depended on for survival. Dennis Puleston (1977, 463), noting the resemblance of the crocodile’s back to the ridged fields farmed by the Maya, described the former as “a metaphor for the food-producing surface of the land.” We know that the theme of plant life in the form of the maize god rising from the zoomorphic earth was familiar to the inhabitants of Chichen Itza, for it is depicted in panels at the top of the pillars in the Lower Temple of the Jaguars, which was roughly contemporary with the Venus Platform. In the panels the maize god, surrounded by lavish flowering vegetation that includes ears of maize, emerges from a cleft in the back of an en face zoomorph that has two crossed-bands signs and two beaded tubes on its body (figure 3.23). Identification of the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform as a representation of the gods’ primordial gift of the earth’s first vegetation also aligns with the interpretations of other reliefs at Chichen Itza as depictions of events that occurred during the Creation and the supernatural beings who enabled them (Freidel et al. 1993; Schele and Mathews 1998, 215–226; Schmidt 2005, 2011; Taube 2015, 2018; Taube et al. 2020). Some of these primordial events were doubtless linked in some way to the cyclic phases of Venus, which throughout Mesoamerica were tied to the agricultural calendar (Milbrath 2017; Šprajc 72

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Figure 3.23. Birth of the Maya maize god, pillar relief, Lower Temple of the Jaguars. After Seler (1960–1961 [1902–1923], 5:fig. 192).

1992, 1993a, 1993b).65 They were also linked to the political ambitions of Maya lords whose accession to office was likened to the primordial birth of maize (Bassie-Sweet 2000, 16; Carroll 2005; M. Miller and Martin 2004, 57–58, 70). Given all of the foregoing, the image of the earth’s vegetation emerging from the open jaws of a cosmic zoomorph constructed of body parts of the two most powerful creator and vegetation deities in Mesoamerica would have been highly appropriate on a structure used for investiture rituals.

CONCLUSION

The impressive technical excellence of the carved Composite Creature on the Venus platform, taken together with the rarity of the nose ornament on the deity face and its unique skin mask, suggests that it was of exceptional importance to the inhabitants of Chichen Itza and had special meaning. Although we may never fully understand what that meaning was, my interpretation of the motif would make sense in terms of the time and context of the Venus Platform’s construction and possible use. In the late ninth and tenth centuries the Maya lowlands were experiencing a serious drought that severely impacted Yucatan as well.66 For a region devoid of rivers, where H OW T O CO N S T R U C T A D R AG O N F O R A C H A N G I N G WO R LD

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other groundwater is scarce and often seasonal, the lack of adequate rainfall would have posed a grave problem for farmers. This could explain the increased presence of Tlaloc’s visage in and around Chichen Itza at the time. It would also explain the introduction and obvious importance at Chichen Itza of the Composite Creature, which, as a representation of the birth of the earth’s vegetation, also implied the potential for the rebirth of plant life. By this time as well, Chichen Itza had become thoroughly multicultural, which would explain why the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform had to be made relevant to Maya and Mexicans alike (Anda et al. 2019a, 2019b; Brady et al. 2019). Finally, if the Venus Platform was used during investiture ceremonies, as Ringle (2004) has proposed, and the installation of the ruler was equated in people’s minds with the maize god and the rebirth of maize, as BassieSweet (2000, 16) and others have argued, the eight Composite Creatures on the Venus Platform—each a prime example of visual theosynthesis—would have given people hope that, with each initiate’s accession to power, their own future would be brighter. Acknowledgments. Too many people provided invaluable help with this study to be individually named, but I am very grateful to all of them. Special thanks go to Geoffrey Braswell, Jeremy Coltman, Virginia Miller, and my son-inlaw Gregory Papazian for sharing their photographs of the Venus Platform and to Margaret Arvey, Cynthia Kristan-Graham, Matthew McDavitt, Susan Milbrath, and Virginia Miller for their ongoing sage advice and expertise.

NOTES

1. George Andrews (cited in Desmond 2008, 160) found the four sides of the Venus Platform to measure 15.8 m and the height to be 4.12 m. 2. Based on excavations of a section of the flooring of the Great Platform, Braswell and Peniche May (2012, 252–253, fig.  9.20) and Volta and Braswell (2014, 389) posit a tenth- to early eleventh-century date for the Venus Platform, which was formerly known as the Platform of the Cones and as Mausoleum III (see also Cobos 2016). Ringle (2017), noting that the site’s few hieroglyphic dates fall in the ninth and tenth centuries, argues, on the other hand, that there is no solid evidence that any of the structures on the Great Platform, or anywhere else at Chichen Itza for that matter, were constructed after AD 1000. Although the exact dating of the Venus Platform remains uncertain, its formal similarities to the Platform of the Eagles and Jaguars may be owed in part to Jorge Acosta’s (1954, 27–30) 1951 reconstruction of the latter, which he based on what remained of the former (Desmond 2008, 157; Le Plongeon 1884). 74

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3. Photographs of the center panels not illustrated in this chapter were kindly provided to me by Virginia Miller and Gregory Papazian. Although all eight panels are identical in terms of their iconography, all of the panels other than the one illustrated here are less skillfully executed and were almost certainly carved by other, less talented artists. 4. Tozzer (1957, 123, 137, table 11) says that at Chichen Itza the Composite Creature appears “almost 500 times” on pillars and piers alone; it can be seen on 36% of the 1,376 columns there. For additional photographs and discussions of the Composite Creatures with the stepped nose ornament at Chichen Itza, see E. Morris et al. (1931, 1:27–28, 62–64, figs. 9, 12, 14, 17–8, 20, 42); Schmidt (1999, 35; 2011, fig. 21b); and Schmidt et al. (1998, cat. no. 68). 5. On the dating of the Osario Group structures, see Cobb et al. (2019); Morante López (2017), 59–60; and Schmidt (2011). 6. Schmidt and colleagues (1998, 622, cat. no. 412) illustrate a lone side panel at Chichen Itza; they suggest there were once at least four Venus platforms at the site but do not say where they think they were located, when they think they were constructed, and where they are now. 7. For Boot (2008, 26n11), the preferred term is “theopolymorphosis,” a process involving the merging of “shapes and forms through which a god can manifest him- or herself.” Hellmuth (1987) writes of the “metamorphosis” of discrete deities. Kettunen and Davis (2004) prefer the word “conflation.” 8. Earlier stone reliefs depicting a Composite Creature were found in Rooms 1 and 2 at El Corral and at Tula Chico, which date to ca. AD 750–850 and 850–900, respectively (Fuente et al. 1988, figs 14, 14a, 130–133; Mandeville and Healan 1989, fig. 12.11; Mastache de Escobar et al. 2002, 128). Others have been found in the area without secure context (e.g., Jiménez García 2010, photo 52). Most of Tula’s surviving Composite Creatures were originally parts of carved friezes that ran around the bases of the last two construction stages of Tollan phase Pyramid B, where they alternated with large birds holding a bleeding heart in one foot; canines and felines perambulate above them (Marquina 1951, figs 45–46, plate 46). Some or all of these creatures also appear at Chichen Itza in the friezes on the Platform of the Eagles and Jaguar, the North Colonnade, and the Temple of the Warriors. Other relief carvings of the Composite Creature were found dislodged from their architectural moorings, lying next to Tula’s largest structure, Pyramid C (Acosta 1956, 1960, 52, 57, plate 18; Klein 2019; Mastache de Escobar et al. 2002, 128). 9. Among the Classic Maya the War Serpent’s name was Waxaklahun-Ubah-Kan (“18 Its Image Snake”) (Freidel et al. 1993, 308–310). It first appeared on the Feathered Serpent Pyramid at Teotihuacan, where the War Serpent takes the form of headdresses

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carried on the tails of Feathered Serpents (Taube 1992a). López Austin and colleagues (1991) identify it instead as the earth crocodilian known to the Aztecs as Cipactli. 10. Milbrath (1999, 264–266) identifies the War Serpent as a scorpion linked with Scorpius, the scorpion constellation on the western horizon in November, and the beginning of the season of warfare. 11. Serpent-head helmets are especially frequent on clay figurines from Cacaxtla, Xochitecatl, and Xochicalco, Epiclassic sites geographically intermediate between Teotihuacan and the Maya area. In a number of those cases they are worn by female figures, some of whom hold a shield or a scepter (Brittenham and Nagao 2014; Taube 1992a, figs 11c, 20b). 12. The Classic Maya also depicted a supernatural serpent today called the squarenose serpent, which was associated with solar fire and royalty. The serpent’s snout turns up at the end somewhat like the snout of War and Fire Serpents (Scherer 2015, 77, 133, 208). 13. Taube’s interpretation of the human head relates to George Kubler’s (1982, 111) speculation that it is a portrait of a ruler “surrounded by emblems of animal power and splendor.” 14. The Aztecs spoke of a serpent with rattles on its tail, which is found in “Totonac country” (Veracruz) and which they called Quetzalcoatl “because the flesh on its back is just like precious feathers.” It could fly high up into the air before suddenly striking someone, at which time a “great wind” would blow (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:85). Las Casas (1967, 1:646–647) wrote that Quetzalcoatl was the name of a serpent native to Xicalanco (Xicalongo), in what is now coastal Tabasco, which could transform into a bird with green feathers, whereas Lincoln’s (1994, 179) Maya informants in Yucatan told him that at the age of fifty to fifty-five years the rattlesnake’s skin “begins to ruffle and take on the appearance, and then the function, of feathers.” 15. For versions of the legend of Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl’s death and transformation into the morning star, see the Anales de Cuauhtitlan (in Bierhorst 1992, 36); the Histoyre du Mechique ( Jonghe 1905, 34–38); Mendieta (1971, 82); and Motolinía (1971, 60). For an overview and analysis of the myths, see Nicholson (2001). 16. In the canonical intervals used in the Codex Dresden Venus tables, Venus remains in the eastern sky for 236 days as the morning star, then enters 90 days of near-to-total invisibility in superior conjunction near the sun, reappears in the western night sky for another 250 days as the evening star, and then becomes invisible for eight days in inferior conjunction before reappearing in the east at dawn (Aveni 2001; Carlson 1991; Teeple 1931, 94). I had previously identified the human face on the Venus Platform as the evening star (Klein 1976, 85–94), an interpretation accepted by Šprajc (1992, 225), but I now have reason to doubt it for reasons that will become clear in the text to follow. 76

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17. Other scholars who embraced Seler’s interpretation of the Composite Creature as Quetzalcoatl include Acosta (1942–1944, 159–160; 1954, 38–39; 1960, 57); Garza (1984, 183); Krickeberg (1964, 250, 252); Kubler (1962, 87); and Moedano-Koer (1946). Although Tozzer (1975, 123–124, 248, figs. 314–333) preferred to simply refer to the Composite Creature as the “Jaguar-Serpent-Bird,” thereby implicitly omitting the anthropomorphic face, he cited Seler’s identification of the zoomorph as Quetzalcoatl. 18. Although the zoomorph does not itself bear a Venus symbol, feathered serpents elsewhere at Chichen Itza often do (V. Miller 1989). Half-Venus glyphs with an embedded half-star also appear on relief fragments found at Tula (Acosta 1942–44, 127, fig. 2). The location of the side panels on the Venus Platform in relation to the center panels reverses at the corners of the platform. 19. Landa (in Tozzer 1975, 158) also says that at several sites in northern Yucatan, including Chichen Itza, New Fire was also kindled on the last five days of the second month, Xul (“end”), in memory of K’uk’ulkan, who was said to descend at these times to receive offerings from the people. The month that followed Xul was Yaxkin (“new sun”), which Tozzer (1975, 158n811) thought might at one time may have begun the New Year in Yucatan. 20. The eight-year Venus-solar cycle consists of eight solar cycles of 365  days (= 2,920 days) that correspond to five Venus cycles of 584 days (= 2,920 days). Milbrath (2013, 143n91) points out that this period also roughly correlates with 99 lunar months. 21. Coggins (1987, 427; 1989, 272–273) argued that the Venus Platform commemorates a larger, 104-year Venus-solar cycle (huehuelistli), an opinion that does not seem to have persuaded other scholars. 22. For examples of scholars who agree with Winning, see Carlson 1991; Milbrath (1999, 183; 2013, 127n53, 143n91); and V. Miller (1989, 291). 23. Patches of cross-hatching also sometimes serve in Maya paintings to represent the spots on a jaguar’s pelt, but the patches there are usually circular and contained within a black outline (Thompson 1970, 214). For example, the hieroglyph for bahlam (“jaguar”) takes the form of a jaguar’s head in profile with cross-hatched spots bounded by a black outline (Stone and Zender 2011, 195). 24. For pictures of the ear ornaments, see Rusek (2014, figs. 10–12); Proskouriakoff (1950, 58–59, figs. 20.6A–6C); and Schmidt et al. (1998, 558, cat. no. 159). 25. Other serpent heads carved in the round at Chichen Itza are often misidentified as feline as well. This was the case for Kubler (1982, 110), who, contra Seler (1960–1961, 5:359, 361, 365, figs. 231, 240) before him, mistakenly claimed that the large scrolls on the sides of the Venus Platform zoomorph’s mouth are characteristic of jaguars, not serpents. 26. The Santiago Ahuizotla vase was formerly in Seler’s collection.

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27. For additional examples of Teotihuacan vessels with an en face composite zoomorph that looks predominantly feline, see, for example, Conides (2018, fig.  636); Séjourné (1959, fig. V-84; 1966, fig. 47); Seler (1960–1961, 5:figs. 169a, 169b); and Winning (1987, 1:fig. 5b). A Teotihuacan mural in Room 12 of Zone 5A at Teotihuacan presents a rare example of a Teotihuacan zoomorph with an anthropomorphic head in its mouth or beak (Fuente 1995–1996, plate 32). The mural has been dated to the early–middle Xolalpan phase (AD 300–500) (S. Evans 2016, 65, 131). Nielsen and Helmke (2015) identify the bird with widespread Mesoamerican myths recounting the primordial defeat of a supernatural bird. 28. The Sub-Jaguar tomb is located in the East Court of Structure 10L-25 at Copan. A number of Classic vases from southern Veracruz sites such as Rio Blanco are also decorated with molded figures of an en face crouching creature that usually has clawed, powerful forelegs bent at the elbow, but because the Veracruz images are very abstract, it is difficult to determine the creatures’ species. Like the en face, predominantly feline creatures at Teotihuacan, they do not have an anthropomorphic head in their gaping jaws (Winning 1996, figs. 6.1, 6.2b, 6.3, 6.5d). 29. The original report of the Tikal bowl is in Coe 1990. Additional photographs of the bowl taken by Linda Schele can be accessed on the FAMSI website as Schele Photograph Collection nos.  76074–76076 (http://research.famsi.org/schele_photos _list .php ?rowstart = 900 & search = Tikal & display = 15 & title = Schele %20Photograph %20Collection&tab=schele_photos&sort=). I am grateful to Diane Biuno and Alessandro Pezzati of the Penn Museum in Philadelphia for providing me with unpublished photographs of the bowl taken from every angle. The theme of an en face bird with a human-like head in its beak graces the outer walls of the small Maya temple called Rosalila at Copan, which was erected sometime between AD 520 and AD 623 to memorialize K’inich Yax-K’uk-Mo’. It is his face that peers out of the bird’s beak (Agurcia Fasquell 2004, 102–103; B. Fash 2011; Taube 2004, 280). 30. Yax Nuun Ayiin I acceded to power in AD 379 and seems to have died in AD 404 (Martin and Grube 2008, 32–33). For more on his connections to Teotihuacan, see Rice (2019, 9) and Moholy-Nagy (2021). Although Yax Nuun Ayiin is identified on Tikal Stela 31 as the son of an intruder named Owl Striker (formerly Spearthrower Owl), who may have ruled Teotihuacan from AD 374 to AD 439, Wright (2005) notes a recent isotopic analysis of what may be his teeth that indicates he grew up in the Maya lowlands (Stuart 2000, 2019). 31. Coggins (1975, 175) identifies the reptilian zoomorph with Tlaloc’s head in its maw as a jaguar, which is surely not the case. Barnes (1997, 10, 13) translates Xipe Totec’s name as “Our Lord the Flayer” rather than “Our Lord the Flayed One,” as is commonly seen. I have used a more literal translation. The origin of Xipe Totec’s cult is

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unknown, but there is evidence of it at Teotihuacan (Barnes 1997; González González 2011, 25–43; Séjourné 1959, fig. 6). 32. For more information on, and pictures of, Cipactli, see chapter 11, this volume, and Beyer (1965, 10, fig.  11); Codex Fejérváry-Mayer (page 42); Codex Vaticanus B (pages 26, 69); McDavitt (2002); and Seler (1960–1961, 2:plate 734, fig. 24). The Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas says that the gods created the earth from “a great fish that is called Cipactli (cipaquacli), which is like a caiman” (in García Icazbalceta 1891, 230). 33. Excavators found in Burial 10 the complete skeleton of a crocodile as well as a jade fragment representing a crocodile’s head (Coggins 1975, 147, fig. 56). Thus, it may not be coincidental that Yax Nuun Ayiin’s name includes the word “crocodile” (Harrison 1999, 84). 34. A similarly composed early Classic Teotihuacan or Teotihuacan-style painted lid found at La Herradura, Tlaxcala, is decorated with two outward-facing, predominantly feline frontal faces placed on opposite sides of the top of the lid, both of which lack a human head in their jaw (Martínez Vargas and Jarquin Pacheco 1998, 46). Although a two-headed feline would be carved in the round, centuries later, at Uxmal, I know of none at Teotihuacan or in its environs. The La Herradura lid nonetheless suggests that the basic composition of the Tikal lid derived from Teotihuacan, although instead of alternating with the enigmatic, seemingly bloody objects on the Tikal lid, the feline heads on the La Herradura lid alternate with triads of bleeding hearts. That the feline heads on the La Herradura lid were intended to represent two different creatures, however, is suggested by the apparently architectural elements above their head, each of which contains a different interior design. 35. For more on the bicephalic dragon, see Looper (2003, 172–178, 187, 189); Martin (2015, 192–194); Maudslay (1889–1902, 1: plates 11–12, 43, 53, 114a); McDonald and Stross (2012, 75–76); and Milbrath (1999, 277–282). 36. Stuart suggests that the “Starry Deer Crocodile” represents the dark night sky of the underworld and the Milky Way. For a late Postclassic ceramic sculpture of a crocodilian with deer features, see Finamore and Houston (2010, 233, cat. no. 74). 37. Colonial Spanish references to caimans (Caiman crocodilus) in the northern lowlands are misleading, a result of Spanish use of the word “caiman” to refer to both caimans and crocodiles. There were no caimans in the northern lowlands, and modern sources are divided as to whether they existed in the Maya southern lowlands in ancient times (Anderson and Medina Tzuc 2005, 175; cf. Schlesinger 2001, 233). The confusion is abetted by Spanish sources that lump together crocodilians, lizards, and iguanas under the rubric lagartos (“lizards”). Caimans are found in a restricted area along the coast of Chiapas and Oaxaca (Alvárez and González 1987: 81).

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38. According to Scherer (2015, 107), some Maya envisioned the earth as a giant turtle, but Milbrath (personal communication, 2020) has not found any ethnographic evidence to support the Maya identifying the earth as a turtle, and she notes that Classic-period images depicting the maize god sprouting from a turtle may actually represent the relationship between the maize cycle and Orion, which was perceived as a turtle by the Maya (see Milbrath 1999, 266–268). 39. The famous mid-fifth-century Motmot Burial at Copán contained thirty-three crocodile teeth (N. Sugiyama et al. 2019, 415–416, table 1). 40. Among the crocodilians found in offerings at the Templo Mayor were some Mexican caimans (Caiman crocodilus) (Robles Cortés 2019, 25). 41. What most scholars take to be Tlalteuctli’s loincloth is actually the skull-buckled cloth panel that typically hangs from the back of her belt. Although no surviving Aztec creation myths say that Tlalteuctli was decapitated, the Histoyre du Mechique ( Jonghe 1905, 28–31) says that Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca tore her diagonally into two parts, one of which they carried to the heavens. Afterward the gods consoled what was left of her by ordering earth’s vegetation henceforth to grow from her body. This is why Tlalteuctli cried out at night for human hearts and blood and why, if Aztec warriors failed to feed her, she would withhold the vegetation they needed to survive. 42. Itzamnaaj’s name is spelled Itzamna in Spanish colonial documents. 43. Scholars such as Alfonso Arellano Hernández (2001, 203–204) have rejected Thompson’s (1970, 21, 214) argument that Itzamnaaj’s name translates as “Iguana house,” which Thompson based on an erroneous belief that itzam was a Maya name for the iguana (Barrera Vásquez 1980, 272; Taube 1989). Instead, Arellano Hernández points out, itzam designated a person who had or used itz, such as a shaman or one engaged in the magical arts. This would have been a role quite appropriate for Itzamnaaj, who was himself conceived of as a magician (Barerra Vásquez 1980, 272; Freidel et al. 1993, 410–412n19). 44. God D is recognizable in Maya imagery by the yax (“first/new-blue-green”) glyph and/or the ak’bal (ak’b’al) sign for darkness and night (Houston et al. 2009, 40–42; Stone and Zender 2011, 145). The ak’bal sign is thought to represent a stylized waterlily, the extracts of which are psychotropic (McDonald and Stross 2012, 98–100). When placed together, yax and ak’bal may therefore connote the mystical darkness that preceded the Creation. 45. The wristlets worn by the Composite Creature on the Venus Platform correspond to common forms of Classic Maya wrist ornaments illustrated in Proskouriakoff (1950, 71–78, fig. 27, nos. A3–A7). 46. As yet another visual example of Martin’s theosynthesis, the upper surface of Altar T at Copan depicts, in dorsal view and with outspread limbs, a fish-tailed crocodilian with human hands and the crossed-bands sign infixed in its eyes (Schele 80

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drawings 01.0019-aa.01.0021, at http://ancientamericas.org/collection/search-results/ Copan%20Altar%20T). 47. A late Preclassic image of a crocodile with the shell on its snout appears on Stela 25 at the Pacific coastal site of Izapa (Guernsey 2006, fig. 3.17). 48. In one colonial source itzam is said to refer to a whale (Barrera Vásquez 1980, 272). 49. Like the zoomorphic skyband on Codex Paris 22, the creature on Codex Dresden 74 appears to be more serpentine than crocodilian. Its visible foreleg ends in the deer’s hoof that relates it to the “Starry Deer Crocodile.” Milbrath (1999, 275–282, fig. 7.4d), Knowlton (2003), and Carlson (2015) all express doubts that the Dresden 74 image refers to the primordial deluge. Because streams of water also descend from two eclipse glyphs attached to the creature’s underside, Knowlton ties the image to the Maya practice of recording eclipses that were likely to occur only during the rainy season. Carlson, in turn, argues that it represents the nourishment of the earth by the heavy rains that tend to occur at the beginning of the rainy season. McDonald and Stross’s (2012, 98–99) suggestion that the material pouring from the dragon’s mouth is itz (“dew”) and Bassie’s (2002, 35) identification of the liquid as virgin water work equally well with this interpretation. Milbrath (1999, 275–285, figs.  7.4d, 7.6) relates this celestial dew to the Milky Way, proposing that the crocodilian “front end” of the Bicephalic Dragon embodies the rainy season side of the Milky Way. She has also suggested that the Bicephalic Dragon represented the Milky Way, its skyband body the intersection of the Milky Way with the ecliptic. That the dragon probably represents the Milky Way was reiterated by Stuart (2003; 2005, 72), although Velásquez García (2002, 425–442) rejects the possibility, contending instead that it stood only for the ecliptic. 50. For analysis of Classic Maya monuments that depict a newly installed ruler taking credit for the demise of the earth crocodile, see García Barrios (2015). 51. Hopkins and Josserand (2018, 18) note that Maya h-men (“shamans”) in Yucatan today begin their ch’a chaak (rain) ceremony by bending two branches, each anchored at an opposite corner, so that they intersect over the center of the altar, thereby dividing it into quadrants (see also Bassie-Sweet and Hopkins 2018, 51–52). Among the K’iche’ k’at (crossed-bands in Yucatec) refers to a “large net for maize” (Lamb, cited by Rice 2007, 66). 52. A stone container from early Classic Copan depicts an inverted crocodile whose tail, in this case, is a cacao tree (Martin 2006, fig. 8.8a). The belief in a “crocodile tree” dates back to the late Preclassic; Stela 25 at Izapa, for example, depicts the upper part of a tree morphing at its base into the downturned head, shoulders, and forelegs of a crocodile with a yax shell on its snout (Guernsey 2006, fig. 3.17). The concept survived into the late Postclassic, when the painters of the Mexican Codex Laud, page

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11, depicted a flowering tree that grows from the back end of a crocodile with a forked tongue and two beaded tubes in its nostrils. The notion of a crocodile-tree is not as farfetched as it may seem, for juvenile American crocodiles near Tulum, located east of Chichen Itza in Quintana Roo, have been observed climbing and basking in mangrove trees (Dinets et al. 2014, 3, 5). 53. The Maya logograph for “sky” (chan), according to Stone and Zender (2011, 60), consists of a cartouche containing a “wing-like element that is infixed with tiny seeds” and thus resembles the wings of the bird representing Itzamnaaj. The crossedbands sign seems to have originated in the late Preclassic, for large birds with human body parts and crossed-bands signs on their wings appear on Stelae 2 and 4 at Izapa (Guernsey 2006, figs. 3.10, 3.11). 54. Houston and colleagues (2006, 236) had earlier proposed the name Muut Itzamnaaj, “Bird Itzamnaaj.” Thurber and Thurber (1959) suggest that the kokaaj in Itzam Kokaaj Mut’s name translates as “firefly/star.” According to Boot (2008, 34), the bird’s full name would therefore be “Itzam Firefly/Star Bird.” Nielsen and Helmke (2015, 4) identify the en face raptor in the Zone 5A mural at Teotihuacan as Yax Kokaaj Muut. 55. A famous example of the Itzamnaaj raptor perched on a tree appears on the lid of K’inch Janaab Pakal I’s sarcophagus in the seventh-century Temple of the Inscriptions at Palenque. Formerly identified as the deceased ruler at the base of the world tree, rising up from the underworld into the night sky (Milbrath 1999, 273), this figure more recently has been reinterpreted as the young maize god reborn, rising from the underworld (D. Stuart and G. Stuart 2008, 174–177). 56. Four cosmic trees, each mounted by a large bird, also appear in a partially destroyed mural painted during the second or first century BC on the west wall of a small building known as Las Pinturas, Sub-1, at San Bartolo, Guatemala (Taube et al. 2010). The scene also includes a man seated on a scaffold who is being handed the headdress that presumably symbolizes his imminent accession to rule. 57. In some cases Itzamnaaj’s avian persona appears to be one and the same as the supernatural bird known today as the Principal Bird Deity, or PBD for short. Scholars often identify the PBD as the vainglorious macaw mentioned in the Popol Vuh, whose false pretensions were dashed by the so-called Hero Twins (Bardawil 1976; Christenson 2007; Cortez 1986). Although some of these bird figures in Classic Maya imagery do appear to be macaws, the majority instead represent Itzamnaaj as a raptor (Hellmuth 1987, 166, 196, 260–261, 365). 58. The text accompanying K2027 states that “it has been suggested that [the four composite figures] may be four manifestations of Itzamna.” Itzamnaaj is known to have had a fourfold nature (Thompson 1970, 212–214).

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

59. Grofe (2007, 41) agrees with Hellmuth that the zoomorphic components of the Kimbell Art Museum vase are those of a waterbird, despite his observation that its neck, face, and markings are clearly those of a snake. 60. Taube (1992b, 59–60) also links God D and Quetzalcoatl to the Maya God H, and Milbrath (1999, 178, 188) ties him to Venus and, possibly, Quetzalcoatl as well. 61. At least five of the bench relief figures in the Great Ball Court (2D9) seem to be wearing a tri-stepped nose ornament, but because they are depicted in profile and have sustained damage, it is difficult to be certain. Equally ambiguous is the nose ornament on a figure on Disk E, an embossed gold plaque or mirror back found in the Sacred Cenote (Lothrop 1952, 48, figs. 19, 33). In all of these cases, the wearers are male. 62. All of the manuscripts in which the stepped nose ornament appears are late Postclassic, but many, especially the Mixtec historical manuscripts, are thought to be copies of much older, early Postclassic manuscripts (Elizabeth Boone, personal communication, 2019). 63. The goddesses who appear in Postclassic Mexican imagery wearing the stepped nose ornament are Chicomecoatl, goddess of mature maize; Xilonen, the younger, tender maize; Mayahuel, embodiment of the edible maguey plant from which the Aztecs also derived pulque; the pulque goddess Atlacoaya; Tlazolteotl, also known as Ixcuina, or Lady Cotton; Chantico, who was in charge of the Capsicum pepper or chili plant; Chalchiuhtlicue, who presided over the groundwater feeding the irrigation canals that watered the fields; and Xochiquetzal, goddess of flowers, the symbol of plant fructification in general (Klein 2019). Xochipilli is Xochiquetzal’s male counterpart. 64. The lovely cotinga (Cotinga amabilis), or Xiuhtototl in Nahuatl, is, like the resplendent quetzal, a bird whose feathers—in this case blue and purple—were regarded as supremely beautiful and thus greatly treasured (Bierhorst 1985, 417, 419). The lovely cotinga’s ancestral home, sometimes referred to as Cotinga House or Cotinga Spring, like Xochiquetzal and Xochipilli’s home, was in Tamoanchan. According to an Aztec song, it was located near “the flowering tree [that] stands blossoming at Origin, God’s home, the place of tassel plumes” (Bierhorst 1985, 135, 187, 195, 417). 65. Every eight years the Aztecs held a special festival called Atamalqualiztli (“Eating of the Water Tamales”) that not only honored the “torment” they had inflicted on tonacoyotl (“human sustenance”) during the past eight years but also engaged in rites that hopefully would revive it (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:177–178). See Milbrath (2013, 30, 36, 52, 95, 143nn90–91) on the Atamalqualiztli festival and the Venus cycle. One has to wonder whether this relates to the correlation of eight solar years and five Venus cycles referenced on the Venus Platform (Klein 2019). 66. On the drought that afflicted the Maya in the ninth and tenth centuries, see especially Cobos et al. (2014); Dahlin (2002); N. Evans et al. (2018); Folan et al. (1983); Hodell et al. (1995); Hodell et al. (2005); and Price et al. (2019).

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4 Pumas and Eagles and Wolves, Oh My! The Appropriation and Alteration of Teotihuacan Processing Predators at Tula

Keith Jordan

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In her contribution to this volume, Cecelia Klein continues her decades-long tradition of papers inviting us to look at seemingly familiar Mesoamerican monuments and images with fresh eyes, providing a new reading of the “Composite Creature” or “man-bird-serpent” as depicted in the reliefs of the Venus Platform at Chichen Itza. Inspired by her questioning approach, in this chapter I attempt to revisit and reevaluate another set of early Postclassic animal images from Chichen’s “sister city” or “twin Tollan” in central Mexico, Tula, the predatory animals frieze of Pyramid B. In this brief contribution I situate these frequently reproduced but usually superficially discussed works in their context, not only their place in the art and ideology of Tula but in the broader history of Precolumbian art traditions in the central Mexican highlands. After the Pyramid B atlantid columns and the Palacio Quemado chacmool, the frieze reliefs of processing predators adorning the exterior of Pyramid B (figure 4.1) are among the most iconic examples of the early Postclassic sculpture of Tula. They march in facsimile across the plates and figures of numerous textbooks and surveys of Mesoamerican art and archaeology, usually accompanied by a caption or brief discussion in the accompanying text underlining their significance as markers of a purported obsession with human sacrifice and warfare at Tula in contrast to previous prehispanic Mexican civilizations. Frequently, words like

https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c004

Figure 4.1. Section of the Pyramid B predators frieze, Tula. Photograph by HJPD, reproduced from Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Tula _Pyramide_reliefs.jpg.

“sanguinary,” “militarism,” and “harsh” are liberally sprinkled through such descriptions, and the writer’s focus, like the animals themselves, soon processes on to something else. These Pyramid B reliefs are the formal and conceptual descendants of similar imagery in the art of Classic Teotihuacan and appear to be conscious allusions to the heritage and legacy of that great city. They cannot be understood without consideration of these antecedents, and recent archaeological discoveries at Teotihuacan have added new wrinkles to the historical trajectory of this animal iconography from Teotihuacan to Tula. Previously suggested Teotihuacan parallels to the Pyramid B animal reliefs were confined to mural paintings in mostly interior settings—different in medium and architectural context. However, it now appears that processions of jaguars were already being rendered in stone relief to decorate the adosada of the Pyramid of the Sun in the fourth century CE. I attempt in what follows to reinterpret the Pyramid B frieze in light of these discoveries as well as in the overall framework of Tula’s appropriation of Teotihuacan art and in the context of Pyramid B’s sculptural program and the structure’s probable function.

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PART I

The frieze reliefs of Pyramid B showing marching carnivorous mammals and raptorial birds, some devouring human hearts or carrying these extracted organs around their necks, were excavated in 1942 and restored to their present arrangement by Jorge Acosta (1942–1944). They are dated by Alba Guadalupe Mastache, Robert Cobean, and Dan Healan (2002, 96) and the majority of archaeologists and art historians to the last and/ or penultimate construction stage of Pyramid B late in the Tollan phase (950–1150 CE), the period of Tula’s early Postclassic florescence. A controversial demurring opinion has been expressed by Oswaldo Sterpone (2007, 18, 26–27, 38–39), who places the currently visible bulk of Pyramid B (which he interprets as the structure’s original pre-Tollan phase core) and its associated carvings in the Early Epiclassic, ca. 700–750 CE. Sterpone’s claims, based on his interpretation of architectural stratigraphy and radiocarbon dates from Tula Grande and his proposal of an additional phase for Tula’s chronology, have been convincingly rebutted by Healan (2012, 84–85) and Cobean (see Smith 2007, 583–584). However, it is nonetheless clear that the animal iconography reflected in the Tollan phase Pyramid B frieze predates the early Postclassic at Tula. Fragmentary reliefs of a jaguar ( Jiménez García 2010, 103, drawing 11) (figure 4.2a) and an eagle ( Jiménez García 2010, 98, drawing 6) (figure 4.2b), in a style clearly antecedent to that of the Tollan phase, were excavated from the Epiclassic civic-ceremonial center of Tula Chico. Not only do these earlier sculptures reflect both formal and iconographic continuity with those of Tula Grande, they also represent at present the earliest dated examples of the “Toltec” themes and style shared by Tula and Chichen Itza. These include the imagery of parading predators, which appears at Chichen Itza on the Tzompantli and Platform of the Eagles (jaguars and eagles eating hearts) and in three bands of relief on the Temple of the Warriors. In the latter case (Tozzer 1957, fig. 431), reclining ancestor figures accompany the carnivores. Such reclining human figures also appear in the Epiclassic art of Tula Chico. As I argued in a previous paper ( Jordan 2016a), the Tula Chico discoveries indicate that this suite of associated images as rendered in the distinctive “Toltec” style originated at Tula and was appropriated from Central Mexico by the Maya rulers of Chichen Itza.1 The precise zoological identifications of the predators portrayed in the Pyramid B reliefs remain a topic of dispute. This is unsurprising given that they are executed in a relatively nonnaturalistic style and cannot be read in the same fashion as the illustrations in a modern biology textbook. All 106

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Figure 4.2a. Fragmentary relief of jaguar, Tula Chico. Drawing by Adam Scot Hofman after Jiménez García (2010, 103:drawing 11).

Figure 4.2b. Eagle relief, Tula Chico. Drawing by Adam Scot Hofman after Jiménez García (2010, 98:drawing 6).

commentators agree that the mammals portrayed in the reliefs include both felids (Fuente et al. 1988, 141–142, cat. no. 97; Jiménez García 2010, 78, photo 58) and canids (e.g., Fuente et al. 1988, 141, cat. nos. 96 and 96a; Jiménez García 2010, 77, photo 57) (figure 4.3a), but because of stylization it is sometimes difficult to tell which is which. Elizabeth Jiménez García (1998, 274) attempts to divide the cats or felines from the canines by details of their morphology: the “coyotes” have hairier tails and more elongated snouts than the felines, while the cats possess larger claws than the canids. Even within putative portrayals of the same species, however, there is a considerable range in body size. Some appear particularly well nourished by their presumed diet of hearts, while others are relatively slender. Coyotes are the most commonly suggested candidates for the real-life referents of the canid reliefs. However, one zoologist, Oscar Polaco, identified them as grey wolves (Canis lupus) (Mastache et al. 2002, 148n2) based on their relative scale. While the felines are often referred to as jaguars, he suggests that they are pumas (Puma concolor) based on anatomical details. Both big cats inhabited central and southern Mexico at the time of European contact. The jaguar was strongly associated with political and ritual power in Mesoamerican art since the early Formative. Given the aforementioned difficulties inherent in assigning these images to specific zoological taxa, all such identifications should be regarded as provisional at best. As reconstructed by Acosta, the mammals march in file, alternating between examples with raised tails and images showing the tail P U M A S A N D E AG LES A N D WO LV ES, O H M Y !

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Figure 4.3a. Detail of Pyramid B frieze with canid (left) and feline (right). Photo by HJPD, reproduced from Wikimedia Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki /File:TulaB01.jpg). Figure 4.3b. Detail of Pyramid B frieze with eagles. Photo by HJDP, reproduced from Wikimedia Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Coatepantli _(Tollan Xicocotitlan)#/media/File:TulaB02.jpg). Figure 4.3c. Detail of Pyramid B frieze showing vulture. Photo by Ajejandro Linares García reproduced from Wikimedia Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki /Category:Coatepantli_(Tollan-Xicocotitlan)#/media/File:TulaSite71.JPG).

lowered. Review of the published literature about and direct observation of animal behavior might shed some light on the significance of these tail positions and provide a further clue as to the meaning of these sculptures. Any resultant hypotheses, though, are subject to the same uncertainty and qualifications as species identification. The rows of avian raptors have attracted less debate on their species identification. The depictions of eagles (e.g., Fuente et al. 1988, 138, cat. no 92, 139–140, cat. no.  94; Jiménez García 2010, 76, photo 56) (figure 4.3b) can be distinguished readily from images of vultures (Fuente et al. 1988, 140, cat. nos. 95 and 95a; Jiménez García 2010, 75, photo 55) (figure 4.3c). The majority of interpretations of these frieze reliefs from the time of their discovery onward, like those of Tula’s art in general, have focused on their obvious allusions to war and sacrifice, with little further elaboration of their significance beyond visual threats and intimidation, scare tactics in stone (hence the title of this chapter), and proclamations of the military might of the Tula polity (e.g., Jones 1995, 333). Like other superficial and stereotypical readings of the Tula art tradition, these suggestions leave much unexplained about the meaning and function of these reliefs in their specific context. That the predatory (and scavenging) habits of the fauna portrayed are related to warfare and that the bloody hearts and blood flows some carry in their jaws or beaks or as pendants represent heart sacrifice is clear. However, martial activities and sacrificial ritual practices are portrayed with varying frequency and degrees of explicitness in the art of all Precolumbian Mesoamerican civilizations from the Formative to the Spanish conquest. Recognizing the general theme of the Pyramid B frieze still leaves open a host of questions: Why do these reliefs decorate this particular edifice in Tula Grande, the political and ritual core of the city? How do they relate to the rest of Pyramid B’s sculptural program? Cynthia Kristan-Graham (e.g., 1989, 101–349; 2015, 98) and Mastache, Cobean, and Healan (2002, 104–106, 136) have convincingly identified the main theme of the other major relief decorations of Pyramid B, those on the sides of the pillars of the temple on the platform’s summit, as rulership. The kings of Tula on these carved architectural supports carry weapons, reflecting one of the aspects and responsibilities of their office. However, these images also reflect concerns with accession rites, dynastic succession, and legitimation in general. How do the reliefs decorating the pyramid platform conceptually connect with those in the temple? What do marching, munching mammals and hungry raptors have to do with governance? If they are really all about gore and glory, intimidating subjects, vassals, and enemies and nothing more, why P U M A S A N D E AG LES A N D WO LV ES, O H M Y !

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are the acts of sacrifice and military activity portrayed so indirectly, using animals instead of human figures? Why do they lack the narrative qualities and explicit violence associated with Tula’s contemporaries like Chichen Itza and El Tajin and precursors like the Classic Maya and, closer to home, Cacaxtla? What earlier sources did the lords of Tula (and their artists) draw upon in the style and content of the Pyramid B frieze, and how did such visual quotations reflect the ideological agendas of the site’s ruling class? What social roles or specific ritual and political activities might be represented by these animal images?

PART II

In a previous paper on the broader topic of human sacrifice at Tula ( Jordan 2016b), presented at the 2016 annual meeting of the Society for American Archaeology, I reviewed the sparse literature on the Pyramid B frieze and noted that several previous commentators convincingly derive this march of the carnivores from similar images in the mural painting of Teotihuacan (e.g., Cobean et al. 2012, 39). Such borrowing from Tula’s Classic predecessor as Central Mexico’s premier Tollan is consistent with many other allusions to Teotihuacan’s art and architecture in the plan and decoration of Tula Grande. These include the positions and relative proportions of the two main pyramids at Tula Grande. The larger Pyramid C faces west on the east side of the plaza, and the smaller Pyramid B faces south on the north edge, echoing the positions of the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, respectively, at Teotihuacan (Mastache et al. 2002, 92) (figure 4.4a–b). The orientation of both Teotihuacan and Tula Grande on an axis deviating 17 degrees from true north evidences the specificity of the later center’s “quotations” in stone of the earlier. Compositions of processing figures, human as well as animal, talud-tablero platform profiles, relief-decorated square pillars, and the Teotihuacan War Serpent, a Classic precursor of the later Mexica xiuhcoatl, depicted crouching in the Pyramid B frieze alongside the files of carnivores (Taube 2000, 286) expand but do not exhaust the list of Teotihuacan references at early Postclassic Tula’s sacred core. As Cynthia Kristan-Graham (1999, 174) puts it, “The memory of Teotihuacan resonates at Tula.” That the plan and orientation of Tula Grande represents a deliberate shift of orientation from that of Tula Chico (figure 4.4c), following the latter’s destruction and abandonment, suggests a clear Teotihuacan archaism or revival in the early Postclassic. However, the presence of Teotihuacan Venus signs in the iconography of the sculpture of Tula Chico ( Jiménez García 2010, 86, photo 110

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Figure 4.4a. Plan of Teotihuacan. Adapted from Rene Millon, “Teotihuacán,” Scientific American, June 1967, and reproduced from Wikimedia Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Teotihucan_layout.gif ).

Figure 4.4b. Plan of Tula Grande. From Mastache et al. (2002, fig. 5.8b), reproduced by permission of Dan Healan.

Figure 4.4c. Topographic map of Tula Chico. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Arq. Jesús Acevedo García in Mastache et al. (2009, 312, fig. 19).

66) points to cultural continuity from Teotihuacan to Tula, perhaps via the nearby Teotihuacan outpost or colony of Chingu (Kristan-Graham 2015, 95). Mastache, Cobean, Healan, and Jiménez García (Mastache et al. 2002, 141; Cobean et al. 2012, 109, 179) have pointed out the specific visual parallels between the Pyramid B frieze reliefs and the painted processions of animals adorning the White Patio of the Atetelco apartment complex at Teotihuacan (figure 4.5). There are also strong similarities to the repetitive carnivore images from other housing compounds at Teotihuacan: the (albeit frontal) raptors with hearts in their mouths at Tetitla (Miller 1976, 138–139, figs. 281–283, 285), the canids (Miller 1976, 139, fig.  284) and the feline with triple blood flow symbol in its mouth (Miller 1976, 141, fig. 289) from the same complex, and the processing coyotes with sacrificial knives from Techinantitla (Berrin 1988, 210–211, fig. 6.27, plate 37). The iconography of these murals is reflected more literally and concretely at Teotihuacan in the deposits of sacrificed predators, including eagles, wolves, and pumas, among the offerings buried in the Pyramid of the Moon (López Luján and Sugiyama 2017; N. Sugiyama 2017), a point to which I will return later. P U M A S A N D E AG LES A N D WO LV ES, O H M Y !

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Figure 4.5. Processing net jaguar and coyote from the White Patio, Atetelco, Teotihuacan. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Headrick (2007, 81:fig. 4.11b) (https://commons.wikimedia .org/wiki/File:Atetelco_Jaguars_1.jpg).

Annabeth Headrick (2007, 80–93), based both on analysis of other Teotihuacan imagery and on Aztec comparisons, identified the processing canines and net jaguars of Atetelco as members of elite military orders similar to the later Mexica eagle and jaguar warriors.2 In her interpretation the substitution of animals for humans in the depictions of these high-status soldier sodalities reflects both the ideology and the resultant subjective experience of their ability to transform into animal alter egos through rituals of sacrifice (Headrick 2007, 75–83). She reads what appears to be the sacrifice of birds (perhaps themselves representing warriors) in the Atetelco paintings as a rite enabling the bird warriors to metamorphose into their avian naguals (Headrick 2007, 82). In Headrick’s view, the murals and architectural plan of the White Patio symbolically represent a system of shared governance at Teotihuacan among an individual ruler (whose image she identifies in the paintings of the largest of the three buildings in the White Patio) and bird and jaguar warrior orders represented in complementary opposition on the paintings of the two porticos. The painted program in the White Patio thus portrays the power of the ruler supported by the two elite military groups. Richard Diehl (1983, 63) similarly, though briefly and without elaboration, identified the predatory animals on the Pyramid B reliefs at Tula as symbols of elite military groups. That such orders were present at Tula seems supported by the image of a warrior in a canid helmet akin to those of his probable Mexica successors, the coyote “knights,” on the famed shell mosaic-decorated plumbate vessel from El Corral now in the Museo Nacional de Antropología e Historia ( Jiménez García 1998, 487, fig. 193). Building on Headrick’s reading

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of the Atetelco White Patio, I pointed to the similar juxtaposition of warrior orders with royalty at Pyramid B represented by the combination of the animals in the platform decoration with the rulers in the column reliefs above, the former (literally) supporting the latter. However, this raises the question: if the Pyramid B frieze visually evokes the heritage of Teotihuacan and represents similar political arrangements to those symbolized in the Atetelco and other apartment murals, why did the Tula artists change the medium, location, and accessibility of the “borrowed” images? Apart from the “Gran Puma” painted on the exterior of a platform on the east side of the Avenue of the Dead near the Sun Palace (Miller 1976, 69, fig. 86; Fuente 2001, 84, plate 1; Angulo V. 2001, 94; Cowgill 2015, 205; Robb 2017, 159, fig. 22.1), which Matthew Robb notes (2017, 161) is an exception to the general pattern, all the extant predator murals at Teotihuacan are situated in the relatively private spaces of elite residential compounds. Why was imagery originally expressed in painting later depicted in relief on the exterior of a public royal structure at the political and ritual core of Tula? To address this question, I drew on a paper by Cynthia Kristan-Graham where she suggested (2015, 101–105) that the public architecture of Tula Grande displays allusions to houses as symbols of the multiple elite lineages probably involved in the governance of the Tula polity and the multiple ethnicities comprising the city’s population. If this was the case, I argued, then the transfer of images more frequently deployed in private, domestic contexts at Teotihuacan to a more public area (and a more permanent medium—stone) at Tula might reflect this strategy of using monumental constructions at Tula Grande to symbolize domestic spaces linked to specific ruling groups. I raised the possibility that the animals on the Pyramid B frieze reliefs might also represent lineages of real or fictive Teotihuacan descent at Tula as well as elite warrior orders of Teotihuacan origin.3 Such an interpretation might be consistent with their placement alongside the reliefs of composite creatures identified by Karl Taube (2000, 286) as Teotihuacan War Serpents (though see Cecelia Klein’s chapter in this volume for alternative readings) (figure 4.6). From their open maws emerge apparent ancestors ( Jordan 2013, 249), in a fashion analogous to the related Classic Maya “Vision Serpents” (Schele and Mathews 1998, 48–49). While the faces framed by the War Serpents’ jaws on Pyramid B sport Teotihuacan-style butterfly nose ornaments, those depicted on similar reliefs from Building J on the east side of the Tula Grande plaza lack this attribute. The butterfly ornament, associated at Teotihuacan with apotheosized dead warriors (Headrick 2007, 125–145), may in the Pyramid B reliefs indicate the social roles of the ancestors in life or their status as P U M A S A N D E AG LES A N D WO LV ES, O H M Y !

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Figure 4.6. Composite creature with figure with Teotihuacan nose ornament emerging from its maw, Pyramid B. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Jiménez García (2010, 74:photo 54).

denizens of the solar paradise reserved for the slain and the sacrificed (Taube 2006). However, it is also possible that at Tula it specifically marks ancestral warriors of Teotihuacan descent (Taube 2000, 286). Why processing animal imagery from Teotihuacan, largely ignored by Tula’s Epiclassic predecessors in Central Mexico like Cacaxtla and Xochicalco, was revived at Tula remains an enigma. So does the reason for Tula artists’ (and patrons’) preference for indirect, nonnarrative references to war and sacrifice derived from Teotihuacan when far more explicit representations were available to them as potential models from precursors like Cacaxtla and the Classic Maya and contemporaries like Chichen Itza and El Tajin.

PART III

In retrospect, one parallel I missed in my 2016 SAA paper was another possible Teotihuacan antecedent or analog to the depictions of symbols of warrior orders on the Pyramid B frieze, this one concealed rather than public and much more literal. Pyramid B, as already noted, occupies a place on the north side of Tula Grande’s plaza analogous to that of the Pyramid of the Moon at the northern end of the Street of the Dead. Given this apparent architectural “quotation,” it may be significant that while Pyramid B’s exterior is decorated with images of animals associated with military orders, its counterpart in the plan of Teotihuacan contained ritually slaughtered examples of the real thing as part of buried offerings. For example, the sacrificial 116

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cache dubbed Tomb 2, buried in the fourth stage of construction at the Pyramid of the Moon, held the remains of two pumas, one wolf, and nine eagles, alongside a human, three rattlesnakes, and fragments of other species (Cowgill 2015, 83). Cobean, Jiménez García, and Mastache (2012, 109), who first noted the parallel in species in the Moon Pyramid offerings and those depicted on the Pyramid B frieze, suggest that this may be the result of both structures being dedicated to similar cults. I would go further and ask: Do we have in the animal reliefs of Pyramid B another deliberate and specific allusion to and emulation of the Pyramid of the Moon, in this instance in its associations with warrior orders? George Cowgill (2015, 89) pointed out the association of the felines, canids, and raptors interred in the Pyramid of the Moon with the warrior orders symbolized by the murals depicting animals from the apartments of Teotihuacan. Headrick (2007, 88–89) went further and suggested that the sacrificed animals in the Moon Pyramid directly represented these elite troops. In her words, “as stand-ins for the different groups, the animals function as substitutes for the warriors themselves, and the act of placing their mascots in the central pyramid highlights the prominent position the orders held in Teotihuacan society.” The same author (2007, 101) proposed that the processions of predators in Teotihuacan art may represent the performance of rituals by elite martial orders, while the sacrificial deposits in the Pyramid of the Moon “reveal that civic rituals were designed to incorporate the various military groups.” Perhaps the Pyramid B façade reliefs similarly incorporated (by artistic representations) the military orders into the ritual practices and political processes at Pyramid B in an analogous fashion to the sacrificed animals at the Moon Pyramid and served as guides for ritual action as well. Again, what is private, buried, or placed in interiors at Teotihuacan seems to have been turned inside out to become very public at Tula for political and ideological reasons that are unclear. And might the sacrificed predators at Teotihuacan and the carved carnivores at Tula both represent lineages as well as sodalities? Leonardo López Luján and Saburo Sugiyama (2017, 87) suggest, for example, that the sacrificed eagle and pumas associated with the triple burial of three elite persons in Burial 5 at the Pyramid of the Moon at Teotihuacan might represent “appellatives for their lineage, political, military, or religious affiliations.” In addition, a more recently published discovery at Teotihuacan complicates the sequence I originally proposed from painted, interior, relatively private images of predators emblematic of warrior groups at Teotihuacan to public, stone relief images of the same at Tula. It now appears that the beginnings of P U M A S A N D E AG LES A N D WO LV ES, O H M Y !

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this change in medium and accessibility happened at Teotihuacan itself. On the basis of their excavations of the adosada attached to the Pyramid of the Sun, Alejandro Sarabia González and Nelly Zoe Nuñez Rendón (2017a, 66–67, fig. 7.6) suggest that the fourth stage (ca. 300–400 CE) of this platform was decorated with sculptured “processions of felines eating human hearts” (figure 4.7a).4 Their hypothetical reconstruction of one of these friezes, based on fragments of relief found in situ on the third tier of the adosada, shows predatory cats with their bodies rendered in profile like the Pyramid B examples (albeit in characteristic Teotihuacan style and decidedly plumper in appearance than some of the latter), but with frontal faces in high relief crowned with plumed headdresses (figure 4.7a). The stylized hearts, depicted in an abstract crosssection view characteristic of Teotihuacan iconography, are connected to the open maws of the felines by long extended tongues painted red and yellow (Sarabia González and Nuñez Rendón 2017b, 288). As the authors note, this frieze “anticipates the similar processions seen at Tula-Hidalgo and Chichen Itza in the Early Postclassic phase” and “may have provided a model” for these later works (2017a, 67).5 The absence of raptors and coyotes/wolves in the decoration of the Sun Pyramid adosada, if not the result of incomplete survival of the architectural sculpture, distinguishes it from the more variegated menagerie of the Pyramid B reliefs. Nonetheless, the resemblance and apparent precedent is still clear. Perhaps this exclusive focus on felines at the Sun Pyramid in contrast to the range of fauna depicted in the Teotihuacan murals may reflect the political prominence or greater ritual participation of one order over the others at this monument and/or at this moment in Teotihuacan’s history. Given the fragmentary and incomplete state of the remains of architectural sculpture at Teotihuacan, it is impossible to maintain definitively that feline and other predator images did not exist earlier or on other monuments like the Moon Pyramid. However, in the absence of such evidence (not necessarily evidence of absence!), any reconstruction or interpretation must make use of the materials that have survived, as long as it is clear that such suggestions are provisional and liable to revision or rejection in light of future archaeological discoveries. What follows is necessarily uncertain because of the gaps in the archaeological record of Teotihuacan (and Tula), but perhaps better than the alternative of silence. The architectural sculptural context of these Teotihuacan sculptures differs from those of Pyramid B, where the overall iconography of the sculptural program refers to royalty and governance, explicitly so in the column reliefs. Direct portrayals of royalty are as elusive at the Pyramid of the Sun as they are elsewhere at Teotihuacan. Nothing like the various candidates mooted 118

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Figure 4.7a. Reconstruction of feline procession from the Pyramid of the Sun adosada. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Sarabia González and Nuñez Rendón (2017a, 67:fig. 7.6). Figure 4.7b. Fire drill relief, Pyramid of the Sun. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Sarabia González and Nuñez Rendón (2017c, 290).

for ruler portraits in the Teotihuacan art tradition, like the image in the Atetelco White Patio mural identified as the king by Headrick (2007, 31, fig. 2.8), the relief from the West Plaza Complex (Headrick 2007, 32, fig. 2.10), the repeated frontal figure in the murals of Tetitla (Headrick 2007, fig. 2.11), and the unfinished Coatlinchan colossus (Cowgill 2015, 192–193; Headrick 2007, 39–41), has turned up to date in the vicinity of the Sun Pyramid. With the likely exception of the Coatlinchan sculpture, all of these were intended for interior spaces. The absence of explicit depictions of royalty at the Sun Pyramid could be due to a traditional reluctance to show kings in public art at Teotihuacan or to the hypothesized political changes, de-emphasizing individual rulers and favoring the participation of other elites in governance, following the destruction of the Temple of the Feathered Serpent around

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250–300 (e.g., Cowgill 2015, 193; 2017, 24). Perhaps, as Patricia Sarro and Matthew Robb (2015, 37) propose, royal images were not deemed necessary in Teotihuacan’s public monuments because the king’s actual physical presence during the performance of ceremonies rendered artistic representations redundant. Either way, the felines on parade of the Pyramid of the Sun adosada differ from the processing predators of Pyramid B in the lack of accompanying royal figures. Was the integration of military orders into the governing apparatus alongside and subordinate to royalty emphasized to a greater degree at Tula by their symbolic inclusion in the public façade of a monument explicitly dedicated to rulership? Do the processing predators of Pyramid B represent a more specific analogy in function or symbolism with the Pyramid of the Sun adosada, in addition to Pyramid B’s clear and deliberate parallels with the Moon Pyramid? The building more obviously corresponding to the Pyramid of the Sun in placement and scale at Tula, Pyramid C, was unfortunately completely denuded of its sculptural decoration by the Mexica, so comparisons there are impossible, but do Pyramid B and the Sun Pyramid adosada share any additional function or significance beyond both sporting reliefs of predatory felines? Cowgill (2015, 119) suggests a dual dedication to the sun and the Storm God for the Sun Pyramid. While solar imagery is not reflected in the extant corpus of reliefs from Pyramid B, Tlaloc (or a royal impersonator of this divinity), the Postclassic descendant of the Teotihuacan Storm God, is depicted in one of the pillar reliefs. Mastache and associates have suggested that this deity was the patron of rulers at Tula to the extent that the king may have been viewed as an incarnation of the god (Mastache et al. 2002, 104, 125, 142). Of greater relevance, William Fash, Alexandre Tokovonine, and Barbara Fash (2009) suggest, based on sculptural fragments from the plaza in front of the Pyramid of the Sun adosada showing bundled sticks and fire drilling (see Jesper Nielsen and Christophe Helmke 2018, 83, fig. 4.5) (figure 4.7b), that the pyramid and its added platform were used as the site (the “fire-house”) for a Teotihuacan version of the New Fire ceremony. Furthermore, they propose that in this function the Pyramid of the Sun was sufficiently renowned throughout Classic Mesoamerica to merit mention in Maya inscriptions at Copan. Nielsen and Helmke (2018, 82–83) support this interpretation and associate the New Fire at Teotihuacan with the inauguration of rulers, part of the city’s apparent role as a sacred center bestowing authority on and legitimating the accession of kings from other polities. The Sun Pyramid and its adosada thus “played center stage in much 120

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of Teotihuacan’s ritual and political life, and . . . dynasties, even in distant parts of Mesoamerica, actively sought to demonstrate a connection to this structure and the power and status associated with it.” Pyramid B was also apparently used for royal rites of accession. Its sculptural themes of continuity and succession in royal office are associated with the renewal of time by the Cipactli glyph above the heads of the kings on the column reliefs (figure 4.8). Perhaps the frieze of Pyramid B also references the memory and/or the function of the Pyramid of the Sun adosada as site of the renewal of time and place of king making.

PART IV

By combining a frieze of Teotihuacan derivation representing warrior orders with the column reliefs probably inspired in part by royal images on stelae from the Maya area (Kristan-Graham 1989, 108–110; Kristan-Graham and Kowalski 2007, 58) and perhaps the figural columns of Chichen Itza (Kowalski 2007, 271) and the accession scenes on column and other reliefs at El Tajin (for parallels see Koontz 2015), Pyramid B deliberately juxtaposes the heritage of Teotihuacan with the eclectic “internationalism” of the early Postclassic. It also visually subordinates the warrior orders of Teotihuacan origin on the platform to the city’s rulers, whose images are placed on the summit in spaces that were closed, presumably more sacred, and undoubtedly more privileged and harder to access. At the same time, depicting the animal alter egos of the warrior groups on the public façade of the pyramid may acknowledge their support of royalty and proclaim their integration into the governance of the Tula polity. One gets the impression here

Figure 4.8. Pillar 3 relief, Pyramid B, Tula. Drawing by Jay Scantling after Cobean et al. (2012, 163:fig. 7.4).

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of a delicate balancing act between archaism and novelty, an outgrowth or continuation of the artistic and ideological eclecticism of the rulers of Tula’s Epiclassic predecessors at Cacaxtla and Xochicalco. Does this reflect a balancing act as well between stressing the right to rule and smooth succession of kings on one hand and recognizing the power of other sections of the ruling class on the other? Teotihuacan-inspired images of animals representing warrior orders first occur at Tula alongside apparent ruler depictions (in the form of the reclining figures) at Tula Chico. After Tula Chico was burned and abandoned, probably as a result of factional conflict, the early Postclassic kings and their artists and architects seem to have increased the deliberate references to Teotihuacan at Tula Grande. This archaizing trend seems reflected in the orientation of the center, in the placement of the two main pyramids in positions corresponding to those of the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon rather than side by side as at Tula Chico, and in the appearance of the Teotihuacan War Serpent in reliefs. Although the fragmentary and incomplete nature of the surviving sculpture of Tula Chico makes comparison difficult, there may have been a corresponding increase in the number of predatory animal representations at Tula Grande. The additional possible references to the Pyramid of the Moon and parallels with the Pyramid of the Sun adosada I have pointed out above are consistent with this trend. Despite Tula’s exaggerated reputation for the sanguinary content of its art, Teotihuacan’s indirect, nonnarrative approach to the portrayal of warfare and ceremonial violence was also adopted at Tula Grande, in sharp contrast to the art of Cacaxtla and El Tajin, and to Chichen Itza as well, where Teotihuacan-related war imagery occurs alongside explicit scenes of sacrifice (e.g., the Great Ball Court reliefs and the heart extraction portrayed on a gold disk from the Sacred Cenote) and battle scenes (the murals of the Upper Temple of the Jaguars and the Temple of the Warriors).6 Given the eclectic nature of Tula’s art, the selection of Teotihuacan’s more restrained visual vocabulary of violence over the explicit, narrative iconography of sacrifice of other predecessors and contemporaries remains puzzling. Although the art of Tula Grande is innovative in its eclecticism, the increased use of Teotihuacan iconography and architectural plans contrasts with, for example, Cacaxtla, where Teotihuacan elements in the murals are subordinated to style features appropriated from other areas of Mesoamerica. While the political circumstances behind these visual strategies at Tula Grande remain unknown, they seem to have called for more invocation of the Basin of Mexico’s past (corresponding to a greater role for or greater attempt to integrate lineages claiming Teotihuacan descent into the power structure?) and 122

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emphasis on the importance of multiple groups, including the warrior orders, in supporting the ruler and sharing power. There may be some parallels here with the alleged diminution of the power of individual rulers at Teotihuacan following the destruction and closing of the Temple of the Feathered Serpent (Cowgill 2015, 193; 2017, 24). That this strategy of artistic revival and greater inclusiveness (or co-optation) by Tula’s rulers was ultimately unsuccessful is underlined by the destruction of Tula Grande shortly after the Pyramid B façade reliefs were produced.

NOTES

1. For more recent publication of additional sculptures from Tula Chico, see Cobean et al. (2021, figs. 4, 7). 2. More recently, Headrick (2020, 192–193), while maintaining that her original hypothesis that the Atetelco “feline and canine reference animal mascots of two military orders,” speculates in light of the remains of actual predators in the Pyramid of the Moon that the hearts in front of these images “may suggest that Teotihuacanos fed the hearts of sacrificial victims to their zoological captives.” Christophe Helmke and Jesper Nielsen (2011, 25–28) attempt to trace the title “Heart-Eater,” borne by a class of late Postclassic Nahua ritualists, back to a Classic central Mexican warrior-priest office. Building on their work, Davide Domenici (2017, 57) suggests that the Tetitla jaguar images allude to this warrior-priestly title and may mark the apartment complex as associated with such military/religious elites. 3. Headrick (2007, 100) argues that the Teotihuacan warrior orders were sodalities rather than kinship based but suggests there is some evidence that lineage did influence membership. 4. The feline theme at this structure is not limited to these reliefs. Barbara Fash (in Fash et al. 2009, 209) noted at least nine heads of feline sculptures associated with the Pyramid of the Sun adosada, which probably represents a fraction of the original number. She and her coauthors compare them to the more elaborate stone mosaic frontal feline from the Xalla palace. This creature, displaying goggle eyes, shares aspects of its morphology with the composite creature christened the “jaguar-birdserpent” by Kubler, but identified by Taube as the War Serpent (see Cecelia Klein’s chapter in this volume for a different interpretation). The same entity occurs on the Pyramid B façade alongside the felines. This is another link between the two structures, but it is neither surprising nor highly specific, given Tula’s reuse of Teotihuacan symbolism in general. 5. Although it is beyond the scope of this chapter to explore the implications of this discovery for the art of Chichen Itza, processing carnivores in the “Toltec”

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or International Style shared by Tula and Chichen seem to appear earlier at Tula, as evidenced by the Tula Chico reliefs discussed above. These can be placed ca. 650–850 CE, so they are older than the earliest known images of this type at Chichen Itza, reliefs of jaguars in the Castillo-sub, which date to the start of the tenth century (Miller 2018, 180–181, fig. 6.4). However, Peter Schmidt’s (2007, 166–167) excavations in the Group of a Thousand Columns at Chichen revealed reliefs of profile jaguars with frontal faces like the ones from the Pyramid of the Sun adosada, and with their bodies marked with Ajaw signs and Kawiil heads (Schmidt 2007, 166–167, figs. 9, 10) and which seem related in pose to Maya jaguar thrones (derived from Teotihuacan models?), as well as fully profile jaguars in the style of Tula (Schmidt 2007, 164, fig. 67). These date to ca. 950–1000 CE and postdate Tula Chico, but are coeval with Pyramid B. This is a reminder that ideas exchanged between Tula and Chichen in their complex interaction were selectively appropriated and combined at each site with elements derived from their shared Teotihuacan legacy as transmitted through local intermediaries. See also Kowalski (2007) on the use of Teotihuacan iconography at both Chichen Itza and Uxmal. 6. These include not just the carnivorous animal imagery but representations of Tlaloc and the spearthrowers and fending sticks carried by armed figures (e.g., in the Temple of the Warriors and Northwest Colonnade). Linda Schele and David Freidel (1990, 364–365) pointed out that these were part of a suite of Teotihuacanderived war symbols adopted by the Classic Maya centuries before Chichen Itza’s glory days. See also Headrick (2020, 198) on the significance of these weapons. The Teotihuacan War Serpent appears at Chichen Itza both in its legged “composite creature”/“man-bird-jaguar-serpent” form (Taube 2000, 285–287; and more recently Taube 2020, 164–166) and as the Mosaic Serpent (Schele and Mathews 1998, 225). The feathered serpents ubiquitous in the art of Chichen Itza (and Tula) were also associated with warfare and sacrifice, both there (Nicholson 2000) and at Teotihuacan (S. Sugiyama 2005, 62–65).

REFERENCES

Acosta, Jorge. 1942–1944. “La tercera temporada de exploraciones arqueológicas en Tula, Hidalgo, 1942.” Revista Mexicana de Estudios Antropológicas 6:125–157. Angulo V., Jorge. 2001. “Teotihuacan: Aspectos de la cultura a través de su expresión pictórica.” In La pintura mural prehispánica en México I: Teotihuacan II: Estudios, edited by Beatriz de la Fuente, 65–186. Mexico City: UNAM. Berrin, Kathleen (ed.). 1988. Feathered Serpents and Flowering Trees. San Francisco: San Francisco Museum of Fine Arts.

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Cobean, Robert H., Dan M. Healan, and María Elena Suárez. 2021. “Recent Investigations at Tula Chico, Tula, Hidalgo.” Ancient Mesoamerica 32:41–55. Cobean, Robert, Elizabeth Jiménez García, and Alba Guadalupe Mastache. 2012. Tula. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Cowgill, George. 2015. Ancient Teotihuacan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cowgill, George. 2017. “A Speculative History of Teotihuacan.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 20–27. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Diehl, Richard. 1983. Tula: The Toltec Capital of Ancient Mexico. London and New York: Thames and Hudson. Domenici, Davide. 2017. “Place Names and Political Identities in Teotihuacan Mural Paintings.” In Constructing Power and Place in Mesoamerica: Pre-Hispanic Paintings from Three Regions, edited by Merideth Paxton and Leticia Staines Cicero, 53–75. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Fash, William, Alexandre Tokovonine, and Barbara Fash. 2009. “The House of New Fire at Teotihuacan and Its Legacy in Mesoamerica.” In The Art of Urbanism: How Mesoamerican Kingdoms Represented Themselves in Architecture and Imagery, edited by William L. Fash and Leonardo López Luján, 201–229. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Fuente, Beatriz de la. 2001. “Zona 3 Gran Puma.” In La pintura mural prehispánica en México I: Teotihuacan I: Catálogo, edited by Beatriz de la Fuente, 82–85. Mexico City: UNAM. Fuente, Beatriz de la, Silvia Trejo, and Nelly Gutiérrez Solana 1988. Escultura en piedra de Tula: Catálogo. Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas, UNAM. Headrick, Annabeth. 2007. The Teotihuacan Trinity: The Sociopolitical Structure of an Ancient Mesoamerican City. Austin: University of Texas Press. Headrick, Annabeth. 2020. “Empire at Chichen Itza Revisited.” In A Forest of History: The Maya after the Emergence of Divine Kingship, edited by Travis W. Stanton and M. Kathryn Brown, 187–203. Louisville: University Press of Colorado. Healan, Dan. 2012. “The Archaeology of Tula, Hidalgo, Mexico.” Journal of Archaeological Research, 20:53–115. Helmke, Christophe, and Jesper Nielsen. 2011. The Writing System of Cacaxtla, Tlaxcala, Mexico. Ancient America Special Publication 2. Barnardsville, NC: Boundary End Archaeology Research Center. Jiménez García, Elizabeth. 1998. Iconografía de Tula: El caso de la escultura. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

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Jiménez García, Elizabeth. 2010. Sculptural-Iconographic Catalogue of Tula, Hidalgo: The Stone Figures. Report submitted to the Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies, Inc (FAMSI). http://www.famsi.org/reports/07027/. Jones, Lindsay. 1995. Twin City Tales: A Hermeneutic Reassessment of Tula and Chichen Itza. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Jordan, Keith. 2013. “Serpents, Skeletons, and Ancestors? The Tula Coatepantli Revisited.” Ancient Mesoamerica 24 (2): 243–274. Jordan, Keith. 2016a. “From Tula Chico to Chichen Itza: Implications of the Epiclassic Sculpture of Tula for the Nature and Timing of Tula-Chichen Contact.” Latin American Antiquity 27 (4): 462–478. Jordan, Keith. 2016b. “Human Sacrifice at Tula: Reputation, Representation, and Reality.” Paper presented at the 81st annual meeting of the Society for American Archaeology, April 6–10, Orlando, Florida. Koontz, Rex. 2015. “Where Rulers Are Made: Spaces of Political Legitimacy at Tula and El Tajín.” In Memory Traces: Analyzing Sacred Space at Five Mesoamerican Sites, edited by Cynthia Kristan-Graham and Laura M. Arnheim, 45–79. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Kowalski, Jeff Karl. 2007. “What’s ‘Toltec’ at Uxmal and Chichen Itza? Merging Maya and Mesoamerican World Views and World Systems in Terminal Classic to Early Postclassic Yucatan.” In Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by Jeff Karl Kowalski and Cynthia Kristan-Graham, 248–313. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Kristan-Graham, Cynthia. 1989. “Art, Architecture, and the Mesoamerican Body Politic at Tula and Chichen Itza.” PhD diss., Department of Art History, University of California, Los Angeles. Kristan-Graham, Cynthia. 1999. “The Architecture of the Tula Body Politic.” In Mesoamerican Architecture as a Cultural Symbol, edited by Karl Jeff Kowalski, 162–175. London: Oxford University Press. Kristan-Graham, Cynthia. 2015. “Building Memories at Tula: Sacred Landscapes and Architectural Veneration.” In Memory Traces: Analyzing Sacred Space at Five Mesoamerican Sites, edited by Cynthia Kristan-Graham and Laura M. Arnheim, 81–130. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Kristan-Graham, Cynthia, and Jeff Karl Kowalski. 2007. “Chichen Itza, Tula, and Tollan: Changing Perspectives on a Recurring Problem in Mesoamerican Archaeology and Art History.” In Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by Jeff Karl Kowalski and Cynthia Kristan-Graham, 12–83. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks.

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López Luján, Leonardo, and Saburo Sugiyama. 2017. “The Ritual Deposits in the Moon Pyramid at Teotihuacan.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 82–89. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Mastache, Alba Guadalupe, Robert Cobean, and Dan Healan. 2002. Ancient Tollan: Tula and the Toltec Heartland. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Mastache, Alba Guadalupe, Robert Cobean, and Dan Healan. 2009. “Four Hundred Years of Settlement and Cultural Continuity at Epiclassic and Early Postclassic Tula.” In The Art of Urbanism: How Mesoamerican Kingdoms Represented Themselves in Architecture and Imagery, edited by William L. Fash and Leonardo López Luján, 290–328. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Miller, Arthur. 1976. The Mural Painting of Teotihuacan. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Miller, Virginia E. 2018. “The Castillo-sub at Chichen Itza: A Reconsideration.” In Landscapes of the Itza: Archaeology and Art History at Chichen Itza and Neighboring Sites, edited by Linnea Wren, Cynthia Kristan-Graham, Travis Nygard, and Kaylee Spencer, 171–197. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Nicholson, H. B. 2000. “The Iconography of the Feathered Serpent in Late Postclassic Central Mexico.” In Mesoamerica’s Classic Heritage: From Teotihuacan to the Aztecs, edited by David Carrasco, Lindsay Jones, and Scott Sessions, 145–164. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Nielsen, Jesper, and Christophe Helmke. 2018. “Where the Sun Came into Being: Rites of Pyrolatry, Transition, and Transformation in Early Classic Teotihuacan.” In Smoke, Flames, and the Human Body in Mesoamerican Ritual Practice, edited by Vera Tiesler and Andrew K. Scherer, 77–107. Washington: Dumbarton Oaks. Robb, Matthew. 2017. “Space, Object, and Identity in the City of the Gods.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 158–167. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Sarabia González, Alejandro, and Nelly Zoe Nuñez Rendón. 2017a. “The Sun Pyramid Architectural Complex in Teotihuacan: Vestiges of Worship and Veneration.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 62–67. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Sarabia González, Alejandro, and Nelly Zoe Nuñez Rendón. 2017b. “Catalog 86: Sculpture Fragment, 300–400.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 288. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press.

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Sarabia González, Alejandro, and Nelly Zoe Nuñez Rendón. 2017c. “Catalog 88: Fire Drill Almena, 300–500.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 290. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Sarro, Patricia J., and Matthew H. Robb. 2015. “Passing through the Center: The Architectural and Social Contexts of Teotihuacan Painting.” In Memory Traces: Analyzing Sacred Space at Five Mesoamerican Sites, edited by Cynthia KristanGraham and Laura M. Arnheim, 21–43. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Schele, Linda, and David Freidel. 1990. A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya. New York: Quill. Schele, Linda, and Peter Mathews. 1998. The Code of Kings: The Language of Seven Sacred Maya Temples and Tombs. New York: Scribner. Schmidt, Peter J. 2007. “Birds, Ceramics, and Cacao: New Excavations at Chichén Itzá, Yucatan.” In Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by Jeff Karl Kowalski and Cynthia KristanGraham, 113–155. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Smith, Michael. 2007. “Tula and Chichen Itza: Are We Asking the Right Questions?” In Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World, edited by Jeff Karl Kowalski and Cynthia Kristan-Graham, 578–617. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Sterpone, Oswaldo José. 2007. Tollan a 65 años de Jorge R. Acosta. Pachuca: Universidad Autónoma del Estado de Hidalgo and Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Sugiyama, Nawa. 2017. “Pumas Eating Human Hearts? Animal Sacrifice and Captivity at the Moon Pyramid.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew Robb, 90–93. San Francisco: Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco; Berkeley: University of California Press. Sugiyama, Saburo. 2005. Human Sacrifice, Militarism, and Rulership: Materialization of State Ideology at the Feathered Serpent Pyramid, Teotihuacan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taube, Karl. 2000. “The Turquoise Hearth: Fire, Sacrifice, and the Mesoamerican Cult of War.” In Mesoamerica’s Classic Heritage: From Teotihuacan to the Aztecs, edited by Davíd Carrasco, Lindsay Jones, and Scott Sessions, 269–330. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Taube, Karl. 2006. “Climbing Flower Mountain: Concepts of Resurrection and the Afterlife at Teotihuacan.” In Arqueología e historia del Centro de México: Homenaje a Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, edited by Leonardo López Luján, Davíd Carrasco, and Lourdes Cué, 153–170. Mexico City: INAH.

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Taube, Karl. 2020. “In Search of Paradise: Religion and Cultural Exchange in Early Postclassic Mesoamérica.” In A Forest of History: The Maya after the Emergence of Divine Kingship, edited by Travis W. Stanton and M. Kathryn Brown, 154–186. Louisville: University Press of Colorado. Tozzer, Alfred. 1957. Chichen Itza and Its Cenote of Sacrifice. Memoirs XI–XII. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University.

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5 An Animal Kingdom at Chichen Itza Reconstructing a Sculptural Tableau at the Sacred Cenote

Cynthia Kristan- Graham

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INTRODUCTION

Today the ancient city of Chichen Itza seems to be timeless, as if frozen in a moment hundreds of years ago. Archaeology and art history, however, continue to clarify and refine Chichen’s long and complex history of urbanism, architecture, and art (Cobos and Winemiller 2001; Kowalski and Kristan-Graham 2011; Ringle 2017; Wren et al. 2018). This chapter adds to the idea of Chichen Itza as a dynamic city whose appearance and ritual aspects were worked and reworked. I focus on an array of animal sculptures that once formed a tableau at the rim of the Sacred Cenote, according to both ethnohistory and archaeology (figures 5.1a, 5.1b, 5.2a, 5.2b). However, most of the sculpted creatures are not at the Sacred Cenote today, as they apparently were deposited into that watery realm in the mid-sixteenth century. Thus, the visual program that I examine is no longer visible. Piña Chan (1970) contains many photographs of sculpture and other objects dredged from the Sacred Cenote in the 1960s. The quality of the photographs is not suitable for publication, so line drawings made after the photographs are used here. The “animal kingdom” of the title references how these sculptures intersect with ideas about rulership writ large, not to the scientific classifications of living creatures. In addition to rulership, this chapter considers how the animal subjects intersect with religion, fertility, and ritual. I also explore the tableau as a composition that was contingent upon human actors to view https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c005

Figure 5.1a. Frog sculpture, west rim of Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. This in situ “boulder” is carved to represent a pair of mating frogs. The head and front leg of the upper frog (top) and a rear leg of the lower frog (left) are easiest to see. Gift of the Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1958. © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, 58-34-20/71566. Figure 5.1b. Drawing of the pair of mating frogs, west rim, Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. The upper frog’s head, body, and parts of a leg are shown, as are the rear legs of the lower frog. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham.

Figure 5.2a. One feathered serpent “wall” dredged from the Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Carved feathered serpents were once attached to walls of the terminus of Sacbe 1 near the Sacred Cenote. The bodies are rectangular, befitting their function as part of a wall. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham, after Piña Chan (1970, photo 23). Figure 5.2b. Two jaguars dredged from the Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Both have open mouths and spotted coats. The sculpture on the left features a stone ring at the back that plausibly held a standard. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham, after Piña Chan (1970, photo 24).

and inhabit its space. Unlike the paintings, reliefs, and architectural sculpture that typify the Chichen art tradition, the tableau broke away from a geometric matrix because its sculpted components were arranged on land rather than being part of a building complex. The tableau invited movement around the components in countless patterns that would have created shifting viewpoints 132

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and spatial intimacy with the imagery. The emphasis on spatiality and imagery is in the tradition of Cecelia Klein’s (1987) perceptive analysis of auto-sacrifice at the Aztec Templo Mayor. Centrally located in northern Yucatan, Mexico, Chichen Itza developed in the early Classic period and grew to be a powerful Maya metropolis and center of political authority, trade, and pilgrimages in the Epiclassic–early Postclassic periods (800–1200 CE). In addition to the Sacred Cenote and its animal tableau, I discuss the Great Terrace, the nucleus of the Postclassic city that symbolically intersected with the Sacred Cenote, and the raised causeway (Sacbe 1) that connects them to form a ritual matrix (figure 5.3a). Their scale is impressive. The Great Terrace measures 600 × 400 m and is the largest single construction at Chichen. On the northern perimeter of the terrace, Sacbe 1 is 1.9 m wide and 273 m long, forming a pathway to the Sacred Cenote, which measures 60 m in diameter (Braswell and Peniche May 2012, 227; Pérez de Heredia 2010, 192) (figure 5.3b). The topography of northern Yucatan includes cenotes, or ruptures in the porous karstic earth that formed wells. In a region without rivers or lakes, cenotes are the only source of potable water; some also served ritual uses. Cenotes acted as magnets for settlement, shaped the demography of Yucatan (Munro and Melo Zurita 2011, 590), and were central places in villages (Freidel et al. 1993; Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934). The Sacred Cenote (hereafter called “the Cenote”) seems to have been the only one in Yucatan that was “a central marker” and a channel to communicate with the gods (Paxton 2001, 210). Many other cenotes punctuate the Chichen landscape. In particular, five cenotes or caves form a cosmogram of the world directions, with the newly discovered cenote or cave below the Castillo pyramid at the center (Anda et al. 2016). Despite its location north of the Great Terrace, the Cenote functioned as a central place at Chichen. It is the largest known Maya sinkhole and the repository for the largest watery cache of offerings and human bones in cenotes. It also was a pilgrimage site, both during the height of Cenote rituals in the Epiclassic and early Postclassic and after Chichen’s population began to decline during the early Postclassic. Recent studies estimate that the population perhaps reached as high as 50,000 and was significantly lower by at least CE 1100 (Volta and Braswell 2014, 390; Volta et al. 2018, 43, 55). Cenotes also were sacred places that acted “as portals that allowed mortals to communicate with the supernatural world,” and the dark, moist interior evoked the primordial waters of creation (Martos López 2010, 224). These pores in the earth were the focus of rituals about water, rain, fertility, death, rebirth, and ancestors. Cenotes were abodes of Chaak, deity of rain and A N A N I M A L K I N G D O M AT C H I C H EN I TZ A

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Figure 5.3a. Plan of the northern part of Chichen Itza, including the Sacred Cenote and the Great Terrace. A, Sacred Cenote; B, Sacbe 1; C, Great Ball Court; D, Skull rack (tzompantli); E, Platform of the Eagles and Jaguars; F, Venus Platform; G, Temple of the Warriors; H, Castillo. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham, adapted from the map by J. O. Kilmartin and J. P. O’Neill in Ruppert (1952, fig. 151). Figure 5.3b. Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Image reproduced under license from Fotos 593, file 191262493, stock .adobe.com.

lightning, and his assistants (Bassie-Sweet and Hopkins 2019, 59; Redfield 1941, 118–119; Vogt and Stuart 2005, 155). The material deposited into the Cenote—including domestic items, valued materials such as gold and jade, and foreign objects acquired through exchange—are thought to have petitioned the gods for rain.1 Ceramics, textiles, weapons, and wooden figures are both local and regional (Coggins and Shane 1984). Foreign objects include copper bells and objects of gold and tumbaga in the form of frogs, birds, monkeys, and humans. Also among the objects recovered are gold discs from Costa Rica and Panama, ceramics from Guatemala, obsidian, and carved jade; all of these were the most highly prized materials in Mesoamerica (figures 5.4a, 5.4b, 5.4c). Although copper and gold are scarce at other Maya sites, the Cenote contained a profusion of metal. Some thin gold discs seem to have been worked or reworked at Chichen (Doyle 2017). The Cenote also contained remains of about 200 individuals who ranged in age from children to adults (Anda 2007).2 The Cenote may even have been represented at Chichen. A painted frieze in the North Temple of the Great Ball Court shows a cenote in a panorama that represents a ruler’s burial and the accession of his successor (figure 5.5; Wren 1989; Wren and Schmidt 1991). A now-lost mural fragment in the Temple of the Warriors represents part of a landlocked body of water that is framed by paver stones, which parallels the Cenote’s original appearance (Morris 1931, 2:plate 152d).3

THE ANIMAL TABLEAU

Sculpture at the Cenote represents a variety of animals. Five frogs or toads are carved on a limestone shelf 15 m from the Cenote’s southwestern rim (Ruppert 1952, 8).4 In nature these amphibians look alike save for bodily proportions and the toads’ glands; the sculptures are too eroded to detect skin, let alone glands. Other sculptures were found in the Cenote when it was dredged in the 1960s (Piña Chan 1970). One of the several sculpted jaguars may be the “lion” statue that Bishop Diego de Landa (in Tozzer 1941, 183) saw near the Cenote when he visited Chichen in the mid-sixteenth century. Two carved feathered serpents were once attached to walls that framed the Sacbe 1 terminus; these walls framed the entire road, and serpents marked the Cenote terminus of the sacbe, which was apparently visualized as the serpents’ bodies. The walls were fairly low, with two courses of stones that reached the height of an adult’s knees, but this was sufficient to demarcate the sacbe from one terminus at the northern perimeter of the Great Platform to the other at the A N A N I M A L K I N G D O M AT C H I C H EN I TZ A

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Figure 5.4a. Gold Disk G, dredged from the Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Peabody Museum Expedition, 1907–1910. © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, 10-71-20/C10067.

Figure 5.4b. Gold frog pendant, Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Peabody Museum Expedition, 1907–1910. © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, 10-71-20/C7710.3. Figure 5.4c. Ceramic tripod bowl containing copal and jade beads, Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. Peabody Museum Expedition, E. H. Thompson, Director, 1904–1907. © President and Fellows of Harvard College, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, 07-7-20/C4561.

Figure 5.5. Detail of a procession scene, north wall of North Temple, Great Ball Court, Chichen Itza. The cenote is in the bottom register, noted with an arrow. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham, after Linda Schele, SD-5071, Schele Drawing Collection, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, http://ancientamericas.org/collection/aa010523.

Figure 5.6. Hypothetical location of animal sculptures discussed. Feathered serpents at terminus of Sacbe 1; frog sculptures near the Cenote rim; and jaguar sculptures near the carved frogs, on the ground above where they were found in the Cenote. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham.

southwest rim of the Cenote (Pérez de Heredia and Victoria Ojeda 1995; Piña Chan 1970). The jaguars and feathered serpents were found in the southwest sector of the Cenote, below the site of the stone frogs and near Sacbe 1 (Piña Chan 1970), indicating that at one time the animals probably were close to each other when they were on land (figure 5.6).5

LANDA AND THE SCULPTED ANIMALS

Landa may have been responsible for some sculpture ending up in the Cenote as part of his program of religious conversion and extirpation of idolatry (Pérez de Heredia and Victoria Ojeda 1995). The sculpture and other offerings were apparently thrown into the water; today the water surface is 27 m below ground with a depth of 14 m. Landa reported seeing idols and ceramic vessels in the Postclassic temple next to the Cenote (Landa in Tozzer 1941, 183). The material dredged from the Cenote shows that some idols took the form of small wooden figures, and others are ceramic vessels and incensarios (Coggins and Shane 1984, fig. 175). Plausibly Landa had these objects thrown into the Cenote as a continuation of his earlier action at the nearby village of Dzitas, where he broke idols and ceramic vessels and freed a youth who was being prepared for sacrifice (Ancona 1889; Liano 1988).6 Visitors later in the sixteenth 138

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century did not write about these items, perhaps because they were already in the Cenote. Eduardo Pérez de Heredia saw only fragments of such items while working at Chichen Itza in the 1990s and 2000s (Pérez de Heredia 2010, 363). If Landa or other clerics did not dispose of them in the Cenote, perhaps Maya did so as part of renovations or as part of a termination ritual.

THE CENOTE ANIMALS

The tableau animals are associated with a Maya world view about the cosmos and religion, and they derive symbolism vis-à-vis their proximity to the Cenote and the conceptual equation between cenotes and caves. The animals discussed—frogs, jaguars, serpents—have a myriad of interpretations and symbolic associations in Mesoamerica in general and for the Maya in particular. The focus here is on fertility and politics (see Klein, chapter 3, for analyses of some of these animals). Similar animals are represented at Cacaxtla’s Red Temple, which is associated with Maya influence and is contemporaneous with intensive artistic activity at Chichen (Brittenham 2015). The jaguar is associated with the sun, moon, underworld, and night (Milbrath 1999, 66; Saunders 1994). In Maya thought toads and frogs are linked to fertility, birth, the night, the moon, and calendrics (Coe 1973, 15, n10–14; Milbrath 1999, 62, 119, 124, 257; Thompson 1970, 268; Tozzer and Allen 1910). The snake—especially the feathered serpent—embodies a spectrum of Maya symbolism and is a manifestation of K’uk’ulkan (Quetzalcoatl in Nahua), who is associated with calendrics, rain, lightning, and Venus (Folan et al. 2016; Nicholson 2001). One modern Maya account describes how a feathered serpent called “colas” emerges from a cave every year in July during the rainy season (Milbrath 1999, 36). The tableau format and animals formed part of Mesoamerican art for millennia, spanning the Formative–late Postclassic periods. Examples include Olmec and Aztec frogs (López Luján and Chiari 2012; Pasztory 1983, 129; Stirling 1943, 63). Felines and/or feathered serpents are known from nearly every corner of Mesoamerica, including San Bartolo, Teotihuacan, Monte Alban, Xochicalco, the Gulf Coast (M. Miller 2012), Tula (Fuente et al. 1988), and Copan (Baudez 2015). At Chichen feathered serpents adorn many buildings; large-scale reliefs of jaguars are at the Temple of the Big Tables and rows of canids, felines, and raptors in procession encircle the façade of the adjacent Temple of the Warriors (chapter 4 discusses similar imagery at Tula). Most of these animals are associated with fertility and rulership, and the Cenote animals can be understood as part of both general Mesoamerican as well as Maya symbolism. A N A N I M A L K I N G D O M AT C H I C H EN I TZ A

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Tableaux that involve groups of sculptures or figures appear intermittently in Mesoamerica. Arrays of figurines formed offerings or caches, as La Venta Offering 4, the Tomb 103 courtyard at Monte Alban, and Burial 39 from El Perú–Waká demonstrate (M. Miller 2012, figs. 28, 101, 177). Moreover, largescale sculptures, altars, and earthworks form monumental tableaux at Preclassic Olmec and Pacific Coast sites (Guernsey et al. 2010) and Copan’s Main Group (Baudez 2015). These examples show that the tableau format was recognized in Mesoamerica, but the Cenote tableau is the only one whose components form a menagerie of animals (V. Miller, personal communication 2019).

THE SYMBOLISM OF FERTILIT Y

As a natural phenomenon and a ritual focus, the Cenote has obvious affinities with rain and fertility. Cenotes are a natural habitat for snakes and frogs, and Chaak’s assistants had small pet frogs (Thompson 1970, 258). Two pairs of the Cenote frogs are shown mating; the male sits on his partner’s back, hugging her midsection for protection as he fertilizes eggs as they are deposited into water (figures 5.1a, 5.1b, 5.7a; Beletsky 1999, 79, 83). Frog eggs take the form of jellied clusters, and when the female extrudes eggs it looks as if spheres explode from her body. Green eggs in particular recall the deposition of beads and other jade regalia found in the Cenote (figures 5.7b, 5.4c). In addition, frogs announce rain and the onset of the rainy season, with thunderous croaking and frantic hopping (Love 2012, 106). Croaking attracts mates in order to lay eggs in pools of fresh rainwater, a preferred medium for gestation. Frogs can even “rain” from the sky, along with fish and spiders, as the result of waterspouts (McAtee 1917, 21; Zielinski 2015). Predictably, frogs are vital to rain ceremonies. Today during ch’a’ chaak ceremonies in Yucatan, young boys at the corners of altars imitate frogs “croaking” for rain (figure 5.8a; Boot 1988; Freidel et al. 1993, 254, fig. 1; Love 2012, 100, 106, 136; Villa Rojas 1945, 114). The same is true for contemporary Ch’orti’ Maya rain ceremonies (Girard 1995, 137; Vail and Looper 2015, 134–136). This spatial aspect of rain ceremonies may be indebted to earlier rituals discussed by Landa and illustrated in the Madrid Codex; one page illustrates frogs at the corners of altars, just where boys stand in modern rain rituals (Madrid Codex 31; figure 5.8b). This and other Maya codices are generally dated to the late Postclassic period, 1250–1520 (Vail and Aveni 2004), and Cenote rituals were practiced before, during, and after this period (see note 1). Given the import of frogs and fertility rituals I wonder if frog sculptures found in the Cenote might be vestiges of ancient rain rituals (figure 5.1b). 140

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Figure 5.7a. Tree frogs mating. Photograph by Charles J. Sharp. Creative Commons 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org /wiki/File:Red-eyed_tree_ frogs_mating.JPG. Figure 5.7b. Tree frog eggs. Photograph by Brian Gratwicke. Creative Commons 2.0, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki /File:Red-eyed_Tree_Frog _(Agalychnis_callidryas)_eggs.jpg.

Figure 5.8a. Ch’a chaak ceremony, Yucatan. The arbor and ritual paraphernalia are not included in order to see the altar and figures clearly. Drawing by author, after Freidel et al. (1993, fig. 1-11). Figure 5.8b. Detail of Madrid Codex 31. From Rada y Delgado et al. (1892).

Figure 5.9. Detail of Dresden Codex 21. From Förstemann (1880).

Frogs and toads both croak at the onset of rain and share associations with water, rain, and the moon (chapter 6; Milbrath 1999, 156). Toad eggs are dark and form a string unlike the jellied mass formed by frog eggs. These amphibians can also be distinguished by their habitat. Frogs inhabit moist settings whereas the marine toad, Bufo marinus, can exist in either moist or dry environs (Beletsky 1999, 79). Thus, it is likely that the amphibian sculptures represent frogs, which have more parallels with the Cenote and its rituals. Jaguars have a well-known connection with water, being good swimmers, and like frogs, they are connected to the moon in some Mesoamerican contexts (chapter 11; Milbrath 1999, 120–135). The stone jaguars that once were around the Cenote also symbolize fertility. Their coats evince the fourth and final stage of the pigmentation pattern that changes from spots on baby jaguars to rosettes in adults (Liu et al. 2006), these rosettes marking the jaguar’s ability to reproduce (figure 5.2b). In current Maya narratives the jaguar and toad find a messenger to ask the gods for rain (Rodríguez-Mejia and Sexton 2010). Snakes of course are associated with water and renewal, especially because they periodically shed their skin. Like the Madrid Codex, the Dresden Codex was created when Cenote rituals were practiced. Dresden 31–35 illustrate cenotes as waterholes framed by snakes. In several instances Chaak emerges from the open maws of a serpent whose body is the boundary of a cenote (figure 5.9). This recalls cenotes as snake habitats, which the carved feathered serpent in the Cenote complex highlights. Chaak rising from water references a perpetual cycle wherein water evaporates and then forms clouds and storms that return water to the earth (Vail and Looper 2015, 129, 134). The Sacbe 1 feathered serpent walls likely depict rattlesnakes, the snake most often represented as K’uk’ulkan, who is associated with fertility as patron of wind, which is associated with rainstorms. As a member of the pit viper family, rattlesnakes

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Figure 5.10a. Feathered Serpent balustrades, north façade, Castillo. Image reproduced under license from lunamaria, file 31014885, stock.adobe.com.

Figure 5.10b. Location of Feathered Serpent sculptures at Castillo and Sacred Cenote, Chichen Itza. A, Feathered Serpent balustrades, north façade, Castillo; B, Feathered Serpent walls, Sacbe 1 terminus near Cenote; C, Sacred Cenote. Drawing by Nathaniel H. Graham.

have concave pit organs or thermal sensors below the eyes that allow them to locate and strike prey, and the olfactory receptors of the tongue sense features of the environment such as dirt, animals, and plants (Goris 2011; Klauber 1972, 399, 401). In the art of Chichen Itza, scrolls emanating from the corners of the mouth probably represent halves of the forked tongue (figure 5.10a). 144

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Another reason for the association of rattlers with fertility is that they appear to give birth to live offspring. Among pit vipers, only rattlesnake eggs hatch inside the mother, and the young emerge alive from her body (Liu et al. 2006). Moreover, the name K’uk’ulkan (“Quetzal Feathers” but more commonly called “Feathered Serpent”) in Yucatec and Ch’olan Maya signifies fecundity. Early colonial Maya dictionaries define the name K’uk’ulkan in terms of lineage and offspring. For example, k’uk can refer to growth and generation in the form of offspring, sprout, and shoot while kan/chan can mean “tangled bramble” in addition to “snake” (Barrera Vázquez et al. 1980, 291, 420; Kaufman and Norman 1984, 124; Martínez Hernández 1929, 526; Roys 1967; see also Macri and Looper 2003, 94).

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SACBES AND SERPENTS

As an extension of Sacbe 1, the feathered serpent sculptures also may refer to the complex of structures connected to the Cenote and its associations with the watery world. Sacbe 1 is one of the most prominent roads at Chichen. It is almost on axis with the largest pyramid at the site, the Castillo, and the nearby Venus Platform. Because these buildings are on axis with Sacbe 1, and not with other structures on the Great Terrace, apparently they were meant to mark a north-south axis (Braswell and Peniche May 2012, 249).7 The north façade of the Castillo is adorned with feathered serpent heads at ground level (figure 5.10a). In the late afternoon the equinoctial sun illuminates the balustrade above the feathered serpent heads to form diamondback patterns on the balustrade, which brings to life the snake bodies attached to the feathered serpent heads and identifies them as rattlers (Carlson 1999; Šprajc 2015). The intersection of sun and stone creates the impression that the snakes metaphorically descend the Castillo staircase, pass the Venus Platform, and move across the Great Terrace; at the terrace’s northern perimeter Sacbe 1 leads 300 m northward to the Sacred Cenote, which was framed there by sculpted feathered serpents. In effect, Sacbe 1 can be viewed as becoming a colossal snake (Pérez de Heredia 2008, 49) (figure 5.10b). Directionality and implied movement suggest that the snake metaphorically descends into the depths of the Sacred Cenote. Images of feathered serpents in cenotes may illustrate this concept; a vault stone in the Temple of the Owls at Chichen depicts a feathered serpent inside a cenote (Pérez de Heredia 2008, 49). Because cenotes are snake habitats, if the cenote was conceived of as a mouth, it may be that of a snake. Many have observed that the feathered-serpent balustrades figuratively frame the southern terminus of Sacbe 1, a road with ritual import and heavy A N A N I M A L K I N G D O M AT C H I C H EN I TZ A

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foot traffic. This configuration can be understood as a symbolic road (Schwartz and Taube 2010, 277). The travels and migrations of the deity K’uk’ulkan in Yucatan are directly connected with sacbes and other roads, according to indigenous and early colonial sources (Folan et al. 2016; Ringle et al. 1998). Sacbe 1 thus can be understood as a road with a pair of sculpted serpents at each end (figure 5.10b). This recalls the four Chicchan rain serpents (Prudence Rice, personal communication 2016; see also Rice 2018, 128). The Chorti believe that the Chicchans are feathered serpents that reside in the sky, producing most weather phenomena, and generate agricultural bounty (Burns 1983, 246; Wisdom 1940, 393–397). The Madrid Codex shows Chicchans with the rain deity Chaak and “falling water” that symbolizes precipitation (Milbrath 1999, 59–60, 261). THE NIGHT

Because the frog, jaguar, and rattlesnake all are nocturnal, the tableau may be understood as a nocturne, imagery or music that evokes the night. For the Maya the sun passes through the underworld at night, which was a time to observe stellar and planetary movements for prognosticating events and tracking the agricultural calendar. The frog statues may evoke the night, as their croaking is routinely heard in the northern lowlands. The Paris Codex illustrates a frog constellation, so clearly the Yucatec Maya did see a frog in the night sky (Milbrath 1999, 268). The stone jaguars’ mouths are wide open as if growling, and their spotted coats recall the starry sky (Thompson 1970, 293).8 Jaguars and rattlesnakes hunt and feed at night. In the absence of writing or the formal parameters of a narrative composition, the animal sculptures evoke the night sky and a natural history of the night (see Gonlin and Nowell 2018). The nocturne also parallels some Cenote rituals that involved burned objects (figure 5.4a). Gold disks and other objects were burned, and sometimes crumpled, before being cast into the Cenote; the requisite fire would have had a more dramatic appearance at night (M. Miller, personal communication 2016; 2017).9 Fire is also evident in the many charred and burned bones of skeletons in the Cenote, some of which may be the result of cremation (Anda 2007). The wooden idols discussed earlier have been associated with cremations; some had hollows where cremated remains were placed; these are similar to ones that Landa (in Tozzer 1941, 131) described in detail. RULERSHIP AND RITUAL

Some of the Cenote animals embody rulership, most notably the jaguar and feathered serpent. The jaguar is an apex predator, a stealthy hunter whose 146

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claws and fangs can inflict fatal injuries, and Mesoamerican elites and warriors were cloaked with jaguar pelts, as those who fought on the battlefield and in the realm of realpolitik wished to match the animal’s ferocity. In tangled ethnohistoric accounts K’uk’ulkan is associated with rulership at Chichen and Mayapan (Folan et al. 2016; Nicholson 2001; Ringle et al. 1998; Tozzer 1941). The North Temple mural discussed earlier represents a cenote within the context of accession rituals. Considering subject matter and location near the Cenote–Sacbe 1 juncture, the low in situ frogs may have served as altars or thrones, extending the animal metaphors of rulership to amphibians as well.10 The central depressions perhaps held standards, curtains, or liquid, with seating available on the peripheries. The backs of the jaguars feature stone rings, which probably held standards. Maya thrones in the form of jaguars and alligators are familiar from Tikal, Palenque, Uxmal, and other Maya sites. Other Maya sites provide parallels for the tableau animals. The union of rulers and amphibians is evident in a large stucco frieze in the early Classic Structure 1 at Balamkú, Campeche. The frieze depicts a frog or toad rising from a cleft in the earth, and a king emerges from the mouth of the animal, which may be an earth monster (Salazar Lama 2017, fig. 1). The earth monster has been likened to a throne, and one might imagine that the animal burps or croaks the king into existence (Wren et al. 2001, 262–263). At Los Sapos, near Copan, bedrock was fashioned into the shape of toads/ frogs, crocodiles, and a man in the act of ritual bloodletting (Landau 2016, 397–400). Behind these features are canals and other engineering devices that managed rainwater. The toads/frogs symbolize birth, while the presence of earth, water, and other carvings creates a nucleus of features and symbols that highlight fertility (Landau 2016), much like the later Cenote tableau at Chichen. Unlike geometric bench thrones, exemplified by those at Classic-period Tikal (Harrison 2001), the in situ Cenote animals integrate with the surrounding landscape and Cenote shape. Exterior thrones were usually sited so that sitters could view rituals and be viewed amid theatrical events (Inomata 2006, 8). Parallels include the late Formative “toad altars” from Izapa that were “analogous to stages or dance platforms upon which the ruler performed” (Guernsey Kappelman 2000, 82). If the boulders sculpted with frogs were indeed thrones or altars, then they mark courtly activity at one of Chichen’s most important natural and ritual locales. Alternately, the frog sculptures may have held or displayed the remains of sacrificed individuals. Many of the 200 human skeletons from the Cenote had holes in crania that suggest display on skull racks or scaffolding (Tiesler and A N A N I M A L K I N G D O M AT C H I C H EN I TZ A

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Cucina 2012). A large skull rack close to the Great Ball Court and the beginning of Sacbe 1 at the Great Terrace illustrates over 2,000 skulls “strung vertically on poles” (V. Miller 2007, 170, fig 7.4). Many skeletons from the Cenote have evidence of defleshing, flaying, and heart extraction. In the 1960s Piña Chan (1970) found a group of these skeletons in the water below the temple on the Cenote’s southwest rim, where the stone animals also were found; the skeletons are now in the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City (Anda 2007, 194–201). The tableau thus may have been a locus of sacrifice, cremation, and post-mortem skeletal alteration next to an aqueous portal to the Otherworld.11 Possibly the stone jaguars served a ritual function parallel to the live jaguars that were participants in some Maya rituals. Osteological material indicates that as early as 400 BCE jaguars were raised in captivity at Ceibal, presumably to use in rituals (Sharpe et al. 2018). Copan apparently maintained and traded jaguars and pumas, primarily for royal rituals and expressions of power during its entire dynastic history (Sugiyama et al. 2018). In addition to serving as standard bearers, plausibly the Cenote jaguars were surrogates for actual animals. In fact, jaguars appear with royalty in murals at the North Temple of the Great Ball Court (figure 5.5). In comparison, a recent study of ritual animal use at late Classic Cancuen, Guatemala, found remains of 200 people, marine life, amphibians, and mammals in canals and reservoirs in the site center. The Sacred Cenote tableau animals—jaguars, snakes, frogs/toads—were found there in small quantities (Thornton and Demarest 2019). Stone monuments are frequently associated with Maya roads (Keller 2006, 106), and the Cenote tableau contains the largest known array of sculpted pieces near a sacbe.12 The tableau emplaces sculptural animals in the landscape, and the stone links the animals to the Cenote visually and materially since flagstone pavers line the Cenote rim; this is evident in the Temple of the Warriors mural fragment discussed earlier. In a similar fashion, the Cenote tableau invites spatial and visual interaction. Viewers, presumably those of high rank and ritual actors, could have approached and seen the sculptures from a variety of viewpoints around Sacbe 1 and the Cenote rim. This can be understood as a less structured manner of imagery that unfolds in time and space to create shifting imagery, which can be seen walking through structures like the Temple of the Warriors; colonnades on the ground and temple summit are composed of pillars whose faces are sculpted and painted to represent figures; movement animates the colonnades cinematically, as shifting viewpoints reveal different pillar faces, angles, figures, and spatial compositions that can be viewed from afar or within the colonnade itself (Kristan-Graham 2001, figs. 12.3, 12.6). 148

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CONCLUSION

The Cenote tableau cannot be viewed today because its components—except for the frogs—are dispersed in museums. Stone jaguars, feathered serpents, offerings, and the remains of more than 200 individuals were found in the Cenote itself; some were positioned near the southwestern rim, where the sculpted frogs are located, and near the temple. These are the only known large sculptures that can, on the basis of archaeology and ethnohistory, definitely be associated with the Sacred Cenote and Sacbe 1, an epicenter of symbolism and ritual at Chichen. The animals represented spark ideas about fertility, rain, rulership, nighttime, and the cosmos, all foremost concerns for the Maya. These ideas are expressed without hierarchical formal, narrative compositions that typify so much art at Chichen. Ritual actors, ceremonies, sculpture, and the Sacred Cenote combine to transform space into an experiential zone in a manner that expands the norms of the Chichen Itza art tradition. Acknowledgments. Several individuals provided assistance while I was researching and writing this chapter. Foremost is Susan Milbrath, who provided indispensable suggestions on several drafts of the chapter; Prudence Rice suggested the association of the feathered serpent termini of Sacbe 1 with Chicchan serpents; Mary Miller offered information about her work on fire rituals at the Cenote; Virginia Miller provided valuable feedback on an early draft of this chapter; Kristin Landau shared her knowledge of Los Sapos; Evan Albright and Jeremy Coltman shared their knowledge about Cenote sculptures; Eduardo Pérez de Heredia provided access to an unpublished manuscript and answered my many queries; and anonymous reviewers made important comments. I thank them all. I am grateful to Nathaniel Graham for his drawings.

NOTES

1. Although the oldest ceramics recovered from the Cenote are Preclassic and early Classic, Cenote deposits probably began in the late Classic and reached their largest extent in the Postclassic (Pérez de Heredia 2010; Proskouriakoff 1974; Tozzer 1957, 196). An alternative hypothesis argues that Cenote rituals occurred in two phases, from 800 to 1539 (Coggins and Shane 1984). 2. Isotope analyses of teeth of forty skeletons reveal that the individuals were both local and from as far away as Honduras, the Gulf Coast of Veracruz, and central Mexico (Price et al. 2019). Considering that Chichen was the hub of an extensive trading network (Ardren et al. 2010; Smith and Bond-Freeman 2018), that some human

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remains were those of foreigners, and that many trade items and foreign exotica filled the Cenote, it is plausible that some Cenote rituals also involved merchants and trade. 3. A now-lost capstone from the Temple of the Owls may also illustrate a cenote (Pérez de Heredia 2008; Willard 1926, 248). 4. Three frog sculptures are carved into the living rock. There are two pairs of mating frogs and one lone frog. One pair is 1.82 m long, 1.44 m wide, and 88 cm high; the two frogs are 47 cm long, 35 cm wide, and 18 cm high and 65 cm long, 34 cm wide, and 18 cm high. The other pair is 1.45 m long, 76 cm wide, and 77 cm high. The lone frog is 1.65 m long, 1.46 m wide, and 60 cm high (Ruppert 1952, 8). 5. It is likely that cenotes were thought of as the open maws of skeletal centipedes, an arthropod that symbolized military aggression (Stone and Zender 2011, 74–75). In actuality, centipede mouths have few distinguishing features. However, centipede pincers, which obtain and process food before inserting it into the mouth, may share some features with cenotes. The first pair of pincers meet in an arc shape in front of the head (Lewis 1981, 7–8, 183, figs. 6, 7), and this portion of the centipede is similar to aerial views of cenotes. Several dissimilar glyphs have been identified, all or in part, as centipedes ( Johnson 2013, 320; Stone and Zender 2011, 71). Other interpretations suggest that cenotes were understood as snake maws or a centipede-snake creature (BassieSweet 2014, 208; Bassie-Sweet and Hopkins 2019, 59; Johnson 2013, 320; Kettunen and Davis 2004; Schele 1992; for other symbolic and glyphic associations of centipedes see also Carrasco and Hull 2002; Chinchilla 2017, 125–127; Grube and Nahm 1994; Milbrath 1999, 179; Taube 2003). 6. Based on an analysis of the original copy of Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatán, Restall and Chuchiak (2002) determined that the manuscript was written by more than one individual at different times. For the sake of convention, Landa is still cited here as the author. There is evidence that Landa’s successor, Bishop Gregorio Montalvo, also threw material into the Cenote. In the village of Tizminac in 1583 a witness followed Montalvo’s orders by destroying idols and tossing them into “a lake” (Destruction of idols by the Bishop, in Sánchez de Aguilar, 1987, 32). The reference may be to the Yucatec village of Tizimin and the cenote located 4 km to the north. 7. The relative chronology of the Castillo and Sacbe 1 is not resolved. Both were built ca. 900–1050, when the Great Terrace experienced an intensive construction period (Cobos and Winemiller 2001, 287, fig 5). If they were not built at the same time, then the sacbe is probably later (Braswell and Peniche May 2012; Pérez de Heredia 2010, 192–193). 8. Two of the five jaguar sculptures found in the Cenote have the typical jaguar spot pattern. The others are too eroded to detect any patterns. 9. Fire rituals were common throughout the Maya area and recorded in hieroglyphic inscriptions at Chichen. Some ninth- and tenth-century inscriptions on 150

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buildings and monuments south of the Great Terrace reference deities participating in fire ceremonies such as calendric rituals and building dedications (Coggins 1987; Grube and Krochock 2011; Plank 2004). 10. Animals represented in the tableau, frog (“Uo”) and Jaguar (“Balam”) are components of Maya royal names and regalia. 11. Cremated remains in the Cenote also may be evidence of secondary burials (Anda 2007; Tiesler 2005). Interestingly, early ethnohistoric accounts of Yucatec sacrifice and human depositions in cenotes correspond with human remains in the Sacred Cenote (Scholes and Adams 1938). 12. Embedded in the Sacbe 1 wall are reliefs of feathered serpents, a jaguar, human figures both alive and defleshed, human phalli, and a human skull and two crossed bones (Pérez de Heredia 1994, 21–26). Clearly, these subjects parallel some elements of the animal tableau and the sacrifices that were presumed to have occurred in conjunction with Cenote rituals.

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Folan, William J., David D. Bolles, and Jerald D. Ek. 2016. “On the Trail of Quetzalcoatl/Kukulcan: Tracing Mythic Interaction Routes and Networks in the Maya Lowlands.” Ancient Mesoamerica 27 (2): 293–318. Förstemann, Ernst. 1880. Die Maya Handschrift der Königlichen öffentlichen Bibliothek zu Dresden: Mit 74 Tafeln in Chromo-Lightdruck. Leipzig: Verlag der A. Naumannschen Licht-druckeret. Freidel, David A., Linda Schele, and Joy Parker. 1993. Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman’s Path. New York: William Morrow. Fuente, Beatriz de la, Silvia Trejo, and Nelly Gutiérrez. 1988. Escultura en piedra de Tula. Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Estéticas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Girard, Rafael. 1995. People of the Chan. Chino Valley, AZ: Continuum Foundation. Gonlin, Nan, and April Nowell (eds.). 2018. Archaeology of the Night: Life after Dark in the Ancient World. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Goris, Richard C. 2011. “Infrared Organs of Snakes: An Integral Part of Vision.” Journal of Herpetology 45 (1): 2–14. Grube, Nikolai, and Ruth Krochock. 2011. “Reading between the Lines: Hieroglyphic Texts from Chichén Itzá and Its Neighbors.” In Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World, rev. ed., edited by Jeff Karl Kowalski and Cynthia Kristan-Graham, 157–193. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Grube, Nikolai, and Werner Nahm. 1994. “A Census of Xibalba: A Complete Inventor of Way Characters on Maya Ceramics.” In The Maya Vase Book: A Corpus of Rollout Photographs of Maya Vases, edited by Barbara Kerr and Justin Kerr, 4:686–715. New York: Kerr Associates. Guernsey Kappelman, Julia. 2000. “Late Formative Toad Altars as Ritual Stages.” Mexicon 22 (4): 80–84. Guernsey, Julia, John E. Clark, and Barbara Arroyo (eds.). 2010. The Place of Stone Monuments: Context, Use, and Meaning in Mesoamerica’s Preclassic Transition. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Harrison, Peter. 2001. “Thrones and Throne Structures in the Central Acropolis of Tikal as an Expression of the Royal Court.” In Royal Courts of the Ancient Maya, edited by Takeshi Inomata and Stephen D. Houston, 2:74–101. Boulder: Westview Press. Inomata, Takeshi. 2006. “Plazas, Performers, and Spectators: Political Theaters of the Classic Maya.” Current Anthropology 47:805–842. Johnson, Scott A. J. 2013. Translating Maya Hieroglyphs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.

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Kaufman, Terrence, and William Norman. 1984. “An Outline of Proto-Cholan Phonology, Morphology, and Vocabulary.” In Phoneticism in Maya Hieroglyphic Writing, edited by John S. Justeson and Lyle Campbell, 77–166. Publication 9. Albany: Institute for Mesoamerican Studies, State University of New York, Albany. Keller, Angela. 2006. “Roads to the Center: The Design, Use, and Meaning of the Roads of Xunantunich, Belize.” PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Kettunen, Harri, and Bon V. Davis II. 2004. “Snakes, Centipedes, Snakepedes, and Centiserpents: Conflation of Liminal Species in Maya Iconography and Ethnozoology.” Wayeb Notes 9. https://www.wayeb.org/notes/wayeb_notes0009.pdf. Klauber, Laurence. 1972. Rattlesnakes: Their Habitats, Life Histories, and Influence on Mankind. Berkeley: University of California Press. Klein, Cecelia. 1987. “The Ideology of Autosacrifice at the Templo Mayor.” In The Aztec Templo Mayor, edited by Elizabeth H. Boone, 293–370. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Kowalski, Jeff Karl, and Cynthia Kristan-Graham (eds.). 2011. Twin Tollans: Chichén Itzá, Tula, and the Epiclassic to Early Postclassic Mesoamerican World. Rev. ed. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Kristan-Graham, Cynthia. 2001. “A Sense of Place at Chichen Itza.” In Landscape and Power in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Rex Koontz, Kathryn Reese-Taylor, and Annabeth Headrick, 317–369. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Landau, Kristin. 2016. “Maintaining the State: Centralized Power and Ancient Neighborhoods in Copán, Honduras.” PhD diss., Northwestern University, Evanston. Lewis, J. G. E. 1981. The Biology of Centipedes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Liano, Dante. 1988. Literatura y funcionalidad cultural en Fray Diego de Landa. Rome: Bulzonu Editore. Liu, R. T., S. S. Liawand, and P. K. Maini. 2006. “Two-Stage Turing Model for Generating Pigment Patterns on the Leopard and the Jaguar.” Physical Review 74 (1): 011914. López Luján, Leonardo, and Giacomo Chiari. 2012. “Color in Monumental Mexica Sculpture.” Res 61/62: 330–342. Love, Bruce. 2012. Maya Shamanism Today: Connecting with the Cosmos in Rural Yucatan, 2nd rev ed. San Francisco: Precolumbia Mesoweb Press. Macri, Martha J., and Matthew George Looper. 2003. The New Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs: The Classic Period Inscriptions. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Martínez Hernández, Juan (ed.). 1929. Diccionario de Motul-Español. Atribuido a Fray Antonio de Ciudad Real y Arte de lengua Maya par Fray Juan Coronel. Merida: Compañía Tiopgráfica Yucateca. 154

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Martos López, Luis Alberto. 2010. “Objects Cast into Cenotes.” In Fiery Pool: The Maya and the Mythic Sea, edited by Daniel Finamore and Stephen D. Houston, 223–225. Salem, MA: Peabody Essex Museum. McAtee, Waldo L. 1917. “Showers of Organic Matter.” Monthly Weather Review 45 (May): 217–224. Milbrath, Susan. 1999. Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars. Austin: University of Texas Press. Miller, Mary. 2012. The Art of Mesoamerica from Olmec to Aztec. London: Thames and Hudson. Miller, Mary. 2017. “Disk G, Disk H, Disk F.” In Golden Kingdoms: Luxury Arts in the Ancient Americas, edited by Joanne Pillsbury, Timothy Potts, and Kim N. Richter, 234–236. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Museum and Getty Research Institute. Miller, Virginia E. 2007. “Skeletons, Skulls, and Bones in the Art of Chichén Itzá.” In New Perspectives on Human Sacrifice and Ritual Body Treatment in Ancient Maya Society, edited by Vera Tiesler and Andrea Cucina, 165–189. New York: Springer. Morris, Ann Axtell. 1931. “Murals from the Temple of the Warriors and Adjacent Structures.” In The Temple of the Warriors at Chichen Itza, Yucatan, edited by Earl H. Morris, Jean Charlot, and Ann A. Morris, 1:349–484. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 406. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Munro, Paul George, and Maria de Lourdes Melo Zurita. 2011. “The Role of Cenotes in the Social History of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula.” Environment and History 17:583–612. Nicholson, H. B. 2001. Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl: The Once and Future Lord of the Toltecs. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Pasztory, Esther. 1983. Aztec Art. New York: Henry N. Abrams. Paxton, Meredith. 2001. The Cosmos of the Yucatec Maya: Cycles and Steps from the Madrid Codex. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Pérez de Heredia Puente, Eduardo J. 1994. Sacbe 1 Excavación: Trabajo Realizados Temporada 1993–1994. Proyecto Chichén Itzá. Informe Fondo Nacional Arqueologíco. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Pérez de Heredia Puente, Eduardo J. 2008. “Chen K’u: La Cerámica del Cenote Sagrado de Chichén Itzá.” FAMSI report. http://www.famsi.org/reports/97061/. Pérez de Heredia Puente, Eduardo J. 2010. “Ceramic Contexts and Chronology at Chichen Itza, Yucatan, Mexico.” PhD diss., La Trobe University, Melbourne, Australia. Pérez de Heredia Puente, Eduardo J., and Jorge Victoria Ojeda. 1995. “El Silencio del Obispo.” Paper presented at V Encuentro de los Investigadores de la Cultura Maya, Campeche, Mexico.

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Piña Chan, Roman. 1970. Informe preliminary de la reciente exploración del Cenote Sagrado de Chichén Itzá. Serie Investigacioes 24. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Plank, Shannon. 2004. Maya Dwellings in Hieroglyphs and Archaeology: An Integrative Approach to Ancient Architecture and Spatial Cognition. BAR International Series 1324. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Price, T. Douglas, Vera Tiesler, and Carolyn Freiwald. 2019. “Place of Origin of the Sacrificial Victims in the Sacred Cenote, Chichén Itzá, Mexico.” American Journal of Physical Anthropology 170:98–115. Proskouriakoff, Tatiana. 1974. Jades from the Cenote of Sacrifice, Chichen Itza, Yucatan. Memoirs of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, vol. 10, no. 1. Cambridge: Harvard University. Rada y Delgado, Juan de Dios de la, D. Jerónimo López de Ayala y del Hierro, and Vizconde de Palazuelos. 1892. Códice maya denomindo cortesiano se conserva en el Museo Arqueológico Nacional; reproducción fotocromolitográfia ordenada en la misma forma que el original. Madrid: Museo Arqueológico Nacional. Redfield, Robert. 1941. The Folk Culture of Yucatan. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Redfield, Robert, and Alfonso Villa Rojas. 1934. Chan Kom: A Maya Village. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 448. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Restall, Matthew, and John Chuchiak IV. 2002. “A Reevaluation of the Authenticity of Fray Diego de Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatán.” Ethnohistory 49 (3): 651–669. Rice, Prudence M. 2018. “Epiclassic Material Perspectives on the Itzas.” In Historical and Archaeological Perspectives on the Itzas of Petén, Guatemala, edited by Prudence M. Rice and Don S. Rice, 114–133. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Ringle, William R. 2017. “Debating Chichen Itza.” Ancient Mesoamerica 28 (1): 119–136. Ringle, William R., Tomás Gallareta Negrón, and George J. Bey. 1998. “The Return of Quetzalcoatl: Evidence for the Spread of a World Religion during the Epiclassic Period.” Ancient Mesoamerica 9 (2): 183–232. Rodríguez-Mejía, Fredy R., and James D. Sexton. 2010. “Depiction of Animals in the Popol Vuh and Current Mayan Folktales.” Latin American Indian Literatures Journal 26 (1): 1–26. Roys, Ralph L. 1967. The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Ruppert, Karl. 1952. Chichen Itza Architectural Notes and Plans. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 595. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. 156

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Salazar Lama, Daniel. 2017. “Maya Lords and the Recreation of Mythical Episodes on Sculptural Programs Integrated in Architecture.” Estudios de Cultura Maya 49:165–199. Sánchez de Aguilar, Pedro. 1987. “Informe contra idolorum cultores del Obispado de Yucatán.” In Anales del Museo Nacional de México, 5–122. Mexico: Instituto Nacional Indigenista. Saunders, Nicholas J. 1994. “Predators of Culture: Jaguar Symbolism and Mesoamerican Elites.” World Archaeology 26 (1): 104–117. Schele, Linda. 1992. Workbook for the Sixteenth Maya Hieroglyphic Workshop at Texas. Austin: Department of Art History and the Institute of Latin American Studies, University of Texas at Austin. Scholes, France, and Eleanor Adams. 1938. Don Diego Quejada, alcalde mayor de Yucatán, 1561–1655. Mexico City: José Porrúa e Hijos. Schwartz, George, and Karl A. Taube. 2010. “Object 94.” In Fiery Pool: The Maya and the Mythic Sea, edited by Daniel Finamore and Stephen D. Houston, 27. Salem, MA: Peabody Essex Museum. Sharpe, Ashley E., Kitty F. Emery, Takeshi Inomata, Daniela Triadan, George D. Kamenov, and John Krigbaum. 2018. “Earliest Isotopic Evidence in the Maya Region for Animal Management and Long-Distance Trade at the Site of Ceibal, Guatemala.” PNAS 115 (14): 3605–3610. Smith, J. Gregory, and Tara Bond-Freeman. 2018. “In the Shadow of Quetzalcoatl: How Small Communities in Northern Yucatan Responded to the Chichen Itza Phenomenon.” In Landscapes of the Itza: Archaeology and Art History at Chichen Itza and Neighboring Sites, edited by Linnea Wren, Cynthia Kristan-Graham, Travis Nygard, and Kaylee Spencer, 138–170. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Šprajc, Ivan. 2015. “Astronomical Correlates of Architecture and Landscape in Mesoamerica.” In Handbook of Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoarchaeology, edited by Clive L. N. Ruggles, 715–728. New York: Springer Science+Business Media. Stirling, Matthew W. 1943. “Stone Monuments of Southern Mexico.” Smithsonian Institution Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 138: 1–84. Stone, Andrea, and Mark Zender. 2011. Reading Maya Art: A Hieroglyphic Guide to Ancient Maya Painting and Sculpture. New York: Thames and Hudson. Sugiyama, Nawa, William L. Fash, and Christine A. M. France. 2018. “Jaguar and Puma Captivity and Trade among the Maya: Stable Isotope Data from Copan, Honduras.” PLoS ONE 13 (9): e0202958. Taube, Karl. 2003. “Maws of Heaven and Hell: The Symbolism of the Centipede and Serpent in Classic Maya Religion.” In Antropología de la Eternidad: La Muerte en la Cultura Maya, edited by Andrés Ciudad Ruiz, Mario Humberto Ruz Sosa, and

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Ma. Josefa Iglesias Ponce de León, 405–442. Madrid: Sociedad Española de Estudios Mayas; Centro de Estudios Mayas, Instituto de Investigaciones Filolológicas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de Mexico. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1970. Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Thornton, Erin Kennedy, and Arthur A. Demarest. 2019. “At Water’s Edge: Ritual Maya Animal Use in Aquatic Contexts at Cancuen, Guatemala.” Ancient Mesoamerica 30 (3): 473–491. Tiesler, Vera. 2005. “What Can the Bones Really Tell Us? The Study of Human Skeletal Remains from Cenotes.” In Stone Houses and Earth Lords: Maya Religion in the Cave Context, edited by Keith M. Prufer and James E. Brady, 341–363. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Tiesler, Vera. 2017. Cráneos perforados y tzompantlis en Chichén Itzá. Arqueología Mexicana 25:46–51. Tiesler, Vera, and Andrea Cucina. 2012. “Where Are the Warriors? Cranial Trauma Patterns and Conflict among the Ancient Maya.” In The Bioarchaeology of Violence, edited by D. L. Martin, R. P. Harrod, and V. R. Pérez, 160–179. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Tozzer, Alfred M., 1941. Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatán: A Translation. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 18. Cambridge: Harvard University. Tozzer, Alfred M. 1957. Chichen Itza and Its Cenote of Sacrifice, A Comparative Study of Contemporaneous Maya and Toltec. Memoirs of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 11–12. Cambridge: Harvard University. Tozzer, Alfred M., and Glover M. Allen. 1910. Animal Figures in the Maya Codices. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol. 4, no. 3. Cambridge: Harvard University. Vail, Gabrielle, and Anthony Aveni. 2004. “Research Methodologies and New Approaches to Interpreting the Madrid Codex.” In The Madrid Codex: New Approaches to Understanding an Ancient Maya Manuscript, edited by Gabrielle Vail and Anthony F. Aveni, 1–30. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Vail, Gabrielle, and Matthew G. Looper. 2015. “World Renewal Rituals among the Postclassic Yucatec Maya and Contemporary Ch’orti’ Maya.” Estudios de Cultural Maya 45:121–140. Villa Rojas, Alfonso. 1945. The Maya of East Central Quintana Roo. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 559. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington.

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Vogt, Evon Z., and David Stuart. 2005. “Some Notes on Ritual Caves among the Ancient and Modern Maya.” In In the Maw of the Earth Monster: Mesoamerican Ritual Cave Use, edited by James E. Brady and Keith M. Prufer, 155–185. Austin: University of Texas Press. Volta, Beniamino, and Geoffrey E. Braswell. 2014. “Alternative Narratives and Missing Data: Refining the Chronology of Chichen Itza.” In The Ancient Maya and Their Central American Neighbors: Settlement Patterns, Architecture, Hieroglyphic Texts, and Ceramics, edited by Geoffrey E. Braswell, 356–402. London: Routledge. Volta, Beniamino, Nancy Peniche May, and Geoffrey Braswell. 2018. “The Archaeology of Chichen Itza: Its History, What We Like to Argue About, and What We Think We Know.” In Landscapes of the Itza: Archaeology and Art History at Chichen Itza and Neighboring Sites, edited by Linnea Wren, Cynthia Kristan-Graham, Travis Nygard, and Kaylee Spencer, 28–64. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Willard, Theodore Arthur. 1926. The City of the Sacred Well. New York: Century Co. Winning, Hasso. 1985. Two Maya Monuments in Yucatan: The Palace of the Stuccoes at Acanceh and the Temple of the Owls at Chichen Itza. Los Angeles: Southwest Museum. Wisdom, Charles. 1940. The Chorti Indians of Guatemala. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wren, Linnea H. 1989. “Ceremonialism in the Reliefs of the North Temple, Chichen Itza.” In Seventh Palenque Round Table, edited by Merle Greene Robertson and Virginia Fields, 25–32. San Francisco: Pre-Columbian Art Research Institute. Wren, Linnea, Cynthia Kristan-Graham, Travis Nygard, and Kaylee Spencer (eds.). 2018. Landscapes of the Itza: Archaeology and Art History at Chichen Itza and Neighboring Sites. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Wren, Linnea H., and Peter D. Schmidt. 1991. “Elite Interaction during the Terminal Classic Period: New Evidence from Chichen Itza.” In Classic Maya Political History: Archaeological and Hieroglyphic Evidence, edited by T. Patrick Culbert, 199–225. School of American Research Advanced Seminar Series. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wren, Linnea, Kaylee Spencer, and Krysta Hochsteller. 2001. “Political Rhetoric and the Unification of Natural Geography, Cosmic Space, and Gender Spheres.” In Landscape and Power in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Rex Koontz, Kathryn Reese-Taylor, and Annabeth Headrick, 257–277. Boulder, CO: Westview. Zielinski, Sarah. 2015. “Strange Rain: Why Fish, Frogs, and Golf Balls Fall from the Skies.” Smithsonian Magazine, September 8. https://www.smithsonianmag.com /science-nature/strange-rain-why-fish-frogs-and-golf-balls-fall-skies-180956527/.

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6 Iconography and Symbolism of Frogs and Toads in the Aztec World and Beyond Elizabeth Baquedano

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Images of frogs and toads are abundant in Mesoamerican iconography and are found in a variety of materials that come from many different time periods.1 Their representation in Aztec stone sculptures that date to the Postclassic period is the primary focus of this chapter, but comparative examples from other Mesoamerican cultures are also included for a broader perspective. In ancient Mesoamerica frogs and toads came to represent an embodiment of the earth, agricultural fertility, and seasonality. These and other symbolic aspects are discussed in the sections that follow. Frog and toad sculptures come in many sizes, from small to colossal (3–130 cm). Early examples of these sculptures appear at the site of Izapa, in Chiapas, where they date back to the late Preclassic period, ca. 300 BC to AD 250 (Guernsey 2006, 1). Toads were carved on what have been called toad altars, and they also appear in relief carvings on stelae. The relief sculptures of toads at Izapa are large, approximately 120 cm long and 80 cm wide, and, according to Julia Guernsey (2006, 125), Stela 6 is readily identifiable as a representation of Bufo marinus (Rhinella marina), the giant toad or cane toad of the family Bufonidae, “by the pitted parotid glands on its back, which burps forth an object from its open maw” (figure 6.1). She notes that the altars representing toads “were understood to be vibrant components of the late Preclassic ritual environment” (Guernsey 2006, 126). It has been argued that Olmec art represents toads among the many images formerly referred to https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c006

Figure 6.1. Bufo marinus (Rhinella marina). Courtesy Mark Brenner.

as “were-jaguars,” and remains of B. marinus (R. marina) are evident at San Lorenzo (Coe and Diehl 1980; Pool 2007, 59). There are not too many representations of frogs in the Olmec culture; in contrast there are many carvings of frogs and toads in the Classic Maya. Some even adorned with jewelry, such as a beautiful example from Tayasal, can be seen in the Museo Nacional de Arqueología y Etnología, Guatemala City (cat. no. 1.1.1.535). Another area where representations of frogs and toads are abundant is west Mexico, for example, at the Classic-period site of La Campana in the state of Colima. Toad and frog ceramic vessels are often found in shaft-tomb contexts (AD 200–600). During the first century of the Epiclassic period (AD 700–800), especially at Cacaxtla in Tlaxcala, frog and toad imagery is used in mural painting in a realistic way, yet imbued in rich symbolism as observed in the mural paintings at the Red Temple. A pair of Mixtec seated frogs made from clay in the Dallas Museum of Fine Arts (cat. nos. 1969.13.1, 1969.13.2) were reportedly found with a ceramic sculpture of the rain god in a cave at Postclassic Teotitlán del Camino, Oaxaca. These two frogs, measuring 47 cm in height and 45.7 cm in width, are unusual

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because they are depicted in almost menacing attitude, with eyeballs, long red tongues, and fangs and teeth. The use of frogs (and possibly toads) as a source of food is clear in ethnohistorical accounts. In the sixteenth century Friar Bernardino de  Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:62) described the frog as follows: “It is black, dark; it has hands, it has feet. It is big bellied. It is edible. It can be skinned. It is called cueyatl.” Ancient Mesoamerican peoples were keen observers of nature and of the habits of animals such as frogs and toads. They were aware that these amphibians undergo metamorphosis and display special behaviors, such as shedding their skin, which they then often eat. People were also aware that frogs and toads are most active during the rainy season, and for this reason they were associated with seasonality. Their mating behavior, which involves active calling by males, ultimately leads to large numbers of eggs being deposited and fertilized, resulting in numerous tadpoles. The highly visible (and audible) reproductive cycle of amphibians made them powerful symbols of fecundity and regeneration of life.

AMPHIBIANS OF MESOAMERICA

There are more than 350 species of amphibians in Mexico alone, so it is not surprising that these animals were depicted in the material culture of the region. The class Amphibia in Mesoamerica includes representatives of the orders Gymnophiona (legless caecilians), Caudata (salamanders), and Anura (frogs and toads), the latter being my subject of study here.2 Uo toads (Rhinophrynus dorsalis, the Mexican burrowing toad or nose toad) are found in many areas of the Americas, but they are particularly well known in the Maya region.3 They are unique in being the only species within the family Rhinophrynidae. They can remain underground for extended periods, from a month to two years, with their head facing skyward (Schlesinger 2001, 274). Their burrowing underground during the dry season may have resulted in a connection with Tlaltecuhtli (sometimes referred to as the “earth monster”). Gerónimo de Mendieta (1980, 81) wrote: “The Mexicans considered the earth a goddess, and they painted her as a fierce frog with mouths on the joints full of blood, they say that she ate and swallowed everything” (author’s translation). This sixteenth-century chronicler made a direct link between the Tlaltecuhtli and frogs, and probably the same connection would apply to toads. The underground pose with the head thrown “skyward” of Rhinophrynus dorsalis may also be seen in the monumental Aztec sculptures of Tlaltecuhtli (Baquedano 1993; 2022). The present author has studied the corpus of Tlaltecuhtli representations, 162

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Figure 6.2. Digital scan of the Monolith of Tlaltecuhtli. Courtesy Saburo Sugiyama, Leonardo López Luján, and Proyecto Templo Mayor.

and usually the head is thrown backward (Baquedano 1993; see Klein, chapter 3, for a different interpretation of the head position). The Templo Mayor (Great Temple) Tlaltecuhtli is therefore unique in several ways: it is carved with an Aztec calendar date, 12 Rabbit (two groups of circles: 10 and 2). The date is enigmatic (López Luján 2010: 96). It is the largest Aztec sculpture ever found, and it is represented frontally and buried with its head facing skyward (figure 6.2). This very large Tlaltecuhtli may emulate the pose adopted by toads in the dry months, in the “dead months,” with its head facing skyward. Other relief sculptures of Tlaltecuhtli also seem toad-like, for they are represented in a dorsal view, with the head thrown back, as in the Templo Mayor sculpture of Tlaltecuhtli (cat. no. 10-220483; Nicholson and Quiñones Keber 1983, plate 13). The fierce representation of the Tlaltecuhtli relief sculptures may also be linked with earth symbolism related to Uo toads. These toads may have been symbolic of strength among the Aztecs because they are able to survive I CO N O G R A P H Y A N D S Y M B O LI S M O F F RO G S A N D T OA D S I N T H E A Z T E C WO R LD

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underground in the dry months, during which they await the arrival of the rainy season. When they do emerge, males can be recognized by their loud, low-pitched mating call. These toads are active above ground only in the reproductive period, whereas they typically spend the rest of the year underground. Other toads that seem to be represented in the art of central Mexico include the Bufo valliceps (Incilius valliceps), the Gulf Coast toad. Smaller than R. marina, it is distinguished by having much smaller parotid glands than the giant toad and possesses a line of pointed “warts” that extend from the parotid gland to the animal’s groin. Further discussion of the morphology of Bufo toads is presented in a section on toad symbolism that follows. Frogs are also represented in the art of central Mexico, so a brief review of their traits is relevant to the symbolism discussed in the next section. One group of frogs that is widely distributed in North America and Central America are the “true frogs” of the family Ranidae, which contains the socalled leopard frogs in the genus Rana (Lithobates). The genus includes a number of species, many of which are characterized by dark blotches or spots on the body. These semiaquatic amphibians are often found along the edges of lakes, ponds, and flowing waters and are prodigious jumpers. This species-rich group is the subject of ongoing phylogenetic investigations. One such frog from the Valley of Mexico is Rana tlaloci (Lithobates tlaloci), Tlaloc’s leopard frog. The frog’s scientific nomenclature is drawn from the name of the Aztec rain god, Tlaloc. David Hillis and John Frost (1985, 10–11) note that this frog was once distributed in what is now Mexico City and the State of Mexico. Today it may exist only in freshwater Lake Xochimilco, and it is considered highly endangered, or perhaps extinct, as a consequence of widespread recent urban development. It is not clear whether this frog was represented in Aztec material culture.

ALTAR OF THE FROGS AT TEMPLO MAYOR

With this basic understanding of frog and toad morphology and behavior, we turn to discussion of one of the most important artistic representations of frogs, one that is found in architectural contexts in Templo Mayor, the Aztec (Mexica) capital of Tenochtitlan. The Altar of the Frogs is an architectural structure that delineates part of the space dedicated to Tlaloc, the god of rain.4 The construction is known as the Altar of the Frogs because of the amphibianlike sculptures represented on the platform (figures 6.3a, 6.3b, 6.3c). The structure imitates a staircase with its balustrades. The mock staircase measures 1.05 m high and 2.92 m wide.5 According to Felipe Solís (1991, 164

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Figure 6.3a. Altar of the Frogs. Courtesy Leonardo López Luján. Figure 6.3b. Chromatic reconstruction of the frogs, Altar of the Frogs, Templo Mayor. Courtesy Leonardo López Luján. Figure 6.3c. Frog from the Altar of the Frogs showing the cavity where standards would have been placed. Courtesy Leonardo López Luján.

114–115), these “frogs functioned as standard/flag bearers. The flags of bark paper (amate), painted with melted rubber, were placed in the frogs’ cavity” (author’s translation). I agree with Solís that the sculpted frogs were used as standard bearers (figure 6.3b), as there are other, similar examples in Mesoamerica, such as the jaguar standard bearers found at Tula that also have a cavity on their back (Diehl 1983, 67). The banners certainly would have drawn the viewer’s attention, and the bright color of the frogs no doubt had a similar effect. Describing the Altar of the Frogs, Alfredo López Austin and Leonardo López Luján (2009, 303) note that there are “remains of blue for almost the whole body, white for the eyes and the red for the line of the mouth and nostrils.” Their representation seems to reflect one of the theoretical tenets of material agency, as postulated by Alfred Gell (1998), who states that ornamentation and decoration play a role in influencing the thoughts and actions of others.6 In the case of the Altar of the Frogs, the conscious act of representing frogs and painting them in blue gives these animals the role of representatives of Tlaloc, symbolizing water and the fertility of the earth (López Austin and López Luján 2009, 616). Symbolic Location of the Altar of the Frogs. The positioning of the Altar of the Frogs in the Templo Mayor adds to its symbolic significance. López Austin and López Luján (2009, 286), in their book Monte Sagrado–Templo Mayor, note: “The frogs are found in the platform that corresponds to the slopes of the Sacred Mountain.” They explain that this level was symbolic of the interior of the cave, the doorway that allows the aquatic riches that live inside that reservoir to emerge. The authors mention a corresponding belief recorded in highland ethnography. “In the Northern Sierra of Puebla, every year people visit the spring located at the foot of the Lagartija Mountain . . . called Tepemáxak, a word that the locals translate as ‘The vagina of the mountain.’ ” The cave as a fertile opening in a mountain may be more broadly linked with amphibians. Mountains and caves have clear associations with agricultural fertility in Mesoamerica, but also with female fertility. The Maya word much designates both toad and female genitalia, according to the Cordemex Dictionary (Barrera Vásquez 1980, 532). Both the high fecundity of amphibia and the vagina as a procreation conduit reference biological fertility. Biological Identification of the Amphibians of the Altar of the Frogs. Hillis and Frost (1985, 10–11) identify the frog species represented in the Altar of the Frogs of Tenochtitlan as the subgroup R. (Lithobates) neovolcanica within the R. berlandieri group, not the rare R. tlaloci species also found in the region. Biologist Norma Valentín confirms that the two sculptures represent male 166

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frogs, based on the inflated gular region, but does not identify the species (López Austin and López Luján 2009, 303). As mentioned previously, there is ongoing phylogenetic research on frogs of the genus Rana (Lithobates), so species-level identification of depicted individuals is challenging. Frogs were associated with the rainy season and therefore with Tlaloc and agricultural fertility. Tlaloc, as a god of rain, required the presence of objects related to water, fertility, and the earth (Baquedano 1989, 1993), and the earth deity, Tlaltecuhtli, is sometimes depicted in images that merge with Tlaloc because they share the iconographic traits of the rain god (Baquedano 1993, 159). The sculptures of frogs, above all, stand for fertility. The Aztecs observed and promoted this concept in a visible way in their religious structures and in a hidden way in their offerings.7

SKELETAL REMAINS OF AMPHIBIANS IN ARCHAEOLOGICAL CONTEXTS

Frogs and toads are not abundant in the excavations of the Templo Mayor (López Luján, personal communication 2018). Ticul Álvarez and Aurelio Ocaña (1991, 128) mention that skeletal remains of only four toads (Bufo sp.) were found at the Templo Mayor in Tenochtitlan, all in Offering 23. López Luján (1993, 327) notes that these remains are clearly associated with Tlaloc and his domain because the offering was found on the Tlaloc side of the temple. Offering 23 corresponds to Complex A of López Luján’s classification (1993, 325), which includes eleven offerings located in the main axis of construction Stage IVb of the Aztec Templo Mayor. According to López Luján (2006, 1:221), the only other amphibian remains were found in the House of the Eagles, inside Incense Burner 10, and “the bones were very fragmented and burnt, which made its taxonomic identification difficult.” López Luján mentioned that (2006, 1:221) this amphibian “represents only 0.20% of the collection” of the House of the Eagles. The association of an incense burner and Tlaloc is important because of the widespread association between incense burning and clouds that bring rainfall. According to Allen Christenson (2001), among the Tz’utujil Maya of Santiago Atitlan, Guatemala, the smoke produced when burning incense symbolizes clouds of rain that are generated inside the sacred mountains. This relates to the promotion of rain through the burning of incense, especially notable in central Mexican incense burners with the iconography of Tlaloc. The incense burners found at Tenochtitlan and at Tula are nearly identical, both depicting Tlaloc iconography (Diehl 1983, 122). The discovery of four toads in Offering 23, I CO N O G R A P H Y A N D S Y M B O LI S M O F F RO G S A N D T OA D S I N T H E A Z T E C WO R LD

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on Tlaloc’s side of the Templo Mayor, and the burned amphibian in Incense Burner 10 suggests the offering was placed there deliberately to indicate a connection with Tlaloc, the rain deity, and with the production of rain. MORPHOLOGY AND SYMBOLISM OF TOADS

The distinction between frogs and toads we make in scientific nomenclature may not have been so important to the Aztecs because they visualized both as symbols of fertility. This may be because the eggs produced by Anura are easy to see in the water. Toads of the genus Bufo display especially high fecundity. Females produce thousands of eggs that they deposit in water as long strings (Lee 2000, 87). Another important physiological characteristic trait Anura share is explained by Robert Stebbins and Nathan Cohen (1995, 105): Amphibians rarely drink water by mouth. They replace body water shortages chiefly by dermal absorption. The seat patch, or pelvic patch, is an area of thinned vascularized skin on the posterior underside of the body, particularly evident in toads (Bufo), which is specialized for water absorption.

This seat patch allows amphibians to “drink” by sitting in a puddle or spring (figure 6.4). The amphibian’s seat patch seems to be represented in Aztec carvings. Aztec sculptors were great observers of animal anatomy and behavior and communicated, through symbols, the characteristics of amphibians and their close relationship with water. Thus, when they represented the symbol for jade (chalchihuitl) on the posterior underside of an anuran body, they represented by extension the pelvic patch that enables the animal to take in water (figure 6.5a). By analogy, it is like the roots through which plants absorb water. I hypothesize that the chalchihuitl symbol was used by Aztec sculptors as a symbol of the seat patch that absorbs water, the precious liquid. Bernardino de  Sahagún (1963, 221), in his General History of the Things of New Spain, Book 11, chapter 8, mentioned beliefs that ancient Mexicans had about precious stones such as chalchihuitl: There are people who know where it is: they can see that it is breathing, [smoking], giving off vapor. Early, at early dawn, [the sun] comes up, they find where to place themselves, where to stand; they face the sun. And when the sun has already come up, they are truly very attentive in looking. They look with diligence; they no longer blink; they look well. Wherever they can see that 168

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Figure 6.4. Location of the “seat patch.” Drawing by Natalie Wilkinson, after Stebbins and Cohen (1995, 106, fig. 12.1b).

Figure 6.5a. Underside of Aztec Toad with chalchihuitl symbol on its belly. Photograph by Claudia Obrocki. Courtesy Ethnologisches Museen zu Berlin.

Figure 6.5b. Aztec Toad. Photograph by Claudia Obrocki. Courtesy Ethnologisches Museen zu Berlin. something like a little smoke [column] stands, that one of them is giving off vapor, this one is the precious stone.

It is clear that the chalchihuitl is associated with humidity and with water, among many other meanings, depending on context. There are at least two toad sculptures with the chalchihuitl symbol. One in the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City (cat. no. 11.0-10-603; dimensions: 19 cm × 51 cm) is illustrated in Gendrop and Díaz Balerdi (1994, 84). The other, illustrated here (figures 6.5a, 6.5b, 6.5c), is in the Ethnological Museum in Berlin (cat. no. IV Ca 44331; dimensions: 0.315 cm × 0.47 cm × 0.34 cm).

REPRESENTATIONS OF FROGS ON RITUAL GARMENTS

A small number of ritual garments have been found at the Templo Mayor, and some of these are related to Tlaloc and the aquatic world of frogs. María de  Lourdes Gallardo Parrodi (2014) studied a group of ritual garments made with mother of pearl shell (Pinctada mazatlanica) that were found in 170

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Figure 6.5c. Aztec Toad. Photograph by Claudia Obrocki. Courtesy Ethnologisches Museen zu Berlin.

the Templo Mayor of the Aztecs among the four offerings associated with Chamber 2, Chamber 3, Offering 24, and Offering 88, corresponding to Stage IVb of the Templo Mayor. Gallardo considered five groupings of pearl oyster shell plaques found in the above-mentioned offerings, and all five are associated with Tlaloc. Before Gallardo Parrodi (2014, 13) undertook her research, the plaques had been described as pieces of a necklace (Bonifaz 1981, 51). Thanks to her reinterpretation of their use, it was possible to determine that the iridescent plaques belonged to a ritual garment sewn to a cotton textile. In Chamber 2 a ritual garment made of cotton was found with mother of pearl plaques (epnepaniuhqui, meaning joined mother of pearl) that depict frogs and serpents (figure 6.6). The pendant plaques were found along with a sculpture that depicts Tlaloc and with representations of the heads and tails of serpents. These garments, with representations of aquatic animals, may be intended to connect those who wear them with Tlaloc. I draw from Shapland’s (2010) theory and I CO N O G R A P H Y A N D S Y M B O LI S M O F F RO G S A N D T OA D S I N T H E A Z T E C WO R LD

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Figure 6.6. Frogs made in pearl oyster shell (Pinctada mazatlanica) found in Chamber 2, Templo Mayor, Tenochtitlan. Photographs by Michel Zabé. Courtesy María de Lourdes Gallardo Parrodi.

hypothesize that the Aztec garments established a connection between the person who wore them and the animal or animals represented, in this case frogs, fish, or turtles. Aztec carvings or depictions of epnepaniuhqui in codices have not survived, but similar garments were produced for Maya royalty, as seen in Piedras Negras, Panel 15.

AMPHIBIANS IN RITUAL CONTEXTS

Working at the intersection of Izazaga and Pino Suárez Streets, in what was known as the Plaza del Volador in Mexico City, Eduardo Noguera (1968) and Jordi Gussinyer (1970) found offerings that have been interpreted as deposits related to the New Fire Ceremony. In 1970 Gussinyer excavated a structure with a circular base, and in the center of the construction there was a stone box with an offering. The offering contained flint knives, agave spines, a brazier with ash remains, a frog sculpture (see López Austin and López Luján 2009, 598, fig. 7), the spines of a swordfish, rubber in a copal ball, and green beads. The circular structure is characterized by the calendar inscription 2 Reed, the date when the Mexica celebrated their last New Fire Ceremony in 1507. The New Fire Ceremony, of undeniable importance in the Mexica calendar, as described in Sahagún’s Book 7, guaranteed the continuation of the sun and of the movements of the cosmos for another 52 years. The inclusion of frog representations in the offering of the Ceremony of the New Fire ritual enables us to see that the Aztecs linked the behavior of frogs to this ritual in some way. Periodic shedding of the skin of amphibians, as they grow, was associated with the renewal of life, and in this case there seems to be an association between frogs and a new cycle of 52 years. Another ritual context where frogs are important is found in Offering H, excavated as part of the Templo Mayor Project between 1978 and 1989 (López Luján and Polaco 1991, 151). The offering was located in “Adoratorio B” in the north courtyard of the Templo Mayor and consisted of six levels. Leonardo López Luján and Óscar Polaco (1991, 156–157) stated that several objects associated with the aquatic world were found in the deepest level of Offering H. The authors did not mention amphibian remains but reported that they found small zoomorphic sculptures that represent turtles and frogs, which had been placed inside two gastropods of the species Patella (Scutellastra) mexicana, the giant Mexican limpet (López Luján and Polaco 1991, 158). The fauna deposited in the deepest offerings in the Templo Mayor and the iconography represented on the underside of some ritual sculptures known as chacmool are almost identical. The relief carved on the underside alludes to the I CO N O G R A P H Y A N D S Y M B O LI S M O F F RO G S A N D T OA D S I N T H E A Z T E C WO R LD

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Figure 6.7. Underside of Aztec chacmool. Adapted from Seler (1990–1998, 3:140, fig. 18) by Will Hart. National Museum of Anthropology, Mexico City, 24-1374; II-3013.

aquatic world (figure 6.7), matching the fauna present in offerings, particularly fish, shells, conch shells, and frogs. Once the offered objects were deposited, they were no longer visible. Neither was the relief carved on the underside, and the carved images seem to serve as a form of offering like the aquatic offerings found in the Templo Mayor. This type of chacmool (figure 6.8) shows the facial traits of the god of rain, Tlaloc, but what is more common on the underside of several chacmool sculptures is the representation of what I have identified as Tlaloc-Tlaltecuhtli (Baquedano 1989, 1993). That is to say, Tlaloc-Tlaltecuhtli reliefs are those with the iconographic traits of Tlaltecuhtli with knees bent and outstretched in the position of parturition but with the face of Tlaloc. The association of the gods of rain and the earth with amphibians proves once again the symbolic importance of such animals with regard to both the earth and water. The importance of Tlaloc-Tlaltecuhtli is seen in myths such as the one described in Teogonía e historia de los mexicanos: In order to create the god and the goddess of water, all four gods gathered together and created Tlaltecuhtli and his wife Chalchiuhtlicue; they created them as gods of water, and when . . . people needed it [water] they asked them. (Garibay 1979, 26; author’s translation)

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Figure 6.8. Aztec chacmool. National Museum of Anthropology, Mexico City, 24–1374; II-3013. Drawing by Will Hart. CONTEMPORARY RITUALS

A clear continuity of Precolumbian rituals regarding Tlaloc, frogs, and rain can be seen in contemporary rituals throughout Mesoamerica. Johanna Broda and Aurora Montúfar López (2013) mention that in Temalacatzingo, in the modern state of Guerrero (Mexico), inhabitants of the region climb a mountain to plead for rain. The ritual petition for rain lasts several days, beginning in April and ending in May. Broda and Montúfar describe in detail the stages of the ritual, its connection with the ancestral Mesoamerican cosmovision and with rituals that are associated with mountains as “water containers” of Tlaloc and of the Tlaloque. One of the important aspects of the petition for rain is the manufacture and use of amaranth paste, images of children (“angelitos”), and miniature animal representations. The use of amaranth seeds and their consumption in the festivity is reminiscent of prehispanic festivals associated with the gods of rain, such as the veintena festival of Atemoztli. As expected, depictions of toads and frogs and other aquatic animals are prevalent in rituals with intention of propitiating rain (Broda and Montúfar López 2013, 137).

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CONCLUDING REMARKS

[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Clearly, freshwater fauna played an important role in the lives of ancient inhabitants of the Valley of Mexico; frogs and toads participated in the cosmovision of the inhabitants of ancient Mexico, symbolizing natural phenomena such as the alternation of seasons in Mesoamerica: Xopan (the wet season) and Tonalco (the dry season). These amphibians are linked with the Postclassic rain god, Tlaloc, and deities of the earth. The importance of these amphibians are seen throughout Preclassic Mesoamerica and continue to be represented more than two thousand years later in the Templo Mayor at Tenochtitlan, where the Aztec Frog Altar and many other material objects with amphibian traits have been found in numerous offerings. The Aztecs had a special relationship with the environment. Nature was integrated into ritual life, and the archaeological record suggests that local people had deep knowledge about the frogs and toads of the region. They seem to have been especially observant of details such as the seat patch for absorbing water, depicted on the underside of frog sculptures. Amphibian behavior probably explains the ubiquity of their representation in the Mesoamerican material record. Their croaking (male mating calls) announced the coming of rains that were necessary to convert the dry earth into wet and fertile land. Acknowledgments. I thank Leonardo López Luján and Mark Brenner for their valuable comments and suggestions, Maria Gaida for the photographs of the Aztec toad in the Museum of Ethnology in Berlin, and María de  Lourdes Gallardo Parrodi for allowing me to use photographs taken by her late husband, Michel Zabé. I also thank Natalie Wilkinson and Will Hart for their drawings.

NOTES

1. The distinction between frogs and toads is noted by Zug and Duellman (2021): “Like frogs, toads are amphibians. The name frog is commonly applied to those forms with long legs and smooth mucus-covered skins. The name toad is used for a variety of robust short-legged forms, especially those with rough skins.” 2. Another common frog family found in the Mesoamerican area is the Leptodactylidae, known by an assortment of common names: robber frogs, nest-building frogs, stream frogs, and rain frogs (Lee 2000). Another group in the region includes the tree frogs and leaf frogs of the family Hylidae. There are also representatives of the family Microhylidae, the so-called narrow-mouth toads and sheep frogs, as well as a glass frog 176

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of the family Centrolenidae. This incomplete list of frog and toad families speaks to the diversity of anurans in the region. 3. Jonathan Campbell (1998, 47) describes the burrowing toad (Rhinophrynus dorsalis) this way: “Other vernacular names for the burrowing toad include uo or wo, sapo borracho, cameleon, and sapo cavador. Sapo borracho means inebriated toad, a name alluding to the call of males during the breeding season, which sounds like a drawn out whooooaa—the sound from which its Mayan name, wo, is derived.” For more on frog iconography among Maya, see chapter 5, this volume. 4. The altar of the frogs corresponds to Eduardo Matos Moctezuma’s (1988, 74–75) construction Stage IVb of the Templo Mayor of the Aztecs, ca. AD 1469. 5. In Spanish “remeda una escalinata con sus alfardas” (López Austin and López Luján, 2009, 303). 6. In the study of phenomenology, it is important to observe the location of structures and objects (Solomon 2001, 19–25). This theoretical approach focuses on the conscious selection of specific objects and the importance they have through direct experience—that is, the role that the objects play in religious or ritual contexts. 7. Evidence has been marshaled in other cultural contexts that establishes a connection between the man and the animal depicted (Shapland 2010, 119). Close observations by humans lead to depictions of animals that become part of the iconographic repertoire and take on symbolic meaning.

REFERENCES

Álvarez, Ticul, and Aurelio Ocaña. 1991. “Restos óseos de vertebrados terrestres de las ofrendas del Templo Mayor, ciudad de México.” In La fauna en el Templo Mayor, edited by Óscar J. Polaco, 105–147. Mexico City: INAH/Asociación de Amigos del Templo Mayor/GV Editores. Baquedano, Elizabeth. 1989. “Aztec Death Sculpture.” PhD diss., University of London. Baquedano, Elizabeth. 1993. “Aspects of Death Symbolism in Aztec Tlaltecuhtli.” In The Symbolism in the Plastic and Pictorial Representations of Ancient Mexico: A Symposium of the 46th International Congress of Americanists, Amsterdam 1988, edited by Jacqueline de Durand-Forest and Marc Eisinger, 157–184. Bonn: Holos Verlag. Baquedano, Elizabeth. 2022. “Ranas y sapos: Simbolismo entre los mexicas.” In Los animales y el recinto sagrado de Tenochtitlan, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma and Leonardo López Luján. Mexico City: El Colegio Nacional. Barrera Vásquez, Alfredo (ed.). 1980. Diccionario Maya Cordemex: Maya-Español, Español-Maya. Merida: Ediciones Cordemex.

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Bonifaz Nuño, Rubén. 1981. El Arte en el Templo Mayor: México-Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Broda, Johanna, and Aurora Montúfar López. 2013. “Figuritas de amaranto en ofrendas mesoamericanas de petición de lluvias en Temalacatzingo, Guerrero.” In Identidad a través de la cultura alimentaria, coordinated by Montserrat Gispert, 131–153. Mexico City: Conabio. Campbell, Jonathan A. 1998. Amphibians and Reptiles of Northern Guatemala, the Yucatan, and Belize. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Christenson, Allen J. 2001. Art and Society in a Highland Maya Community: The Altarpiece of Santiago Atlitlán. Austin: University of Texas Press. Coe, Michael D., and Richard Diehl. 1980. The Land of the Olmec. Vol. 2, People of the River. Austin: University of Texas Press. Diehl, Richard. 1983. Tula: The Toltec Capital of Ancient Mexico. London: Thames and Hudson. Gallardo Parrodi, María de Lourdes. 2014. “Las prendas de concha nacarada del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” PhD diss., Facultad de Filosofía y Letras, UNAM. Garibay K., Ángel Ma. 1979. Teogonía e historia de los mexicanos: Tres opúsculos del siglo XVI. Mexico City: Porrúa. Gell, Alfred. 1998. Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Gendrop, Paul, and Iñaki Díaz Balerdi. 1994. Escultura Azteca: una aproximación a su estética. Mexico City: Trillas. Guernsey, Julia. 2006. Ritual and Power in Stone: The Performance of Rulership in Mesoamerican Izapan Style Art. Austin: University of Texas Press. Gussinyer, Jordi. 1970. “Un adoratorio dedicado a Tlaloc.” Boletín INAH 39 (March): 7–12. Hillis, David, and John Frost. 1985. Three New Species of Leopard Frogs (Rana pipiens Complex) from the Mexican Plateau. Occasional Papers of the Museum of Natural History 117. Lawrence: University of Kansas. Lee, Julian C. 2000. A Field Guide to the Amphibians and Reptiles of the Maya World: The Lowlands of Mexico, Northern Guatemala, and Belize. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. López Austin, A., and Leonardo López Luján. 2009. Monte sagrado–Templo Mayor: El cerro y la pirámide en la tradición religiosa mesoamericana. Mexico City: INAH/ UNAM-IIA. López Luján, Leonardo. 1993. Las ofrendas del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan, Mexico City: INAH. López Luján, Leonardo. 2006. La Casa de las Águilas. 2 vols. Mexico City: INAH. 178

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López Luján, Leonardo. 2010. Tlaltecuhtli. Mexico City: CONACULTA/INAH. López Luján, Leonardo, and Óscar J. Polaco. 1991. “La fauna de la Ofrenda H del Templo Mayor.” In La fauna en el Templo Mayor, edited by Óscar J. Polaco, 149–169. Mexico City: INAH/Asociación de Amigos del Templo Mayor/GV Editores. Matos Moctezuma, Eduardo. 1988. The Great Temple of the Aztecs: Treasures of Tenochtitlan. London: Thames and Hudson. Mendieta, Gerónimo de. 1980. Historia eclesiástica indiana. Edited by Joaquín García Icazbalceta. Mexico City: Porrúa. Nicholson, Henry B., and Eloise Quiñones Keber. 1983. Art of Aztec Mexico: Treasures of Tenochtitlan. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art. Noguera, Eduardo. 1968. “Ceremonias del fuego nuevo.” Cuadernos americanos 158 (3): 146–151. Pool, Christopher A. 2007. Olmec Archaeology and Early Mesoamerica. New York: Cambridge University Press. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–1982. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research; Salt Lake City: University of Utah. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1963. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research; Salt Lake City: University of Utah. Schlesinger, Victoria. 2001. Animals and Plants of the Ancient Maya: A Guide. Austin: University of Texas Press. Seler, Eduard. 1990–1998. Collected Works in Mesoamerican Linguistics and Archaeology. 6 vols. Edited by J. Eric S. Thompson, Francis B. Richardson, and Frank E. Comparato. Culver City, CA: Labyrinthos. Shapland, Andrew. 2010. “Wild Nature? Human-Animal Relations on Neopalatial Crete.” Cambridge Archaeological Journal 20 (1): 109–127. Solís, Felipe. 1991. Gloria y fama mexica. Mexico City: Smurfit Cartón y Papel de México. Solomon, R. 2001. Phenomenology and Existentialism. Lanham, MA: Rowman & Littlefield. Stebbins, Robert C., and Nathan W. Cohen. 1995. A Natural History of Amphibians. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Zug, George R., and W. E. Duellman. 2021. “Frog and Toad.” Encyclopedia Britannica, April 19. https://www.britannica.com/animal/Anura.

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7 Coyolxauhqui’s Serpents Political Metaphors in Mexica-Aztec Sculptures

Emily Umberger and Elizabeth Aguilera

We dedicate this study to Cecelia Klein, an exceptional scholar who has served as a model for many followers, including us. We have been inspired by her insights and questions about gender (Klein 1988, 1993, and 1994) and the role of the female Coyolxauhqui, who represents a defeated enemy in MexicaAztec art and ideation. Here we consider the use of serpents to characterize her losing traits.

The foci of this essay are stone sculptures where serpents express ideas about the necessity to balance, control, and coordinate movements and countermovements in order to maintain political power. The sculptures were produced for public display and elite usage in the Mexica1 city of Tenochtitlan during the period that it dominated the empire, between about 1450 and 1521, the year of the Spanish conquest. We begin by speculating on how some freestanding sculptures of serpents may have represented the ideal ruler (who was a male). Unfortunately, most of these lack the hieroglyphic names of kings or hieroglyphic dates that might link them to particular events,2 with one important exception, the xiuhcoatl (fire serpent) in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection in Washington, DC.3 As will be seen, its hieroglyphs serve as keys to understanding other sculptures that resemble it but lack information of this type. Following this is a longer section that focuses on the use of serpents to represent the opposite of the ideal ruler: the ruler or perspective ruler who was unable to control

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the forces of his society. The examples in this category are mostly relief sculptures depicting the mythical figure Coyolxauhqui (Bells, Painted), the principal enemy defeated by the Mexica patron god, Huitzilopochtli (Hummingbird, Left), in a struggle for dominance of Coatepec (Serpent Mountain), the symbol of the earth and the hierarchical pyramid of human society. The Templo Mayor—the central pyramid-temple of Tenochtitlan—represented Coatepec in architectural form, and various sculptures representing Coyolxauhqui have been found in and near its ruins in Mexico City. Serpents (sing. coatl, pl. cocoa) in Mexica art can be realistic or have imaginary additions and/or unnatural poses and positions. The serpent in figure 7.1A, for instance, is a natural snake in a natural pose. It is a coiled rattlesnake (perhaps called tecuhtlacozauhqui, “yellow lord,” who was the ruler of snakes). Among variations is the image of a mat made of living snakes, representing a royal throne/mat.4 These snakes (possibly rattlesnakes) appear to be real, but their woven arrangement is not. The serpent in figure 7.1B, a xiuhcoatl (fire serpent, pl. xiuhcocoa), is a combination of natural snake-like movement with mostly imaginary features that would never appear on a snake—humanlike arms with clawed hands, a nose curving back over the head and lined with orbs (stars), a sharp-edged body decorated with rectangular motifs, and a tail ending in a triangle, which represents a solar ray.5 Xiuhcocoa are represented in many different ways, with variations reflecting different aspects of their complex associations with solar fire and political power. In this example the xiuhcoatl descends a sloping stone block, perhaps referring to a temple staircase.6 The xiuhcoatl in another example7 has the same imaginary body decorations but takes a naturally coiled form, while yet another version8 forms the straight line of a dart in a context where it represents a solar weapon given to Huitzilopochtli by the sun and thrown by him against his enemy.

THE IDEAL RULER

Although most freestanding serpents lack specific historical contexts, they can be given general meanings of political import, and this is apparent in poses as well as the type of snake. The rattlesnake in figure 7.1, for instance, can be interpreted in terms of proper kingly behavior. The toothy open mouth, the rattle tail, and even the coiled posture can be seen as forming a threatening image. At the same time, the coiled pose represents a being whose potential power is restrained. In other words, although immobile, it is prepared for aggressive action. This balance of power and restraint was characteristic of a good ruler. CO YO L XAU H Q U I ’ S S ER P EN T S

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Figure 7.1. Sculptures of serpents-in-the-round. A, A rattlesnake, polished brown stone with areas of red paint in mouth and on underside, 1470–1521, provenience unknown. British Museum, London. B, A xiuhcoatl (fire serpent) descending a block, probably originally attached to a platform or pyramid, 1470–1519, said to be from Texcoco. British Museum, London. Courtesy Trustees of the British Museum.

An illustration and its accompanying text in Fray Diego Durán’s Historia de las Indias (1579–1581), a post-conquest document, reveals the existence of such an analogy between a ruler and the king of snakes. The image (figure 7.2) depicts the assassination of the ruler of Coyoacan, Tzotzoma, ordered by his superior, Ahuitzotl, the ruler of Tenochtitlan, in 1499. Ahuitzotl had demanded the use of several springs in Tzotzoma’s realm to feed a new aqueduct to his city. Tzotzoma acceded, but he did not show the subservient behavior expected by his political superior, who thus ordered his execution. In order to avoid this fate, when the executioners arrived, Tzotzoma transformed himself, sequentially, into different dangerous animals, two of which, a rattlesnake and an eagle, are seen in the illustration.9 That Tzotzoma eventually conceded is indicated by the strangulation of his human form. The text makes clear that he actually allowed himself to be murdered because Ahuitzotl had threatened to punish his people. His death was thus considered a virtuous self-sacrifice. Tzotzoma’s serpent form in the illustration does not look particularly frightening, but the accompanying description indicates that it was and explains the significance of its coiled posture: 182

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Figure 7.2. Strangulation of Tzotzoma, ruler of Coyoacan, in 1499 by representatives of the ruler of Tenochtitlan. Tzotzoma was known for his power to transform into different animals (seen behind him), among them an eagle and a rattlesnake in the process of uncoiling (Durán 1971 [1579–1581], fol. 140v). Biblioteca Nacional de España, Madrid. Digital facsimile: http://bdh-rd.bne.es/viewer.vm?id=0000169486&page=1. . . . the envoys [from Tenochtitlan] saw in the middle of the chamber [Tzotzoma’s throne room] a huge serpent coiled up with its head twisted around so it lay on top of its back. As soon as the serpent saw them, it began to uncoil and prepare to attack . . . the emissaries were extremely frightened. . . . (Durán 1994, 364)

Although neither of the serpent sculptures in figure 7.1 can be placed historically, a third example (figure 7.3), the xiuhcoatl in the Dumbarton Oaks Pre-Columbian Collection, has a hieroglyphic inscription on its underside that links it to a specific king and a dated event. Although it is an imaginary serpent, it is coiled like the rattlesnake in figure 7.1A but it forms a taller vertical column. This might indicate the even more intimidating power of the ruler of the entire Aztec Empire, the ruler whose name is incised on the underside, Moctezuma II. The date below the name glyph, 2 Reed, refers to the year 1507 when the final New Fire Ceremony before the Spanish conquest took place. This was considered the celebration of the emergence of the sun from the underworld at the beginning of a new 52-year cycle. Aztec dates are usually not distinguished by cycle. Thus years of the same name, like 2 Reed, recurred in all cycles. The hieroglyphic date on this sculpture, however, differs from other Reed glyphs in the addition of a knotted rope across the lower part of the date 2 Reed in our year 1507. The rope signified the traditional ceremony in which bundles of sticks were tied to represent the

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Figure 7.3. A, Coiled xiuhcoatl, polished green stone, 1507, Tenochtitlan. The face emerging from the serpent mouth, probably Moctezuma II, was later battered in ritual destruction. © Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, DC, PC.B.069. B, Underside with inscribed date 2 Reed (1507) below the name symbol of Moctezuma II. Drawing by Emily Umberger. Courtesy Dumbarton Oaks Collection.

years of the old cycle before burial. After this the new cycle was welcomed with the relighting of fires all over the empire. Prior to 1506 these ceremonies took place in 1 Rabbit, the first year of a new 52-Year Cycle. However, since 1 Rabbit (1506) was a time of famine, Moctezuma postponed the cycle-change ceremonies to the following year, 2 Reed (1507), when fertility returned to the basin (Codex Telleriano-Remensis, in Quiñones Keber 1995, fol. 41v). This was an important historical change, and all 2 Reed dates with the added rope were carved in 1507 or later (Umberger 1987, appendix). The Dumbarton Oaks xiuhcoatl is especially interesting in that it seems to have been one of a set of fire serpents made for the occasion. Two more members of this set are now in the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City and the Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, respectively, and there may have been others. The similarities of these two in size, material, and form with the Dumbarton Oaks serpent date them to the same time. And if they were exhibited together, as they probably were, the occurrence of hieroglyphic inscriptions on only one may indicate that repetition was unnecessary in such a group. They all probably represented Moctezuma II in different solar guises, as indicated by different decorative motifs on the serpent bodies. The Dumbarton 184

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Oaks serpent, however, being decorated with the marks of a xiuhcoatl, refers to the risen sun itself, the guise with which Moctezuma II was closely connected on other monuments (see Stuart 2018). Finally, all three have smashed faces, and the red paint that is still visible on the Berlin face may have been on all three. Both destruction and painting seem to have been pre-conquest actions, perhaps at the time of the ruler’s death. There are other sculptures of serpents, notably feathered serpents (sing. quetzalcoatl, pl. quetzalcocoa) with smashed faces, and they probably also represented a king or kings, although they lack the hieroglyphic names and dates that would link them to particular historical personages and events. Possibly these upright feathered serpents pertained to the ruler Ahuitzotl (1486–1502), who seems to have been dedicated to the deity Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl (Our Lord, Feathered Serpent) (see Umberger, forthcoming). Although these are sculptures in-the-round, feathered serpents with political implications are also found in relief sculptures made in 1499 and 1500 in celebration of the same deity ruler. In these reliefs the feathered serpent is represented in an upright, S-shaped pose behind a royal figure,10 Ahuitzotl in one relief and Topiltzin himself in the other. The feathered serpent in this position refers not only to dynastic descent from Topiltzin’s royal line but also to the priestly practices introduced by Topiltzin to Aztec rulership.

COYOLXAUHQUI, THE COMPETITOR WHO LACKED CONTROL

Failed rulers are not named on Mexica monuments, not even the foreigners who appear on the great sacrificial stones, like the Stone of Tizoc.11 The only known monument dedicated to a failed Tenochca ruler is the Tepozteco temple bearing the hieroglyph name and death date of Ahuitzotl (1468–1502) atop the mountain at Tepoztlan. His failure is subtly referred to by the temple’s mountain location and dedication to the god of pulque/drunkenness (Umberger 2016, 130–133, figs. 4.14a and 4.14b). What is implied is a comparison of the failed king to a drunkard who fell from a “high place.” The term “high place” referred to the top of a pyramid, a mountain, or a throne. All other known representations of Tenochca rulers are celebratory. In sculptures, losers are dressed as gods and labeled by place names rather than personal names. Another general practice was the representation of a defeated ruler as a mythological figure, Huitzilopochtli’s primary enemy, his sister, Coyolxauhqui (Bells, Painted). Huitzilopochtli is the winner, and his serpent is the xiuhcoatl, the solar fire serpent, in the form of both his dart thrower and the dart itself, as seen in figure 7.5. This image of the loser, Coyolxauhqui, CO YO L XAU H Q U I ’ S S ER P EN T S

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Figure 7.4. The mythical events at Coatepec (Serpent Mountain), as represented in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1979–1982, 3:3r). A, Coatlicue (Serpent Skirt) gives birth to the god Huitzilopochtli (Hummingbird, Left). B, Huitzilopochtli defeats his enemy siblings and their leader Coyolxauhqui (Bells, Painted). Biblioteca Medicea Laurenciana, Florence, Italy. C, Locations of sculptures of Huitzilopochtli and Coyolxauhqui on a drawn reconstruction of the Templo Mayor (Great Temple) of Tenochtitlan, an architectural representation of the mythic hill. The temple was enlarged on the same spot multiple times, and different versions of the sculptures would have been located in these same relative positions on each enlargement. Drawing of temple by Emily Umberger.

is accompanied by two different serpents. In contrast to the xiuhcoatl and the rattlesnake, which represent forces that defeat her, another serpent, a coral snake with a second head added to the tail, represents her own ineffective actions. The sculptural representations of Coyolxauhqui and the serpents that define her nature are mostly in reliefs rather than sculptures in-the-round. Most Coyolxauhqui sculptures were found near the Templo Mayor of Tenochtitlan, which, as indicated before, represented the mythical Coatepec, where the battle between Huitzilopochtli and Coyolxauhqui occurred. Among the different versions of the Coatepec story, the account recorded by Fray Bernardino de  Sahagún in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–1982, bk. 3, chap. 1) matches best the arrangement of sculptures at the temple. The events of the story are depicted in figures 7.4A and 7.4B, and the locations of the different sculpture types at the temple are indicated in the reconstruction in figure 7.4C. In the illustration accompanying Sahagún’s account, Huitzilopochtli’s mother, Coatlicue (Serpent Skirt) gives birth to the new god. The next scene features the battle between Huitzilopochtli and his rival siblings, during which he kills Coyolxauhqui, their leader. According to this account, her body 186

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rolled to the base of the hill, while the head rested on the top. With her fall, Huitzilopochtli became “king of the mountain” and representative of the risen sun, and he drove the army of remaining rivals, now transformed into stars, to the west, where they entered the dark Underworld. Coyolxauhqui became the Moon and at the same time changed into a female upon defeat (Umberger 2007; E. Aguilera 2007). The change in gender indicates that upon losing, the male who had vied for rulership proved himself to be like a woman rather than a true warrior, the masculine ideal in Aztec society and a crucial requirement of the ruler (Umberger 2007: 14, figures 3, 4). Although the colonial illustrations in the Florentine Codex are generally used to represent the tale, one pre-conquest object (figure 7.5), recently rediscovered in storage at the Brooklyn Museum,12 reveals more details that help interpret the stone images from a Mexica point of view. In fact, this is the only known pre-conquest object representing Coyolxauhqui and Huitzilopochtli together, and their costumes and implements reveal more about the symbolism behind the events at Coatepec (Umberger 2018). It depicts the murder scene without the mountain setting, and the images are in the form of medallions on a fragment of a ceramic brazier that was purchased in Mexico City by Herbert Spinden in 1935. Huitzilopochtli seems to have just emerged from the Underworld, with fierce fangs and a large shell-like covering over his head and back. The xiuhcoatl/dart flung from his dart thrower, which is in the form of another xiuhcoatl, pierces Coyolxauhqui’s torso. She wears a skirt and a double-headed serpent belt. The date of this object is unknown but given the presence of the double-headed serpent, it might come from the period of the Mexica civil war (second half of the fifteenth century), to be discussed below. The mountain itself was represented in Mexica times by the Templo Mayor of Tenochtitlan. Its construction stages were later enlargements built on top of earlier versions of the temple, which was at the center point of the city where its four avenues met. These expansions were constructed seemingly at least once in each reign after the 1428 war of independence from the Tepanecs, and new Coyolxauhqui figures were installed with major expansions.13 Of course, the winner, Huitzilopochtli, was represented by the god’s image in the shrine on top of the temple/mountain,14 while the Coyolxauhqui images were placed at the foot of the pyramid, where she landed in death after her defeat. The images of Coyolxauhqui on the earliest temple stages yet known were found in situ. These were the images found in 1978 on Stages IVa-1 (about 1454) and IVb above it (about 1469). The colossal head of the goddess (Chavero 1887, 391; Nicholson and Quiñones Keber 1983, 48–50, plate 9), which is believed to have been seen on the upper platform of the pyramid/mountain of the CO YO L XAU H Q U I ’ S S ER P EN T S

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Figure 7.5. Medallions on a fragment of a ceramic brazier. This is the only surviving preconquest representation of Coyolxauhqui and Huitzilopochtli together. On the left, the xiuhcoatl represents a solar dart piercing the body of Coyolxauhqui. She wears another serpent as a belt, a double-headed serpent. On the right, Huitzilopochtli carries an atlatl, spear-thrower (probably covered with turquoise), also in the form of a xiuhcoatl. Brooklyn Museum. Drawing by Emily Umberger.

1487 expansion, was found in a convent near the temple in the nineteenth century, and fragments of two smashed reliefs, both resembling parts of the Coyolxauhqui Stone on Stage IVb, were found close to ground level (Matos 1991, figures 4-6).15 Their damaged conditions indicate that they were probably on late stages of the temple created before the conquest (possibly Stages VI and VII). These five monuments represent the fallen goddess with differences resulting from artistic developments, alterations in the story according to historical contingencies, or just changes in emphasis. The Serpent Mat is seen with the earliest Coyolxauhqui on Stage IVa-1 and dates from sometime in the 1450s (figure 7.6A). The image consists of the goddess’s dismembered body parts and other motifs set into the pavement. The central axis is formed by the nude and headless torso, around which the limbs extend in radiating lines. Below the feet are a shield with darts—her warrior equipment—and the Serpent Mat. Illustrations of such a mat in the Florentine Codex and accompanying passages (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:80–81) explain its meaning. According to the text and illustrations, the mat was composed of intertwined living serpents (possibly rattlesnakes, possibly generic snakes), and if a prospective ruler managed to remain seated on it and managed to keep 188

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Figure 7.6. A, Coyolxauhqui in situ at the base of Stage IVa-1, Tenochtitlan Templo Mayor, separate pieces of stone covered with plaster and set into the platform, 1450s. Drawing by Emily Umberger, after Matos Moctezuma (1991, 35). B and C, Images from the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1979–1982, 11:84r, 84v) representing a ruler seated on the Serpent Mat and the mat breaking apart as the serpents go in different directions. Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence, Italy.

the serpents together, he demonstrated his ability to rule. His reward was the crown lying on the mat in front of him. If control of this wriggling seat was not maintained and the serpents went their own ways, the result was the ruler’s death, as symbolized by a skull. Thus, the body of Coyolxauhqui on Stage IVa-1 of the temple lies dismembered at the foot of the mountain, having fallen from the top, and the mat, the seat that she could not control, lies beside her. The mat of living snakes symbolizes the many groups of the polity that the ruler had to control in order to accomplish communal goals. Sahagún’s statement that the mat could also be curved implies that it represented the Serpent Mountain itself as the “high place of rulership” and that it was likewise comparable to the throne at the top of the social mountain.16 Ten or fifteen years later, a second image, the Coyolxauhqui Stone (figure 7.7) was installed directly above the first image and at the foot of the next enlargement of the temple. Completed in about 1469, the date of Moctezuma I’s death, it was conceived in his reign and continued to be displayed by his successor, Axayacatl (1469–1481).17 Carved on a single stone, it is the first monument in

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Figure 7.7. Coyolxauhqui Stone, Stage IVb, Templo Mayor, painted andesite, ca. 1470. A, B, and C, Double-headed serpents wrapped around the headdress, the waist, and the right arm, respectively. Museo Templo Mayor, Mexico City. Drawings by Emily Umberger.

the mature imperial style developed by Moctezuma’s artists. It is very different from the earlier image in both its superior carving and its sophisticated circular arrangement of the body parts and accouterments around the torso. Fortunately, extensive information from written sources and archaeological remains allow us to tie it to its historical context. The period of creation was one of intense competition between Tenochtitlan and its “twin” Mexica city, Tlatelolco, for control of the empire. The result was the civil war of 1473, which was won by the Tenochca and resulted in the absorption of Tlatelolco into Tenochtitlan, which became the imperial capital as a result of the war (Durán 1994, chaps. 48–49). Given the monument’s creation before the actual war, it must have been intended as a threat against the Tlatelolca. The analysis of colonial records, especially Durán’s account, reveals that the war was choreographed to follow the myth,18 with its final act being the throwing of the Tlatelolca ruler, like Coyolxauhqui, from the top of his own temple, a second Coatepec (Umberger 2007). Fortunately for the Tenochca, the war went their way, and Moctezuma’s successor, Axayacatl, assumed the role of sole Huitzilopochtli and the Tenochca Templo Mayor became the sole Coatepec. On the Coyolxauhqui Stone, as with its predecessor, Coyolxauhqui’s inability to rule is expressed through the movements of serpents, in this case the double-headed serpents wrapped around her body parts. This serpent image was 190

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Figure 7.8. The double-headed serpent. A, Illustration of a maquixcoatl from the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1979–1982, 11:fol. 82). Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence, Italy. B, Double-headed serpent pendant, turquoise mosaic on wood. Courtesy Trustees of the British Museum.

probably a new motif created to refer specifically to the contemporary struggle between the twin Mexica cities and their rulers. On the monument the serpents form a band wrapped around the headdress (figure 7.7A), loincloth-shaped belt (figure 7.7B), and knotted ties around the arms and legs (figure 7.7C).19 Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:78–79) provides a wealth of information on the metaphorical significance of the double-headed serpent. In the illustration accompanying the text (figure 7.8A) a man encounters a maquixcoatl (literally, “bracelet snake”). A beaded bracelet in the foreground translates the first part of the name (“bracelet”), and Sahagún describes the serpent as small and colored with black, yellow, and red stripes as well as having two heads. He explains that if the serpent wrapped itself around a person’s arm like a bracelet and stayed there, it was an omen of death. He also adds that the term maquixcoatl was used to refer to a person who was “two-faced,” a troublemaker, a gossip, and duplicitous. How these aspects of the metaphor worked together is unclear, and it is probable that they are a mixture of political and everyday popular usage from different periods. Adding to this information are two passages in the Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas (Garibay 1973, 23–24, 55). At the beginning, the text states that CO YO L XAU H Q U I ’ S S ER P EN T S

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Tonacatecuhtli and Tonacacihuatl (a creator couple) had four sons, of which “the fourth and littlest was named Omitecutli, Bone Lord and by another name Maquixcoatl, and the Mexica called him Huitzilopochtli.”20 The second passage dates from the time when the Mexica split and settled in two cities. In this passage, the Tlatelolca are called two-faced and speakers with two tongues against Huitzilopochtli (obviously the Tenochca Huitzilopochtli). This is the negative part of Sahagún’s definition of maquixcoatl. From these two passages it seems that the identification of Huitzilopochtli as Maquixcoatl at the beginning of the text was a neutral reference and that later in the text it gained a negative aspect that was applied to the Tlatelolca. (Of course, this text represents the Tenochca point of view, and the Tlatelolca probably felt the same way about the Tenochca.) Unfortunately, the literal meaning of Maquixcoatl is “bracelet snake,” without reference to the double-headed aspect, so the following reconstruction of the change of the usage of the term is speculative. We suggest the possibility that Huitzilopochtli was represented originally by a double-headed serpent to symbolize the two rulers working together under the patronage of Huitzilopochtli, and that the negative view was developed in the mid-fifteenth century when the arrangement became untenable. If so, the honorific, revered version might have been represented by the turquoise double-serpent pendant in the British Museum (figure 7.8B). It is made of the valuable solar-related royal material of the ruler’s possessions, turquoise, and although the snakes’ heads face in opposite directions, their movements are coordinated and balanced. The negative version seems to appear first on the Coyolxauhqui Stone, where the two heads pull against each other, with the result being ineffective counteractions by the two rulers and eventually paralysis. Modern scholars have simplified and combined parts of the above statements to interpret the “bracelet serpents” on Coyolxauhqui as representing ropes used by Huitzilopochtli to bind the goddess as a captive (C. Aguilera 1978, 90–91; Cué et al. 2010, 47). However, the combination of verbal information, historical context, and the monument itself indicate a more complex situation. First, according to all sources of information on the myth, Huitzilopochtli did not take Coyolxauhqui prisoner; he killed her. In addition, the scene on the Brooklyn brazier reveals that Coyolxauhqui was already wearing a doubleheaded serpent as a belt before she was killed. Aside from these factual problems, the interpretation of the serpents as representing ropes does not explain the snakes’ two heads, which introduce the theme of conflict. It is probable that Coyolxauhqui’s serpent bracelets are like ropes impeding her progress, as well as characterizing the faults that led to her fall. 192

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In contrast to the British Museum pendant, the double-headed serpents tied around Coyolxauhqui’s limbs are not working together. They pull against each other, and, as in the case of the Serpent Mat, the serpents represent the inability of a ruler to control these conflicting movements. The civil war of 1473 was a battle between two rulers vying for the top position, each considering the other as responsible for the problem of coordination. Thus, the Tenochca called the Tlatelolca troublemakers, and their leader a sneaky and ineffective Coyolxauhqui. The depiction of ineffective movement is reinforced by the circular composition of the motifs on the Coyolxauhqui Stone. The goddess’s bent arms and legs circle the torso, giving the impression of a swiftly running personage. Ironically, however, the dismemberment of the body makes such movements impossible. The loser’s highly active movements are to no avail. She spins in place like a pinwheel.

THE CORAL SNAKE

Finally, the choice of the coral snake to represent the ideas discussed above was purposeful. A comparison with the British Museum pendant makes the point clear. The pendant represents a generic snake made of turquoise, one of the Mexica’s most valuable materials and associated with the day sun and the king. In addition to its blue color, it lacks the stripes around the serpent bodies displayed on the Coyolxauhqui Stone. These stripes are clearly delineated by carved lines, and remnants of red paint were observed on them at the time of excavation (García Cook and Arana 1978, fig. 58, correct label under fig. 59; Huerta 1978; C. Aguilera 1985).21 These traits together with Sahagún’s description of the maquixcoatl made the identification of the coral snake obvious to the first scholars who studied it. The striped coral snake is common in central Mexico (figure 7.9). Study of the behavior of this serpent (Savage and Slowinski 2008; Wozniak et al. 2006) indicates its appropriateness to express the intended characterization of the losing ruler. The coral snake’s head is small and sometimes not easily distinguished from the tail. This sameness, of course, was exaggerated with the addition of the second head to the tail on sculptures. The coral snake is nocturnal—like Coyolxauhqui herself, who was associated with the moon in contrast to Huitzilopochtli’s link with the sun. From a human point of view, the coral snake is considered sneaky and duplicitous because it hides under leaves and rocks. In contrast to the rattlesnake, the serpent comparable to the effective ruler in Mexica thought, it does not have a rattle to threaten and warn victims, and it CO YO L XAU H Q U I ’ S S ER P EN T S

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Figure 7.9. Central Mexican coral snake. Photographer: L. A. Dawson, animal courtesy of Austin Reptile Service, Wikipedia Commons (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki /File:Micrurus_tener.jpg#/media/File:Micrurus_tener.jpg).

also lacks the rattlesnake’s effective weapon—its poisonous bite. Although venomous, the coral snake’s bite is hampered by “frozen teeth.” It seems then that if a depicted animal has behavioral characteristics comparable to a real one, these too must be factored into our understanding of the intended meaning.

CONCLUSION

In addition to other purposes,22 it appears that on the sculptures discussed here, poses, movements, and the traits of different types of serpents were used to represent the actions of effective and ineffective rulers in Mexica art. The effective ruler’s associated serpents are the rattlesnake and the fire serpent. The rattlesnake seems to be associated especially with the throne. Like a ruler on the throne, the serpent represents him as powerful and threatening, but also in control. The fire serpent, in turn, associates the king with the power of the sun and may also serve as the weapon granted to him by the sun, the dart and dart thrower. In contrast, the losing ruler or the losing candidate for this position lacks such control, power, and solar connection. Transformed into a 194

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woman, his movements are hampered by conflicting and two-faced actions, as represented by “bracelets” made of double-headed coral serpents tied around his limbs and pulling in different directions.

NOTES

1. The Mexica were the politically dominant inhabitants of the Basin of Mexico. They occupied two neighboring cities, Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco, which shared an island in Lake Texcoco in the southern part of the basin. The two Mexica cities shared a common history and a culture that focused on the same patron god, Huitzilopochtli (Hummingbird, Left). Before a Civil War between them in 1473 they were independent cities, of which the inhabitants were distinguished from each other as Tlatelolca and Tenochca. Upon winning, the Tenochca ended the Tlatelolca royal line and destroyed their Templo Mayor, which, like the temple in Tenochtitlan, was dedicated to Huitzilopochtli, and they incorporated Tlatelolco into their own city as a fifth, subordinate district. Tenochtitlan then became the political and religious capital of the Aztec Empire. The term “Aztec” was adopted in the nineteenth century to refer to the city of Tenochtitlan together with its Nahuatl-speaking neighbors in the basin. Depending on the purpose of a study, it is sometimes used more narrowly to designate the capital city alone, and more broadly to include all Nahuatl-speaking groups surrounding the basin as well as in the basin. Here we use the terms “Mexica” or “Mexica-Aztecs” because we are focusing on monuments in the Imperial Style created to decorate the center in Tenochtitlan. 2. For the reading of hieroglyphs on Aztec monuments and the interpretation as historical names and dates, see Umberger (1981 and subsequent articles). 3. See figure 7.3. 4. See figure 7.6B. 5. And also a calendric symbol, since time was connected to the passage of the sun; see chapter 11, this volume. 6. Perhaps representing the stairway of a temple and recalling a ceremony that featured a burning paper copy of the serpent to represent solar light and heat falling from the sky to earth. 7. See figure 7.3. 8. See figure 7.5. 9. This transformation actually suggests a metonymical rather than metaphorical relationship between ruler and animal. It seems to have been a matter of shared essence rather than metaphorical comparison. 10. Whether intentional or not, the upright S-shaped pose expresses the same balance as the coiled pose of the three-dimensional serpents. Upright serpents are

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illustrated in Eloise Quinones Keber, 1993, “Quetzalcoatl as Dynastic Patron in The Symbolism in the plastic and pictorial representations of Ancient Mexico,” In Symposium at the 46th International Congress of Americanists, Amsterdam, 1988, vol. 1, 149–155, Fig. 101. 11. The captured warriors on the Stone of Tizoc and the Ex-Arzobispado Stone of Moctezuma I are labeled with territorial names, not personal names (Umberger 1998). The memorial monument to Ahuitzotl was discussed by Umberger (2008), who noted a link between the pulque temple and Ahuitzotl’s death. Umberger’s discussion of Tepozteco cites an article by Eduard Seler (1993, 4:270–272, fig. 10) in his collected works that illustrates the name glyph of Ahuitzotl originally found on the temple and a second tablet with a date glyph that he identified as 10 Rabbit, the date of Ahuitzotl’s death. 12. Thanks to Diana Fane for calling attention to this valuable object in the collections of the Brooklyn Museum as well as Lisa Bruno and her conservation team for their help in the physical study of the object. 13. For the sequence of excavated levels of the temple, see Matos 1981. For the study and dating of the images of Coyolxauhqui, see Matos 1991. 14. No temple image of the god has been found, so how often new images were made is unknown. 15. With the exception of the large head of the goddess, mentioned below. 16. The “high place” was a conceptual category that linked the top of a mountain, the top of a pyramid, the throne, and, by extension, the top of the social pyramid. The pyramid represented, at different times, the pyramidal shapes of the earth, sky, and underworld as well as the society, on top of which the ruler was located. Beings on these high places were in danger of falling, a metaphor for failure (including political failure), which was also linked to drunkenness, a lack of control. See Judith Maxwell and Craig Hanson (1992, 177, 183, 374–375, 424–425) for some verbal references to the “high place.” Another monumental sculpture, the Coatlicue, adds to this conflation of ideas by uniting the Serpent Mountain and the mother (Coatlicue, Serpent Skirt) of Huitzilopochtli. The word for “skirt” (cueitl) also refers to a mountain slope. 17. According to López Austin and López Luján (2009, 295), the monument was first placed on a platform of Stage IVa-2 at the temple and then moved to a platform constructed above it a few years later (on Stage IVb). A plaque with the date 3 House (1469) is embedded into one side of this later platform. So, as these authors demonstrate, the sculpture must have been conceived and carved principally in the reign of Moctezuma I (1440–1469) and then moved to a later platform when he died. According to Umberger (2007), it must have remained visible through the Civil War of 1473, the event it was intended to commemorate by Moctezuma’s successor. 18. The use of myth as a model for historical events is also apparent in the layout of the ceremonial center of Tenochtitlan, which represents the entire landscape around 196

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Coatepec. Alfredo López Austin and Leonardo López Luján (2009, chap.  11) have matched the places named in the myth with locations around the temple. 19. For some unknown reason the second head of the serpent wrapped around the goddess’s headdress is hidden. The colonial illustration differs from the verbal description in that the serpent is not striped and has legs. 20. It is possible that the god’s name was misspelled. It might have been Ometecuhtli (Two Lord, a reference to Huitzilopochtli). 21. In a recent reconstruction of the colors by Cué et al. (2010), the snakes are painted solid blue (as if made of turquoise) and not striped. Perhaps the authors were inspired by the British Museum pendant. 22. For instance, undulating serpents are used on other sculptures to represent the flow of natural forces (see Umberger, forthcoming). REFERENCES

Aguilera, Carmen. 1978. “Significado de los Rasgos y Atavios de Coyolxauhqui.” Antropología e Historia, Boletín del Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia 24:81–92. Aguilera, Carmen. 1985. “Reconstrucción de la Policromía de Coyolxauhqui.” In De la Historia: Homenaje a Jorge Gurría Lacroix, 45–65. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Aguilera, Elizabeth. 2007. “Feminist Approaches to Aztec Sculpture: A Historiographic Approach.” MA thesis, Arizona State University. Chavero, Alfredo. 1887. México a través de los siglos. Vol. 1, Historia antigua de la conquista. Edited by Vicente Riva Palacio. Barcelona: Espasa. Cook, Angel García, and Raúl Arana. 1978. Rescate Arqueológico del Monolito Coyolxauhqui. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Cué, Lourdes, Fernando Carrizosa, and Norma Valentín. 2010. “El Monolito de Coyolxauhqui. Investigaciones Recientes.” Arqueología Mexicana 17 (102): 42–47. Durán, Diego. 1579–1581. Historia de las Indias de Nueva España e islas de la tierra firme. Biblioteca Nacional de España Vitr./26/11. Digitalized facsimile. http://bdh-rd.bne .es/viewer.vm?id=0000169486&page=1. Durán, Diego. 1971 [1579–1581]. Book of the Gods and Rites and the Ancient Calendar. Translated by Fernando Horcasitas and Doris Heyden. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Durán, Diego. 1994 [1579–1581]. The Aztecs: The History of the Indies of New Spain. Translated by Doris Heyden. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. García Cook, Angel, and Raúl M. Arana A. 1978. Rescate Arqueológico del Monolito Coyolxauhqui, Informe Preliminar. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia.

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Garibay, Ángel M. (ed.). 1973. Teogonía e historia de los mexicanos: Tres opúsculos del siglo XVI. 2nd ed. Mexico City: Editorial Porrúa. Huerta, Alejandro. 1978. “Estudio de la policromía de la ‘Piedra de la Luna’ (Coyolxauhqui).” Churubusco: 87–101. Klein, Cecelia. 1988. “Rethinking Cihuacoatl: Aztec Political Imagery of the Conquered Woman.” In Smoke and Mist: Mesoamerican Studies in Memory of Thelma D. Sullivan, edited by J. Kathryn Josserand and Karen Dakin, 1:237–277. BAR International Series 402. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Klein, Cecelia. 1993. “The Shield Woman: Resolution of an Aztec Gender Paradox.” In Current Topics in Aztec Studies: A Symposium Honoring H. B. Nicholson, edited by Alana Cordy-Collins and Douglas Sharon, 39–64. San Diego, CA: San Diego Museum of Man. Klein, Cecelia. 1994. “Fighting with Femininity: Gender and War in Aztec Mexico.” In Gender Rhetorics: Postures of Dominance and Submission in Human History, edited by Richard C. Trexler, 107–146. Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies 113. Binghamton: State University of New York, Binghamton. López Austin, Alfredo, and Leonardo López Luján. 2009. Monte Sagrado—Templo Mayor. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia and Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Matos Moctezuma, Eduardo. 1981. Una visita al Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlán. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Matos Moctezuma, Eduardo. 1991. “Las Seis Coyolxauhquis: Variaciones sobre un Mismo Tema.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 21:15–30. Maxwell, Judith M., and Craig A. Hanson. 1992. Of the Manners of Speaking That the Old Ones Had: The Metaphors of Andrés de Olmos in the TULAL Manuscript Arte para aprender la lengua mexicana [1547]. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Nicholson, H. B., and Eloise Quiñones Keber. 1983. Art of Aztec Mexico: Treasures of Tenochtitlan. Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art. Quiñones Keber, Eloise. 1995. Codex Telleriano-Remensis: Ritual, Divination, and History in a Pictorial Aztec Manuscript. Austin: University of Texas Press. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–1982 [1575–1578]. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research; Salt Lake City: University of Utah. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1979–1982. Códice Florentino. Photographic facsimile. Florence, Italy: Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana; Mexico City: Archivo General de la Nación, Secretaría de Gobernación.

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Savage, Jay M., and Joseph B. Slowinski. 2008. “The Colouration of the Venomous Coral Snakes (Family Elapidae) and Their Mimics (Families Anobiidae and Colubridae).” Biological Journal of the Linnean Society 45:235–254. Seler, Eduard. 1993. “The Wall Sculptures in the Temple of the Pulque God at Tepoztlan.” In Collected Works in Mesoamerican Linguistics and Archaeology, Vol. 4. Frank E. Comparato, general editor, 266–280. Culver City: Labyrinthos. Stuart, David. 2018. “El Emperador y el Cosmos: Nueva Mirada a la Piedra del Sol.” Arqueología Mexicana 149:20–25. Umberger, Emily. 1981. “Aztec Sculptures, Hieroglyphs, and History.” PhD diss., Columbia University. Umberger, Emily. 1987. “Events Commemorated by Date Plaques at the Templo Mayor: Reconsidering the Solar Metaphor.” In The Aztec Templo Mayor, edited by Elizabeth Hill Boone, 411–449. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Umberger, Emily. 1998. “New Blood from an Old Stone.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 28:241–256. Umberger, Emily. 2007. “The Metaphorical Underpinnings of Aztec History: The Case of the 1473 Civil War.” Ancient Mesoamerica 18:11–29. Umberger, Emily. 2008. “Monuments, Omens, and Historical Thought: The Transition from Ahuitzotl to Motecuhzoma II,” Smoking Mirror, Pre-Columbian Society of Washington DC, 16:5, 2–6. Umberger, Emily. 2016. “Aztec Art in Provincial Places: Water Concerns, Monumental Sculptures, and Imperial Expansion.” In Altera Roma: Art and Empire from Mérida to Mexico, edited by John M. D. Pohl and Claire L. Lyons, 109–145. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology Press, University of California, Los Angeles. Umberger, Emily. 2018. “Coyolxauhqui at the Brooklyn Museum.” In The Significance of Small Things: Essays in Honour of Diana Fane, edited by Luisa Elena Alcalá and Kenneth Moser, 159–164. Madrid: Ediciones el Viso. Umberger, Emily. Forthcoming. “Before the Conquest: Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl in Mexica-Aztec Sculptures.” In On the Tail of the Feathered Serpent: Refining Our Understanding of Mesoamerica’s Most Enigmatic Being, edited by Cynthia KristanGraham and Jeremy Coltman. Wozniak, Edward J., John Wisser, and Michael Schwartz. 2006. “Venomous Adversaries: A Reference to Snake Identification, Field Safety, and Bite-Victim First Aid for Disaster-Response Personnel Deploying into the Hurricane-Prone Regions of North America.” Wilderness and Environmental Medicine 17:246–266.

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8 Quail in the Religious Life of the Ancient Nahuas Elena Mazzetto

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In the last few decades the study of fauna and its symbolism in the social and religious dimensions of ancient Mexico has aroused the curiosity and interest of specialists. Investigations of a historical nature (realized through analysis of the written sources of the sixteenth century) and those based on iconography (the study of images) have been enriched by the valuable contributions of zooarchaeology. This discipline allows us to know in detail the species, genus, alimentation, and illnesses, among other data, of the animals found in archeological records, at the same time giving us firsthand information about the complex human-animal relationship in the prehispanic era. This text will present an initial critical approach to the study of an animal very present in the daily and ritual lives of the ancient Nahuas: the quail, genus Cyrtonyx, or zolin in the Nahuatl language. It refers to a type of land fowl belonging to the family Odontophoridae and native to Central America, Mexico, and the extreme south of the United States. In both sixteenth-century colonial documents as well as codices from the tradition of central Mexico and the Mixtec area, one finds abundant descriptions and representations of these birds, whose most frequent function was to serve as a sacrificial offering in multiple ritual contexts (Boone 2007, 53). This rite, called tlaquechcotonaliztli, consisted of decapitating these small birds in front of a divine effigy or in front of its living representation (ixiptla) in order to make an offering of their blood (figure 8.1). https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c008

This bird was considered to be a “food highly prized by their idol or demon” (Relaciones geográficas de  México 1985, vol.  1, 188). The collaborators of Friar Bernardino de  Sahagún describe this ritual death by cutting the quail’s neck in the Primeros Memoriales: In this way they cut the neck of the quail: when they decapitated the small birds in front of the god, they would raise them up as well and throw them in front of him. There the bodies of the birds would stay, flapping around. “In tlaquechcotonaliztli yc muchivaia: ca icoac in tlatototzintli ixpan quiquechcotonania in diablo, no coniaviliaya uncac contlazaia yn ixpan diablo. Uncan tlapapatlatoc in itlac in tototzintli.” (LeónPortilla 1992, 56–57, author’s translation of Spanish text, Nahuatl in quotes from original)

Figure 8.1. Tlaquechcotonaliztli (“Cutting the neck of the quail”). Drawing by Elena Mazzetto, after Sahagún (1997, 255r).

The frequency of their presence in Templo Mayor excavations and offerings, the main place of worship in the Aztec capital, Mexico-Tenochtitlan, has led archaeologists to integrate the remains of these birds into the “logical unit” (“unidad discursiva”) of ritual oblations, together with elements such as copal and bloody bone awls (López Luján 2005, 266). Three species of quail have been identified at this archaeological site: Cyrtonyx montezumae, Caliplepla squamata, and Colinus virginianus. The association of the quail with the concept of offering is particularly evident in the codices of Mixtec tradition, such as the Codex Nuttall (Codex Zouche-Nuttall 1992, plate 17), where the bird appears to be connected systematically with copal pouches, rubber balls, and autosacrificial awls (figure 8.2). Despite the importance that the ancient Nahuas granted its presence at the moment of offering blood to supernatural beings, a review of the historiography attests to the absence of a complete and systematic investigation of this Q UA I L I N T H E R ELI G I O U S LI F E O F T H E A N C I EN T N A H UA S

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bird. The studies that have been conducted on the fauna of the prehispanic world have demonstrated the impossibility of outlining an unambiguous symbolism of the animals under consideration. In effect, the meaning of their presence or of their characteristics—feathers, wings, fangs, claws, etc.—is strikingly polysemic (Echeverría García 2015; Latsanopoulos 2011; Olivier 2007, 2015; Valverde Valdés 2004, among others). For this reason, this work does not attempt to provide a complete analysis, but instead will reflect on the distinct contexts of Nahua religious life that involved this bird. It will take as a starting point Figure 8.2. Quail and rubber ball as offerings. a constructive review of the Drawing by Elena Mazzetto, after Codex Zoucheproposals of the first specialists, Nuttall (1992, 17). pioneers of the study of prehispanic fauna, such as Eduard Seler. The objective is a deeper understanding of this animal in ritual context.

THE QUAIL, THE SUN, AND THE STARRY SKY

The mythology as well as the rituals and art of the prehispanic Nahua tradition demonstrate the role of opposition and disaster played by the quail facing the emergence of the sun (Osorio 2006; Sierra 2006). In the well-known myth of the creation of the Fifth Sun in Teotihuacan, this bird is one of the animals, together with the lobster, the snake, and the butterfly, destined to be sacrificed for not having correctly guessed the cosmic direction from which the king of the sky would rise (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:7; Mendieta 1971, 79–80).1 This relationship between the quail and the sacrificial victim was first documented by Eduard Seler. He highlighted multiple facets of the symbolism of this bird based on its iconographic representations. The first element that 202

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Figure 8.3. Jaguar or monkey beheading a quail for the Sun. Drawing by Rodolfo Ávila, after Codex Borgia 71 (Seler 1963, 3: plate 71). Courtesy Guilhem Olivier.

attracted his attention was the presence of “body paint” that represented the starry sky, defined by Seler as cicitlallo (Seler 1963, 2:211), or citlalichihualli in Nahuatl-language documents (Sahagún 1950–1982, 1:3; Vauzelle 2018, 721), represented by white circles on a black background. This is a distinctive characteristic of the neck plumage of the Cyrtonyx montezumae. This paint, defined as “starry,” characterizes astral entities such as Huitzilopochtli, Paynal, and Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (Dupey 2014–2015, 78–79; Vauzelle 2018, 721). Seler also emphasizes the numerous sacrifices of quail undertaken by Mexica priests at the moment of the rising of the sun and, more generally, during festivities specially related to Tonatiuh (Seler 1963, 2:237–238). This solar association recalls the eagle found in Offering 125 of the Templo Mayor Project, in whose stomach were discovered quail remains. In fact, it is precisely the eagle that is one of the animal alter egos of the sun (López Luján et al. 2012). Seler comes to define quails as “the only birds that were sacrificed to the sun and to the great gods associated with it, such as Huitzilopochtli . . . not because they were easier to procure, but because they were the symbol of men destined for sacrifice, of the souls of sacrificed warriors” (Seler 1963, 2:237–238). This scholar emphasizes its posture, calling attention to the white down that Q UA I L I N T H E R ELI G I O U S LI F E O F T H E A N C I EN T N A H UA S

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characterizes the bird’s body on page 71 of the Codex Borgia, an adornment typical of sacrificial victims (figure 8.3; Seler 1963, 3, plate 71). Based on its nature as opponent of the sun, Seler attributes to the quail a role exceptionally lunar and nocturnal, recalling how the sacrificial technique reserved for these small birds is the same inflicted by Huitzilopochtli on his sister Coyolxauhqui, an entity related to the selenic heavenly body in the myth of her birth on Coatepec (Seler 1963, 2:238; see also Sahagún 1950–1982, 3:1–5; Umberger and Aguilera, chapter 7, this volume). The nocturnal connotations of the quail also recall the role of the opossum in the Popol Vuh, documented by Gabrielle Vail and Allen Christenson (chapter 13, this volume). Seler argues that the quail-moon relationship permits an explanation of its presence in the apparel of two telluric gods, intimately lunar, of the Mexica pantheon: Xipe Totec and Toci-Tlazolteotl. The first wears a quail as an adornment in his pectoral piece (Codex Borgia; see Seler 1963, 3:25), and his face is painted with the quail motif (mixçolichiuhticac).2 The second carries it clenched in her teeth (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 13) in the celebrations of the monthly feast of Ochpaniztli (“The Sweeping”) (figure 8.4). To conclude, Seler demonstrates the telluric nature of this bird, one that walks at ground level and feeds on maize kernels. Starting from this initial approach to the symbolism of the quail, it is possible to bring to light new details that complete or refute the information presented so far. The nexus between this bird and sacrificial victims can be supported with diverse evidence from documentary sources. Zolton, “small quail,” is the name of one of the Mimixcoa who are the uncles of Quetzalcoatl in the myth of his victory on the mountain of Mixcoatepec (Leyenda de los soles, see Tena 2011, 191–193). The nephew reaches the top of the pyramid-mountain before his uncles light a new fire. As demonstrated by authors like Michel Graulich (2000), this mythical adventure is probably an impoverished version (fire in place of the king of the sky) of the birth of the sun and therefore of a new era. This piece of information not only allows us to find, once again, the quail defeated while facing the birth of the day, but also accentuates a connection with the role of the Mimixcoa, prototypical sacrificial victims (Olivier 2010). In the mythical adventure that describes the realization of the first sacred war, the latter fail in their search for food for the sun (Leyenda de los soles, see Tena 2011, 185–187). If we compare this story with that of the emergence of the Fifth Sun, the quail and the Mimixcoa show themselves as equally incapable of completing their task before the heavenly body: the first did not guess the direction of his appearance, while the second did not find his food. Indeed, there can be no salvation from this guilty ineptitude, and 204

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Figure 8.4. Toci-Tlazolteotl with quail-shaped nasal adornment (detail). Drawing by Elbis Domínguez, after Codex Borbonicus (1991, 13). Courtesy Guilhem Olivier.

sacrifice is its consequence. The nexus of quail-victim reveals itself frequently in descriptions of the ceremonies of the prehispanic Nahuas. According to the collaborators of Sahagún (1950–1982, 9:52; Sahagún 1969, 3:46–47), during the banquets celebrated by the pochteca, a quail was sacrificed by each slave destined for death. In Tlacaxipehualiztli (“Flaying of Men”), a quail was beheaded just in front of the captive who was going to fight for his life in the rite known as tlahuahuanaliztli or “striping” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:52; Sahagún 1969, 1:145). Returning to Seler and the relationship between the quail’s plumage and the starry night, it can be observed that not a single source in Nahuatl describes the quail based on this visual affinity, nor does its name contain the word citlalin, “star,” as is the case of other animals—the citlalocuilin, “star-worm,” and the citlalcoatl, “star-serpent” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:81–82, 99). On the contrary, the wings of this bird are described as chiencuicuiltic, “chia-spotted” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:49; Dupey 2010, 2:321). The meaning attributed to the paint pattern tlayohualli, “darkness, night” (Sahagún 1997, 95), formed by white circles on a black background, present on the bodies of other divine beings such as Huitzilopochtli and Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, refers, according to Élodie Dupey Garcia (2014–2015, 77) and Loïc Vauzelle (2018, 723), to the dawn, the tension between the moment in which the night ends and the sun emerges. I consider this symbolic association to be more than apt for the quail, the same being that failed in its attempt to divine the direction of the rising sun precisely in the final moments of darkness before the appearance of that heavenly body in the dawn. This bird appears and flies before dawn, like the morning star (Sierra 2006, 20–22). Like the quail, Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli-Venus was the first victim of the sun in the Leyenda de los soles. The king of the sky wounds his enemy with arrows that fall in the underworld (Leyenda de los soles; see Tena 2011, 183; Dupey 2014–2015, 78; Klein, chapter 3, this volume). One element that I consider important to reexamine is the exclusive relationship presented by Seler between this bird, the sun, and the sun’s most closely related deities, such as Huitzilopochtli.3 In effect, Juan de Torquemada (1975–1983, 7:150) underlines how this god would receive offerings of “quail and sparrow hawks.” Nevertheless, a detailed reading of the written sources demonstrates how the blood of these small birds was spilled with frequency before very distinct entities. In his description of the monthly feast of Huey Tozoztli (“Great Vigil”), dedicated to the entities of maize and rain, Torquemada (1975–1983, 10:370) argues the case that the goddess of maize celebrated in this feast “was no friend of human blood and was content with the death of other 206

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Figure 8.5. Chicomecoatl with a live quail in the mouth. Drawing by Elena Mazzetto, after Codex Borbonicus (1991, 7).

animals, especially quail.” Tezcatlipoca was the recipient of their sacrifice in the monthly feast of Toxcatl (“Dryness”) (Torquemada 1975–1983, 10:370) and in the moveable feast of 1 Death (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:37; Sahagún 1969, 1:134). Chicomexochitl and Xochiquetzal were the recipients in the moveable feast of 1 Flower (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:36; Sahagún 1969, 1:133), Xiuhtecuhtli in the moveable feast of 1 Dog (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:39; Sahagún 1969, 1:136), and Itzpapalotl was the recipient of their sacrifice in the Codex Borbonicus (1991, 15). They were also offered in key moments of social life, such as when young girls would leave the calmecac in order to marry (Sahagún 1969, 1:263). There is no shortage of examples. Returning to the interpretation of Eduard Seler, who associates the quail exclusively with Xipe Totec and Toci-Tlazolteotl, it is important to add that other personages and supernatural entities also wore attire connected with this bird. Thus, according to Diego Durán, the headdress of the effigy of Tezcatlipoca and that of future priests was made from its feathers (Durán 1967, 1:38, 47–58; Olivier 2004, 98, 328). Likewise, during the monthly feast of Ochpaniztli, not only Toci-Tlazolteotl but also Chicomecoatl carries a live quail clenched in her teeth (figure 8.5; Codex Borbonicus 1991, plates 29, 30, 31). Thereafter, we know that Chalchiuhtotolin, “Precious Turkey,” was an avatar of Tezcatlipoca (Olivier 2004). Q UA I L I N T H E R ELI G I O U S LI F E O F T H E A N C I EN T N A H UA S

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Figure 8.6. Goddess Chicomecoatl—or her ixiptla—with a quail in her mouth. Polychrome Aztec sculpture. Drawing by Elena Mazzetto, after Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City, 11.0–02893. THE QUAIL, THE EARTH, AND PURIFICATION

The rite of quail decapitation and bloodletting demonstrates a very strong connection between this bird and earth and fire, both principal destinations of its lifeless body (Sahagún 1950–1982, 9:52; Sahagún 1969, 1:244–245; 3:46–47). Its nature as an earthly offering is clearly expressed on page 71 of the Codex Borgia, where the quail’s head is devoured by the jaws of the earth monster (see figure 8.3). On this point, it is interesting to make clear the precise nature of the part of the bird’s body found in the mouth of the telluric entities celebrated in Ochpaniztli, Toci-Tlazolteotl and Chicomecoatl. Seler (1963, 1:121, 124) identifies this bird as a “quail adornment that is worn on the chest” or as 208

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a “nose ornament in the shape of a rod or plaque, made from quail feathers.” According to Sahagún’s collaborators, a live quail was “clenched in the teeth” of the ixiptla of Aticpaccalqui cihuatl (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:213; Sahagún 1969, 1:251). The same bird hangs from the mouth of the ixiptla of Chicomecoatl in a polychrome Aztec sculpture of the Museo Nacional de  Antropología (Mexico City, cat. no. 11.0-02893; figure 8.6). The sculpture represents the face and headdress—the amacalli—of the goddess of ripe corn. She wears a mask made from the flayed skin of a sacrificial victim, and the remains of the black paint are still visible on her cheeks. The presence of quail allows the identification of the mouth of these telluric ixiptlas as the toothy oral cavity of the earth monster, which devours the victims of sacrifice. According to Thelma Sullivan (1982, 11–12), the quail is associated with earth and fertility. She proposed that “the presence of this adornment not only serves as a symbol of the creative Earth Mother but may also be a glyph for her name . . . the word tlazolli ultimately derives from ‘zolin,’ quail. Its position over or near the mouth may represent -tlan, for tlantli, teeth.”

FROM DESTRUCTION- CREATION TO DIVINATION

In the Leyenda de los soles (see Tena 2011, 179), it is told how Quetzalcoatl descends to Mictlan in order to recover the bones of human ancestors. Mictlantecuhtli makes the god trip, which causes him to drop the bones. These break, and a few quail gnaw and pick at them. Even though this mythical story doesn’t go into greater detail, of interest is its demonstration of how this bird maintains a very longstanding connection with bones. In his Tratado de las supersticiones, Ruiz de Alarcón (1953, 212–213) collects an incantation for curing fractures: “Hey you, quail cock, provoker of splintering or noise or racket, what is this you have done with the bone of hell, which you broke and milled? And now I have come to put it back together, and to put it in its place” (“Tlacuel, tecuzoline, comontecatle, tlen tic-aitia in mictlanomitl: in oticpoztec, in oticxamani. Ca axcan nic-yectecaco in tonacaomitl”). As López Austin (2006, 76) highlighted, in this passage the doctor fights against the quail, provocateur of the fracture of patients’ bones. One discovers, as well, that the bird involved in this process is the quail cock, or tecuhzolin. However, Martín del Campo (1940, 405) states that the tecuhzolin is probably the male of the species Cyrtonyx montezumae. The term tecuhzolin contains the word tecuhtli, “lord.” According to Guilhem Olivier and Leonardo López Luján (2017, 181), some animals defined in Nahuatl as “kings” (tlatoque) or “lords” (tetecuhtin), like iztac mazatl (“white deer”) or atotolin (“pelican”), were considered “the leaders . . . of their species.” Q UA I L I N T H E R ELI G I O U S LI F E O F T H E A N C I EN T N A H UA S

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Another significant detail of this passage is the action of breaking and milling attributed to the bird. In effect, these acts permit one to recognize the quail as the guilty party in the breaking of the bones of humanity, rescued by the Feathered Serpent. The English translation, “milled,” from the verb xamani employed in the Nahuatl text, does not provide a totally correct definition. In fact, this verb means “quebrar, quebrantar xicaras, cacao o cosas semejantes,” or “machucar cañas” (Molina 2008, 1:80r, 99v), which is to say, to smash a very hard object. On the other hand, the verb teci, “moler harina” (Molina 2008, 1:86r), is used to describe the actions of Cihuacoatl-Quilaztli. The goddess mills the broken bones, the same bones that, once mixed with the autosacrificial blood of Quetzalcoatl, will give rise to a new human race. For this reason, this myth provides a clear opposition between the destructive action of the fracture caused by the quail and the creative action of Quilaztli’s milling. The first activity takes place in Mictlan—which permits the quail’s identification as an animal of the underworld as well—while the second takes place in Tamoanchan. Michel Graulich (2000, 113) established a relationship between the bones and the seeds. He pointed out how quails are responsible for the breaking of the bones as well as the destruction of the seed at the time of sowing. In the Relación de Michoacán, the quail is also an agent of transformation. Sirata Tapezi defeats Achuri Hirepe, lord of the underworld, who had defeated and sacrificed Sirata Tapezi’s father, Cupanzueri, in the ball game. Sirata Tapezi takes his father to earth, but he is frightened by the flight of quail and transformed into a deer (Relación de Michoacán 1988, 293–294; Graulich 2000, 184; Olivier 2004, 255–256; 2015, 213). Even though the quail is listed among the fauna that were mistaken at the moment of betting on the cosmic direction of the new sun’s rising, it is also the bird interrogated in order to learn the future.4 This inversion of its mythological role and its ritual role is crucially revealed in a passage from Book 9 of the Florentine Codex. Chapter 8, dedicated to the ceremonies conducted by the merchant who was putting on a banquet, describes a divinatory ritual carried out by means of the interpretation of the flapping body of the bird once it had been decapitated: Listening to the whistles they would say: Our lord has sounded. And then they would take a censer, like a ladle, and grabbed live coals from the fire with it and threw on those coals very clean and very fragrant white copal; they would say that it was their luck, and then a satrap would retire to the courtyard of the house, and a sacristan would carry to him a few quail, and arriving where the

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Figure 8.7. Divination with the quail and positive or negative cosmic directions associated with the body of the earth goddess. Drawing by Elena Mazzetto, after Tlaltecuhtli sculpture, Museo del Templo Mayor, Mexico City. 10-220483. drummer was he would then place the censer in front of him, and forthwith decapitated a quail and threw it on the earth, and there it went fluttering; and he would watch to which part it would go, and if it went fluttering toward the north, which is the right hand of the earth, he would take it as a bad portent, and the lord of the house would say this: I will sicken or I will die; and if the fluttering quail would go to the west, or toward the left hand of the earth, which is mid-day, he would be pleased and would say: god is peaceful, he has no anger toward me. (Sahagún 1969, 2:39)

To understand the position of Tlaltecuhtli, in this context, it is interesting to imagine the goddess lying with her head to the east. Another possibility, perhaps more suitable, is to imagine the goddess of the earth as lying face down. In fact, this position characterizes this telluric being in different Mexican sculptures (figure 8.7).5 The direction taken by the quail’s exsanguinated corpse diagnosed the future health or illness of the lord of the house. According to the work of Juan de Córdoba (1886), however, a quail or a dog was buried in the road that Q UA I L I N T H E R ELI G I O U S LI F E O F T H E A N C I EN T N A H UA S

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went to the house of a patient whose prognosis had been particularly negative. According to Motolinía (1971, 62), it was a little dog made of corn. The presence of these animals was meant to intercept the calamity that would arrive from that direction and to block it.

THE QUAIL AND RITUAL FOOD

In his Libro de los Ritos, Diego Durán shares how, when he asked his Nahua interlocutors why they did not content themselves with the simple offering of this bird, instead of sacrificing men, he received as a reply that these birds “were offerings of low and poor men and that offering men who were captives and prisoners and slaves was the offering of great lords and knights” (Durán 1995, 2:145). This information seems to place the quail in the lowest position in the sacrificial hierarchy. This same distinction manifests itself again in the realm of the ritual food of each monthly feast of the solar year. As is well known, in each twenty-day period a specific dish was consumed, equally related to the divinities being celebrated as well as to the season. In the case of the monthly feast of Etzalcualiztli (“Eating etzalli”), dedicated to Tlaloc and Chalchiuhtlicue in Aztec sources, they prepared etzalli, a posole or stew made with maize and beans mixed together and boiled. The Dominican explains how this food was offered in the temples, where they would add, depending on the means of a given year, “pieces of birds, of cocks and hens and of human flesh” (Durán 1995, 2:262). This passage speaks of a very specific alimentary and sacrificial hierarchy, where the turkey (“cocks and hens”) was the chosen bird to prepare a version of etzalli. We know that turkey meat was most highly valued (Mazzetto, 2023). The next version of etzalli could be prepared with human flesh. This datum allows one to understand that the sacrifice and consumption of birds in ritual food was subordinate, in terms of value, to the sacrifice and consumption of a human being. However, it would be a mistake to think that the information gathered here confirms the absence of quail in the most significant ritual dishes. In effect, this bird was consumed in abundance in an extremely intriguing ceremonial context: that of Toxcatl, the monthly feast dedicated to Tezcatlipoca and to the tutelary Mexica god, Huitzilopochtli (Graulich 2000; Klein 2014; Olivier 2004). Sahagún relates the following: The next day, at dawn, each one in his house made an offering of food to the image of the same Huitzilopochtli, which he had in his house, and all offered quail’s blood before the image that they had placed in the temple. First began

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the lord: he ripped off the heads of four quail, offering them to the idol recently placed there, and then he offered to the satraps and after to all the people, and ripping off the head of the bird, he would throw it before the idol; there it went fluttering until it died, and the lord’s squires and men of war would collect the quail after they had died, and prepare them by plucking, roasting and seasoning, and dividing them among themselves, a portion of them for the lord and a portion for the principals and a portion for the satraps and a portion for the squires. (Sahagún 1969, 1:157)

The same passage in Nahuatl provides more detailed information: And quail were beheaded. Everyone—women, men [did so]. Moctezuma began [the offering]. He himself, with his own hands, beheaded four quail. And the fire priest beheaded still other quail; he only laid his hands on them. Thereupon the commoners broke out; they threw themselves [into it] together. Everyone, men [and] women beheaded quail. And when the quail were beheaded, they cast them toward [the figure of ] Huitzilopochtli; they threw them toward it. And the quail, when their necks were wrung, went fluttering away, they want thrashing, they went striking the earth; they kept throwing themselves to the earth. And the masters of the youths took them up, gathered them up, plucked them, roasted them, salted them; they cured them in brine. Some they destined to Moctezuma, and the rest they destined for his officials—only the noblemen—and also for the masters of the youths, those who were leaders; also, those who were offering priests. (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:73–74)

This massive sacrifice of quail stands out in the sense that the bird became a food shared between the tutelary god—who received its blood—and chosen elite individuals: the sovereign, the tlamacazque priests, and the masters of the youths.6 In this way, the quail was converted into a food destined for a restricted group of nobles and those closest to the sovereign. Perhaps it can be supposed that the flapping of the decapitated birds represented another rite of divination, maybe related more specifically to the destiny that awaited the warriors on the battlefield. In Cuauhtitlan another massive quail-based meal took place in Izcalli. Two ixiptla dressed the flayed skin of the slaves who had represented some female divinity and danced with two slaughtered quails tied to their arms. People threw a massive offering of quails in front of them. The text details the sacrifice of more than 8,000 birds. These were then prepared and eaten by the lords (Motolinía 1971, 62).

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FINAL REMARKS

The sum of the information gathered in these pages demonstrates two key aspects. The first is the clearly multifaceted character of the quail in the mythical and ritual universe of the ancient Nahuas. The second is the necessity of further research on the complex symbolism of this bird, whose presence was perhaps taken for granted in the detailed analysis of each one of its characteristics, physical as well as behavioral. Carrying the starry night on its chest, the quail is an active collaborator in the destruction of the bones of the first men. Despite the fact that its mythical failure before the rising of the diurnal heavenly body marked it as sacrificial fauna, it is the bird that can confirm or prevent the arrival of sickness, chosen to unravel the uncertainty of the future in a mantic ritual strongly connected with the body of the telluric goddess and the ritual food that was the privilege of the elite Mexica during the feast of their tutelary god, Hutzilopochtli. Acknowledgments. I would like to thank Susan Milbrath and Elizabeth Baquedano for the invitation to participate in this book project, Guilhem Olivier for sharing the drawings of Rodolfo Ávila y Elbis Domínguez, and Alaya D. Johnson for the translation of this chapter. I would also like to thank Leonardo López Luján and Judith Alva Sánchez for sharing information about one of the pieces of the Museo del Templo Mayor.

NOTES

1. Alfredo López Austin (1996) describes a Huichol myth about the birth of the sun: “None of the animals mentioned the name of the astral body until the turkey dared to do so, saying, ‘It is going to be called the sun.’ In a violent reaction to the turkey’s interference, the other animals tore the skin off a serpent and hung it around the turkey’s neck. Ever since then, the turkey has had its fleshy protuberances. The quail and the rabbit also uttered the name of the sun but, fearing punishment, ran away as they said it. The other animals tried to capture them among the reeds. They were able to grab them only by their tails, which they yanked off. Since then, the rabbit and the quail have been tailless.” 2. In the Aubin Tonalamatl, Xipe Totec’s head peers out of the open bill of the quail, the fourth of the Thirteen Sacred Birds in the almanac (see chapter 11, this volume, and Seler 1900–1901, 32, 102–103). 3. Other authors mention the association between quail and the gods Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and Mixcoatl-Camaxtli (Baquedano and Graulich 1993, 173–174). 4. On divination in the indigenous cultures of Mexico and in the ancient world, see Olivier and Lambert 2019. 214

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5. On the iconography of Tlaltecuhtli or earth monster, see Klein 1976; Baquedano 1988, 1989; Baquedano and Orton 1990; and López Luján 2010. 6. Elizabeth Baquedano and Michel Graulich (1993, 173–174) consider that this offering was made to Tezcatlipoca, because “he was the god of the night, linked with the earth.” On the confusion of Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca in Panquetzaliztli, see Schwaller (2019, 157, 207).

REFERENCES

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Anath Ariel de Vidas and Perig Pitrou, 167–181. Mexico City: Centro de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos. Mendieta, Gerónimo de. 1971. Historia eclesiástica Indiana. Mexico City: Porrúa. Molina, Alonso de. 2008. Vocabulario en lengua castellana y mexicana. Mexico City: Porrúa. Motolinía [Toribio de Benavente]. 1971. Memoriales o libro de las cosas de la Nueva España y de los naturales de ella. Edited and translated by Edmundo O’Gorman. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas. Olivier, Guilhem. 2004. Burlas y metamórfosis de un dios azteca: Tezcatlipoca, el Señor del espejo humeante. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Olivier, Guilhem. 2007. “¿Modelos europeos o concepciones indígenas? El ejemplo de los animales en el libro XI del Códice Florentino de fray Bernardino de Sahagún.” In El universo de Sahagún: Pasado y presente. Coloquio 2005, edited by José Rubén Romero Galván, 125–139. Mexico City: Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Olivier, Guilhem. 2010. “El simbolismo sacrificial de los Mimixcoa: cacería, guerra, sacrificio e identidad entre los mexicas.” In El sacrificio humano en la tradición religiosa mesoamericana, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Guilhem Olivier, 453–482. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Olivier, Guilhem. 2015. Cacería, sacrificio y el poder en Mesoamérica: Tras las huellas de Mixcóatl, “serpiente de nube.” Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Centro de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos. Olivier, Guilhem, and Jean-Luc Lambert (eds.). 2019. Adivinar para actuar: Miradas comparativas sobre prácticas adivinatorias antiguas y contemporáneas. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas, Centro de Estudios Mexicanos y Centroamericanos. Olivier, Guilhem, and Leonardo López Luján. 2017. “De ancestros, guerreros y reyes muertos. El simbolismo de la espátula rosada (Platalea ajaja) entre los antiguos nahuas.” In Del saber ha hecho su razón de ser: Homenaje a Alfredo López Austin, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma and Ángela Ochoa, 1:159–194. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Osorio, Víctor. 2006. “La codorniz: animal mítico.” Arqueología mexicana 81:16–17. La Relación de Michoacán. 1988. Edited by Francisco Miranda. Mexico City: Secretaría de Educación Pública.

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Relaciones geográficas de México. 1985. 3 vols. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Ruiz de Alarcón, Hernando. 1953. Tratado de las idolatrías, supersticiones, dioses, ritos, hechicerías y otras costumbres gentílicas de las razas aborígenes de México. Mexico City: Fuente Cultural. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–1982. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Monographs of the School of American Research 14. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research; Salt Lake City: University of Utah. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1969. Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España. 4 vols. Mexico City: Porrúa. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1997. Primeros Memoriales: Paleography of Nahuatl Text and English Translation. Translated by Thelma D. Sullivan. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Schwaller, John F. 2019. The Fifteenth Month: Aztec History in the Rituals of Panquetzaliztli. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Seler, Eduard. 1900–1901. The Tonalamatl of the Aubin Collection: An Old Mexican Picture Manuscript in the Paris National Library (Manuscrits Mexicains No. 18–19). London and Aylesbury: Hazell, Watson and Viney. Seler, Eduard. 1963. Comentarios al Códice Borgia. 3 vols. Mexico City and Buenos Aires: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Sierra Longeda, Patricia. 2006. “La codorniz: animal mítico.” Arqueología mexicana 81:18–23. Sullivan, Thelma. 1982. “Tlazolteotl-Ixcuina: The Great Spinner and Weaver.” In The Art and Iconography of Late Post-Classic Central Mexico, edited by Elizabeth Boone and Elizabeth Benson, 7–36. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Tena, Rafael. 2011. Mitos e historia de los antiguos nahuas. Mexico City: Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes. Torquemada, Juan de. 1975–1983. Monarquía indiana: de los veinte y uno libros rituales y monarquía indiana, con el origen y guerras de los indios occidentales, de sus poblazones, descubrimiento, conquista, conversión y otras cosas maravillosas de la misma tierra. 7 vols. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Históricas. Valverde Valdés, María del Carmen. 2004. Balam: El jaguar a través de los tiempos y los espacios del universo maya. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Instituto de Investigaciones Filológicas, Centro de Estudios Mayas. Vauzelle, Loïc. 2018. Tlaloc et Huitzilopochtli: éléments naturels et attributs dans les parures des deux divinités aztèques aux XV et XVI siècles. PhD diss., École Pratique des Hautes Études, Paris. 218

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9 This chapter examines the narrative of the creation of the scorpion known as the legend of Yappan, analyzing the events and participants in the story using Mesoamerican representational tropes from the natural world, including connections with cosmological and zoological forces. In addition, textual analysis of linguistic and metaphoric elements like difrasismos, metaphoric constructions that signify specific concepts, shed light on this intriguing tale. As we will see, comparison between original Nahuatl texts and their translations into Spanish help illuminate how the story has been interpreted through European eyes and how it resonates differently from a Mesoamerican perspective. This study also incorporates images from the pictorial record in hopes of better understanding this fascinating and complicated colonial text. First, let us address the difficulty in seeing what Aztec art conveys when we approach the forms from our modern scientific perspective. Here we can look for some guidance about the interpretation of the natural world offered by Anthony F. Aveni, an archaeoastronomer who has worked extensively in Mesoamerica.

Lessening the Sting Huipil Power and Deadly Scorpions

Jeanne L. Gillespie

ANTHONY AVENI ON SEEKING A COMMON GROUND FOR DISCOVERY

In an essay on how our prior knowledge and cultural understanding shape how we observe the world and attempt to make sense out of the universe, Anthony https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c009

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Aveni describes his contemplation of two Aztec sculptures from the National Museum of Anthropology collection in Mexico City. First, he examines a jadite sculpture of a gourd-squash blossom and its fruit, commenting, “No real-life squash could have looked like this. The artist had rendered a mature ready-to-eat Aztec staple with its attached flower opened to full bloom” (Aveni 1992, 2). Aveni reminds us that if the flower is in full bloom, the squash will not be full grown, and if the squash is ripe, the flower will have withered long before. He surmises that while the artist was quite talented in the execution of a beautiful sculpture, the artist “was not a very keen observer of nature” (Aveni 1992, 2). After coming across another sculpture showing both the tassel phase and the fully ripened ear of corn at the same time, Aveni explains that this representation of the beginning and the end of the maize growth cycle forced him to rethink his previous judgment. “As with the squash, the maize sculpture depicted two stages of growth that can never happen simultaneously” (Aveni 1992, 2). Aveni determines that the artists who made these two works were neither “naïve or inattentive,” as he had first imagined, since their work was quite faithful to the crops they depicted; however, they were expressing their understanding of plant metamorphosis using story lines that we as heirs of linear Darwinian approaches to understanding the natural world may not capture (Aveni 1992, 3). He points out that the complex Maya interpretation of the planet Venus’s cycle and its connections to agricultural patterns based upon the time the planet is out of sight in the sky is another example of how Mesoamericans recognized movements and celestial cycles that Westerntrained scholars have not considered. Aveni calls for scholars and students to seek a common ground for discovery in order to open ourselves to what these ancient observers are expressing (Aveni 1992, 3–4). In the centuries following European documentation of prehispanic arts and texts, for a variety of reasons, many scholars have resisted Aveni’s call for a common ground for discovery. One of the least understood areas of Mesoamerican culture encompasses the roles and power of Mesoamerican women, human and divine. In cultures that cherished equilibrium as powerfully as those of Mesoamerica, the roles and powers of participants in the cosmic and common narratives of life in the region would be balanced between male and female aspects; yet a significant portion of scholarship until the 1970s reflects a meditation on the roles and powers of male characters, leaving female actors to play a secondary role, mostly as mothers of heroes or as seducers aiming to thwart men’s goals. Through study of the Aztec art and ethnohistorical sources, Cecelia Klein (1982, 2000, 2008) has significantly expanded our understanding 220

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of female roles in Aztec culture, but there is still a tendency to see representations of females as somehow subordinate to males, or as the transgressors or the ones making a mistake rather than addressing an issue. Such is the case with the legend of Yappan. This is the story of a warrior named Yappan who is turned into a black scorpion; however, scholars throughout the centuries have interpreted and reinterpreted the legend of Yappan as the temptation and fall of a mighty warrior at the immoral mercy of a seductive temptress, Xochiquetzal. In interpretations of this event scholars have traditionally likened it to the fall of Adam because of Eve’s transgression. Nevertheless, following Aveni’s call to seek a common ground for discovery, a more detailed analysis of the narrative results in unexpected conclusions.

THE LEGEND OF YAPPAN

The account of Yappan was recorded in a collection of Nahuatl invocations, cures, and stories documented by missionary priest Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón (1984, 204–208) in Treatise on the Heathen Superstitions. Ruiz de  Alarcón recorded the original Nahuatl texts so that other missionaries would be able to identify them, and then he translated them into Spanish to help the user understand the Nahuatl. He also added commentary where he thought more explanation was necessary. A comparison between Ruiz de  Alarcón’s documentation of the original indigenous narratives and his Spanish translation reveals the Eurocentric frame used by the missionary to interpret the texts. Although Ruiz de Alarcón’s purpose was to identify pagan practices for eradication, the narratives themselves confirm that many indigenous healing and divination practices were still popular even in 1629, one hundred years after the fall of Tenochtitlan. The legend of Yappan is a tale that sets up two examples of invocations to treat victims of scorpion stings. This introductory narrative describes the creation of scorpions in the first age or “sun.” According to native informants, in a time before the current sun those who were humans would turn into animals and those who were animals would become humans. One particular human, named Yappan (Black Maize Flag Scorpion), wanted to become a powerful animal, so he went to a place called Tehuehuetl (Stone Drum)—in this case probably a stone formation that looked like a drum—to prepare for the next era. In the first age, those that are now animals were men, there was one whose name was Yappan. For the sake of improving his condition in the transmutation

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he felt near, and in order to placate the gods and capture their benevolence, this man went off alone to do penance in abstinence and chastity, and he lived on a rock called the tehuehuetl. (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 204)

A watcher named Yaotl (Enemy/Warrior) accompanied Yappan and oversaw his training. To be powerful in the new era, military training was necessary. One’s countenance also reflected power, so it is probable that Yappan was fasting and abstaining from intercourse as he trained in military skills. As Yappan grew more and more powerful, there was concern among three female divinities, Citlalcueye (Star-Her-Skirt), Chalchiuhtlicue (Precious Jade Skirt), and Xochiquetzal (Flower Quetzal), that Yappan would be converted into a powerful scorpion with lethal venom, so two of them, Citlalcueye and Chalchiuhtlicue, tried to distract Yappan from his training. Nevertheless, he persevered, which pleased his watcher, Yaotl. Because they were unable to neutralize Yappan’s power, Citlalcueye and Chalchiuhtlicue worried that Yappan would become too dangerous if he continued to train, so, according to the narrative, they suggested that their sister, Xochiquetzal, descend to see if she could distract Yappan from his training in order to lessen his power. Xochiquetzal agreed to her sisters’ plan and went to the tehuehuetl to visit Yappan. Although this particular text was collected in the Guerrero region, there are other mountain summits in central Mexico that are called Tehuehuetl. One, in Hidalgo, is a hill whose peak is a bare rock. Another, Cerro Tehuehuetl, can be found in Oaxaca, but is it probable that many mountain communities had a place that looked like a stone drum. More details of the location can be deduced from the conversation that occurs between Xochiquetzal and Yappan, for it is understood that the warrior is somewhere above his visitor, probably on a stone outcropping that looks like a stone drum. Xochiquetzal and Yappan greet each other as “Older Sister” and “Older Brother,” and Xochiquetzal asks how she is to climb up the tehuehuetl (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 204). Yappan descends to help assist her up. The text goes on to say that in the ensuing moments Xochiquetzal “covers him with her huipil,” which “causes him to fail at his purpose.” Even though this is not specifically described as a sexual act, Nahuatl narrative techniques often frame events with ambiguous or suggestive language. The only manner in which Xochiquetzal could cause Yappan to fail would be through a release of the power he was cultivating. That power was both strength and force/essence, and since he was training militarily as well as remaining celibate, the release could only come through defeat in combat or

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ejaculation. Armed with her huipil, Xochiquetzal’s technique was to seduce Yappan and bring on sexual release. In Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars, Susan Milbrath commented that what is interpreted as Xochiquetzal’s “licentious nature” may be connected to her role as a lunar divinity and the natural function of the moon traveling through the night sky. Milbrath explains that over the course of 27 1/3 days, Xochiquetzal, as the moon, travels a path that brings her past different planetary lovers along the way before finally returning to her solar husband for several days each month (Milbrath 1999, 140). In “Xochiquetzal and the Lunar Cult of Ancient Mexico,” Milbrath (2000, 31) points out that this goddess with lunar associations also seems to reign over promiscuous love and fertility. In this encounter Xochiquetzal is employing her skills in sexual exchange to offset a dangerous situation. Yappan’s power is his masculinity; his control of his bodily fluids is essential to his military success. Since he can only be defeated by military force or by loss of force or essence, we understand by inference which power Xochiquetzal’s huipil elicits. When Xochiquetzal “covers” Yappan in her huipil, it is inferred that she achieves Yappan’s ejaculation since she is not fighting him in combat. If we compare the act of ejaculation with the scorpion’s sting, we can see a metaphor for a temporary loss of vitality. After a scorpion has stung a victim and ejected venom from its stinger, it becomes less powerful until it is able to regenerate the venom, which usually takes two to three weeks. The power is now contained in the venom coursing through the victim’s body, which, as we shall see, can be mediated by the wrapping of the huipil around the victim. In the Yappan narrative the huipil is the source of Xochiquetzal’s power. Cecelia Klein has studied the clothing of female divinities in a number of articles (Klein 1982, 2000, 2008). While Klein’s work discusses the Nahua skirt or manta as the source of divine power, it is possible that this is also the garment to which Ruiz de Alarcón refers. Later we will see that the priest calls the huipil “manta” in the healing process as it is wrapped around a scorpion sting victim. This powerful tool and technique will return in the cure. Meanwhile, the sexual act between Xochiquetzal and Yappan evokes the weakening in Yappan’s power. Because Yappan fails at his task, his watcher, Yaotl, becomes outraged and confronts his charge with his misdeed. In the original Nahuatl utterance recorded in the treatise the watcher rages: “Are you not ashamed, bound-by-anoath [Yappan], because you have ruined things? Because of this you will be nothing. . . . The macehualtin (commoners) will call you ‘scorpion.’ I name you ‘Scorpion’ ” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 205; Nahuatl text translated into English by LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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J. Richard Andrews and Ross Hassig). The ruination of Yappan’s power goals has been achieved. He is now powerless, and it is through his own actions that he has failed. This is a bit of a contrast with the missionary’s Spanish translation of the Nahuatl text, which illustrates a more Eurocentric interpretation for this encounter: “No te aueruenças, juramentado yappan de auer pecado? por esso . . . no serás de prouecho alguno, para nada podrás seruir. . . . Los hombres te llamarán alacran y te conozco ya por este nombre.” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1999, 510) “Are you not ashamed bound-by-oath [priest], Yappan, of having sinned? Because of that . . . you will be of no benefit. . . . Men will call you scorpion and I now know you by that name.” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 205; my emphasis)

In addition to translating the original Nahuatl orations, Andrews and Hassig offer English glosses of Ruiz de  Alarcón’s Spanish translation and commentaries. In the missionary’s Spanish translation of the watcher’s comment, the priest chooses the expression “aver pecado” (“having sinned”) instead of “having ruined things.” The Nahuatl text makes no mention of “sin,” although the Spanish priest’s interpretation adds that element. In fact, in The Slippery Earth Louise Burkhart (1989, 28–31) explains that the missionary priests had to invent a way to explain the concept of “sin” to their Mesoamerican charges. For indigenous communities the world was a slippery place, and people often slipped, fell down, and became soiled. The way to right the wrong was a combination of ritual and actual cleansing. Things that were out of balance had to be restored before they became a critical threat, so Xochiquetzal’s action represents the restoration of balance. Nevertheless, for Yappan, the deed is done and Yaotl makes sure he receives additional consequences. After chastising Yappan, Yaotl cuts off his head, transforming him instantly into a black scorpion. In “Sexuality in Maya and Nahuatl Sources” Peter Sigal (2007) has examined the connection between decapitation and castration. For Sigal, Yaotl’s punishment also represents the castration of Yappan after he was “seduced and deceived by Xochiquetzal, one who used her femininity to demand that the man/scorpion adhere to her wishes. She defeated him, and then Yaotl castrated him” (Sigal 2007, 9). In my reading of the Nahuatl narrative, there is no mention of Xochiquetzal’s “femininity” or any demands by her that anyone adhere to her “wishes.” In fact, it appears that her only wish was to restore balance in the universe by 224

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neutralizing this threat. It is only in the priest’s translation that this aspect of the female seducer appears. In the discussion of the same event in his book The Flower and the Scorpion, Sigal (2011, 170) suggests that “in this text, castration becomes the central metaphor.” Sigal confirms that “instead of using any direct ‘sexual’ terminology, the Nahuatl text describes Yappan’s actions related to the results, both internal and external. Internally, the text suggests that Yappan should feel shame (pinahua), while externally his actions were ruinous (tlatlaco). The narrative presents these two terms, shame and ruin, as parallel to each other suggesting that within Nahuatl discourse sexual shame led to ruin” (Sigal 2011, 170). Here Sigal is using Yaotl’s chastising statements to explain his action of decapitating the already neutralized warrior, who is also now defeated through violent action. While the concepts of ruin and shame do reflect the dangers of causing an imbalance as characteristic of Mesoamerican thought, the threat has already been removed. Why does Yaotl have to decapitate the warrior? This suggests that, instead of the castration act proposed by Sigal’s interpretation, the central metaphor may have to do with the act of the creation of the black scorpion by decapitation. In any case, Yappan’s story is not over. Still enraged at his charge’s deed, Yaotl finds Yappan’s wife, Tlahuitzin (Burning One), and cuts off her head as well, changing her into the red scorpion. In the account of the events edited by Miguel León-Portilla, Yaotl explains to Tlahuitzin that she must be punished because she is a spy and treacherous (León-Portilla 1958, 6). Interestingly, while Yappan’s punishment appears to be for an obvious transgression, the narrative examined in this study provides no evidence of any wrongdoing on the part of Tlahuitzin. In addition, we cannot interpret this same act of decapitation as castration since Tlahuitzin does not have a penis. Sigal does not mention the presence or fate of Tlahuitzin in either of his publications, and omitting her transformation into a red scorpion while her husband is transformed into a black scorpion misses an important point: the creation of not one but two scorpions through the decapitation of a married couple is an important message in the narrative. Although Sigal uses a Mesoamerican frame and demonstrates that Xochiquetzal is performing her duty to restore balance to the world and that this narrative probably also refers to auto-penitential rites like penis perforation (Sigal 2011, 170–171), he has not been able to cultivate a common ground for discovery that analyzes and explains the depth of participation by Tlahuitzin or even by the other three female participants. Upon further investigation into the account, it becomes clear no punishment is meted out at all against the supposed seducer, Xochiquetzal. While LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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Yappan is castigated twice and Tlahuitzin, his wife, is punished for no apparent injustice, Xochiquetzal is actually the hero of the story. Xochiquetzal’s efforts have helped save people from venomous scorpions since in light of Xochiquetzal’s rectification of the imbalance, her sister Citlalcueye declared that people will not die from the scorpion’s sting. Not only has Yappan’s power been neutralized, but the sting of the black scorpion also will not kill humans, nor will that of the red scorpion as a result of Tlahuitzin’s decapitation. After settling the issue of the lethal scorpion, Citlalcueye determines that it is Yaotl who should be punished for overreaching in his violent attack on Yappan and Tlahuitzin. Yaotl is forced to wear the severed head of Yappan and is changed into an insect called tzontecommama (“head carrier”) or ahuaca chapullin (“avocado locust”) (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 205). Citlalcueye, whose name means “Starry Skirt,” is one of the female divinities named as one who sacrificed herself in the account of the creation of the sun. Klein (2000, 48–51) explains that she is the genitrix of the gods and the stellar bodies and the personification of the Milky Way. If she is to judge the event, her authority comes from this position of power and, as Klein has suggested, her power may emanate from her skirt. The other sister participating in this encounter, Chalchiuhtlicue, is also named for her powerful skirt. Chalchiuitl is the Nahua word for “jade,” “green,” or “preciousness,” so her name can be translated as “jade-her-skirt.” Not by coincidence, she is the personification of “contained or collected waters,” including lakes, ponds, streams, rivers, oceans, and so forth. Like Xochiquetzal (the Moon), Citlalcueye (the Milky Way) and Chalchiuhtlicue (Contained Waters) were active among their male counterparts in the cosmic geography. Two of the three wear skirts that reflect their name and channel their power. This short narrative has generated many, many pages of commentary throughout the ages. Much of the discussion reflects a framing of the passage as a Mesoamerican version of Adam and Eve and original sin. If we compare Ruiz de Alarcón’s Spanish translation of the Nahuatl in the passages above, we can see elements of Christianity coloring the narrative, especially in the case of calling the action of Yappan “sinning,” as opposed to the original text, “ruining things.” If we peel away some of the Eurocentric value judgments expressed in the missionary priest’s translation and reflected in every analysis of this event since then, we begin to understand that a sexual encounter with the goddess is less a “sin” or “pecado” and more the resolution for a situation of imbalance caused by Yappan’s preparations to become more powerful. Here Xochiquetzal embodies the cure, not the sin. The work of Xochiquetzal, through her technique of 226

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covering Yappan with her huipil, results in the release of the pressure of the buildup of semen in order to diminish the power, specifically military power, of Yappan. The idea that male military power is linked to the presence or absence of semen is not an isolated concept. An account in the Primeros Memoriales illustrates that the opposite, using up too much semen, can also affect military prowess. Friar Bernardino de Sahagún (1997, 244) describes the actions of a youth who has indulged too much in insatiable sex and refers to him as “oldwomanish.” Because of the youth’s excess, he could not perform his duty as a warrior, and the community suffered a drought and an ensuing famine. Sahagún’s informants blamed the famine on a lack of sacrificial captives to feed the gods because captives were not taken in the Flowery Wars. “It was said that he [the youth] impeded something in battle; he hindered the eagle jaguar warriors. And it was said that he ill-used, he defiled the upright drum [huehuetl], the watching of the city.” Because of this transgression, “none of the noblemen, the eagle jaguar warriors took captives” (Sahagún 1997, 244). Interesting that this account also mentions the huehuetl and how the sexual excess of the youth has “ill-used” and “defiled” or ruined the drum. While not part of this analysis, the huehuetl, an important instrument in military music, is also often a metaphor for the penis, and this may be why the encounter between Yappan and Xochiquetzal takes place on a tehuehuetl (“stone drum”). The link between a scorpion sting and sexual intercourse is implied with both metaphoric language and with images. The venom emanating from the scorpion’s tail serves as a metaphor for the act of ejaculation. Too much semen can cause an imbalance of too much power; not enough causes the opposite effect.

RESTORING BALANCE: FINDING THE CURE

At this point in the scorpion sting cure, the narrative transitions from Yappan’s attempt to gain lethal force to that of healing the victim of the scorpion’s sting. The actual cure instructs the healer to wrap the patient in her huipil (or manta) and, using the voice of Xochiquetzal, to chastise the “brother scorpion” while gently caressing and nurturing the person afflicted. The power of the huipil in the hands of the healer is significant. The therapeutic nature of the huipil creates the environment for the healer’s techniques. Then the healer addresses Yappan in an incantation: “Come priest, Yappan-Thorn-curve, where is it that you have stung us? It is right there in our needed place. You will not pass my boundary” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 206). With this incantation the healer removes a tie from her hair and ties off the LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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affected body part (if possible) to keep the venom from reaching the organs of the body. This cord is tied like a snare often used to catch prey. This, as we shall see, also has cosmological connections. Following this passage, the narrative incorporates another, more detailed incantation that introduces a new actor, who is identified as Piltzintecuhtli (Young Lord). According to the priest’s account, Piltzintecuhtli was destined to be a deer in the new world age in which Yappan was to be a deadly scorpion. Now, since Yappan’s power has been neutralized, Piltzintecuhtli has dominion over the scorpion as well. Piltzintecuhtli speaks to the scorpion who has stung the victim: It is I in person, I am the priest, Seven Flower [i.e., the male deer]. Come (pl.) priest, Yappan, thorn-curve. Why is it that you are making fun of people? Do you not already know, does your heart not already know that in order to make you break your fast, my older sister, Xochiquetzal, went there on top of Stonedrum, there where you mocked her? There is nothing you can do. There is nothing that you can accomplish. Go over there far away in order to make fun of people. (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 206–207)

This utterance is similar to that of Xochiquetzal. Notice that Piltzintecuhtli also calls her “my sister.” The incantation also calls on Tlaltecuhtli (Earth Lord), from whose body all things grow, as “my mother” and calls for the application of a remedy made from tobacco known as piciete to the wound to help extract the venom. The healer as Piltzintecuhtli admonishes the scorpion while rubbing the treatment on the victim’s sting: “Let him [Yappan] step aside for you just quietly. Will it be perchance by-and-by tomorrow, will it be perchance by-and-by the day after tomorrow that he will go? Indeed, it will be immediately at this instant. If he will not go, if he will not leave, indeed I am still the one who knows what I will do to him” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 207). If the victim does not respond well to the cure, once again Xochiquetzal returns and removes a cord from her hair to tie off the body part affected in hopes of speeding along the recovery. Xochiquetzal again addresses Yappan: “My older brother, are you not ashamed that you . . . [harm] people?” and then she tightens the cord, saying, “I have come here to tie you up. I have come here to intercept you. Just here your gift is ending. You will not pass” (Ruiz de Alarcón 1984, 208). The healing practice described here offers insight into several aspects of the encounter between Xochiquetzal and Yappan. First, Xochiquetzal’s act of “covering Yappan with her huipil” neutralized his power, and by performing the same act—literally using a huipil to cover a sting victim—the healer intends to 228

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soothe the victim. Second, if necessary, there is an additional step to the cure that includes using the cord binding Xochiquetzal’s hair to tie off the venom. The third element is the presence of Piltzintecuhtli, who also can perform the incantation and cure on a scorpion sting victim. Piltzintecuhtli assists in defeating Yappan’s venom in the victim.

HOW DOES THE DEER FIT IN?

While Xochiquetzal saves the world from potential harm from Yappan with her treatment and in the second version she and Piltzintecuhtli are able to heal scorpion stings together, the most intriguing aspect of the cure itself is the use of the cord with which Xochiquetzal ties her hair. This is the cord she removes to tie off the afflicted area of the sting to keep the venom from poisoning the victim. It also figures prominently in several difrasismos related to punishment. In Los difrasismos en el nahuatl de los siglos XVI y XVII, Mercedes Montes de Oca Vega (2013, 190) identifies seven difrasismos or metaphoric word pairs that signify “punishment.” These include In cauhuitl, in tetl (stick and rock); in colotl, in tzitzicatli (scorpion and nettles); in atl cecec, tzitzicatli (cold water and nettles); in atl itztic, in atl cecec (hot water and cold water); in chilli, in pochtli (chile and smoke); in tzonhuaztli, in tlazapochtli (hunting snare and hole); and in tzonhuaztli, in mecatl (hunting snare and rope). These were all elements used to punish those who broke the rules. For example, “stick and rock” invokes the punishment for drunkenness and adultery. Male and female adulterers caught in the act were stoned and/or beaten to death. Drunken students of the tepochcalli who were training to be warriors could be beaten with sticks, even to death (Montes de Oca 2013, 191). The punishment of scorpions and nettles suggests the pain of the scorpion’s sting and equates it with that of the nettles. In many cases bunches of nettles were used to beat those being punished, causing intense stinging and itching. Montes de Oca Vega (2013, 193) mentions that Clavijero documented a plant called colotzitizcazti (scorpion nettle) that may have been a popular variety of nettle for punishment. This difrasismo’s incorporation of the scorpion as an element of punishment invokes the fate of both Yappan and Tlahuitzin in their punishment by Yaotl. It also hints at Xochiquetzal’s attempt to punish Yappan for stinging the victim she is curing. Punishment and the scorpion sting are clearly related in Mesoamerican concepts. For example, John Carlson and Ron Cherry (1996, 155) mention that at Cacaxtla prisoners to be sacrificed to Venus may have been punished or tortured with scorpion stings. LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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Figure 9.1. Round-bodied scorpion constellation holding a deer ensnared with a cord in its telson. The Madrid Codex–Codex Cortesianus (Rosny 1883) page 48.

Stinging and burning pain as punishment is also reflected in the use of cold water and nettles as well as hot water and cold water. The school for nobles, the calmecac, used cold water and nettles or its variation, cold and hot water, to punish errant students. The Codex Mendoza (1938, fol. 60r) illustrates the use of smoke from chiles burned in fire to irritate or punish children. The final two difrasismos that sometimes occur as a three-part image of hunting snare, hole, and rope remind us of the punishment that the healer metes out to Yappan for stinging a person. In the gravest incidents Xochiquetzal would take the cord (or rope) out of her hair and tie up the affected body part (like a snare) to keep Yappan’s venom contained. A version of the text collected by Jacinto de la Serna in the early seventeenth century very carefully explained how to tie the cord properly: “Y apretando el cordel, ó cintas de la cabeza va haziendo vn character circular rodeando las ligaduras vnas junto á otras, como que lo ata, y ciñe.” (“And tightening the cord or hair ribbons, the healer makes a circular character, wrapping the ligatures, one inside the next, as if tying off and cinching it”) (Serna 2003 [1953], 185; my translation). These types of snares were also often used to capture deer, so this also invokes the presence of Piltzintecuhtli as the deer, and in other contexts the 230

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Figure 9.2. Two scorpion constellations/asterisms with different body shapes ensnaring deer with cords. The upper scorpion has a rounded body typical of female scorpions while the lower scorpion has the elongated body of a male scorpion. Codex Madrid (Rosny 1883, 44).

deer and scorpion seem to be linked. The collection of cures and incantations complied by Ruiz de  Alarcón also contains incantations for successful deer hunting with snares. Several images in the Madrid Codex, including the one in figure 9.1, portray a celestial connection between scorpions and deer using snares. Madrid Codex 44 offers another representation of scorpion asterisms or constellations LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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holding deer in snares (figure 9.2). Susan Milbrath (1999, 264) suggests that there is probably a deer asterism as well as the scorpion asterisms. Figure 9.2 shows two scorpions of different body types holding ensnared deer in hands that symbolize stingers. Although not lethal, scorpions from the Buthidae family are the largest and most venomous in Mexico, and their gender differences in body shape are similar to those illustrated in figure 9.2. Females have rounded bodies, while male Buthidae are more cylindrical in shape.

SCORPIONS IN THE STARS

The identification of the scorpion asterisms with specific stars or constellations is complicated, however. J. Eric Thompson (1974) sheds some light on a possible connection in Sahagún with a scorpion asterism in Ursa Major and another called Zinnan in Yucatec associated with the constellation known as Scorpius: Native terms (xok and tzec,) meaning scorpion, are given by the Kekchi Maya and the Chaneabal Maya to the Great Bear. . . . Moreover, the great sixteenthcentury ethnologist, Bernardino de Sahagún . . . , wrote that the Aztecs called the Great Bear (carro) scorpion. In his Nahuatl writings he illustrates the scorpion (colotl) constellation with a perfect drawing of the Great Bear. . . . The earliest (sixteenth century) Yucatec-Maya dictionary has the entry: “zinnan, scorpion (alacrán o escorpión) and also it is escorpio, celestial sign.” Signo (sign) as in English, is used in reference to the zodiac. (Thompson 1974, 93)

In Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars, Milbrath (1999) identifies multiple references to scorpion asterisms. The Tojolabal identify a scorpion constellation in Ursa Major; the Tzotzil in Chiapas and the Yucatec Maya in Quintina Roo recognize the scorpion in the constellation Scorpius. Other Yucatecan sources describe a large constellation running from Gemini or Orion to Sirius (Milbrath 1999, 264). Carlson and Cherry (1996, 149) link the Yucatec constellation Zinnan (Scorpius), described by Thompson, to page 22 in the Codex Paris, showing an image of a scorpion with an eclipse sign in its stinger (figure 9.3). This same constellation from the Codex Paris is also interpreted as an image of Scorpius by Harvey and Victoria Bricker (2011) in the most detailed study of this zodiac to date. If the Yucatec scorpion asterism on the ecliptic, Zinnan, represents the constellation Scorpius and the Maya ethnographic accounts link Ursa Major to the scorpion, it appears that there are two important scorpion constellations. 232

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Figure 9.3. Scorpion constellation holding the sign for eclipse in its telson and two others on the ecliptic. From the Paris Codex, page 22 (Willard 1933, 22), Northwestern University Libraries, Web Archive Collection.

Jesús Galindo Trejo (1994, 90–91, 95) cites Tezozomoc and other sources that mention two scorpion constellations, including a large asterism in the region of Ursa Major, and a scorpion star in the south known as Escorpión (Scorpius). Galindo Trejo (1994, 95) also suggests that the presence of Tlahuitzin in the Yappan narrative is linked to the fact that there are two scorpion asterisms.

WHAT ABOUT THE RED SCORPION, TLAHUITZIN?

When we examine prehispanic and colonial sources for more information on the representation of scorpions in Mesoamerica, it appears that the connection to Tlahuitzin seems to be related to the red scorpions native to Mexico, which are frequently portrayed in Mesoamerican divinatory and calendric documents. Both red and black scorpions represented in Mesoamerican LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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Figure 9.4. Male divinity identified as God L with scorpion thorax and tail holding a cord in his telson that binds a prisoner. From the Madrid Codex, page 31 (Rosny 1883).

narratives are probably variations of the scorpion species Centruroides gracilis in the family Buthidae, commonly known as the bark scorpion. Its coloring ranges from a dark ash gray/black with reddish to black appendages to red with yellow markings and/or appendages. The dark scorpions also may appear as blue. Female Centruroides have a thick roundish body while males are more cylindrical. As seen in figure 9.2, the Madrid Codex depicts two differently shaped scorpions in star form catching deer with a snare. This suggests not only two asterisms or constellations, but also a male cylindrical-shaped scorpion and a female scorpion asterism with a rounded body. Buthidae is one of only four venomous families found in Mexico. The genus is listed as one of medical importance as the venom is a poisonous neurotoxin, but scorpion stings are not normally lethal in healthy adults. This scorpion is common throughout Mexico and is prevalent in the Maya region and along the Gulf Coast. The Maya codices reflect instances of male figures with scorpion thoraxes and tails, which have been related to Venus, as noted in the discussion to follow (figure 9.4). In exploring the codices and other pictorial sources for scorpion knowledge, we find that red or red and yellow scorpions are specifically linked to several 234

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Figure 9.5. Detail from a marriage almanac showing a scene with a red and yellow scorpion between a male and a female figure. From the Codex Vaticanus B, page 85 (Kingsborough 1831).

events that accompany images of female participants and figure prominently in several almanacs that predict success in marriage. Red and yellow scorpions are found in the Borgia, the Laud, and the Vaticanus B almanacs for divination in choosing suitable partners. In “Xochiquetzal and the Lunar Cult of Central Mexico,” Susan Milbrath (2000) comments that in both the Codex Vaticanus B 85 and Codex Borgia 59 a scorpion separates the couple, with the bride identified as Xochiquetzal by her flowered headdress and/or patterned hulpil (figures 9.5, 9.6). In the Vaticanus scene the male figure looks at his partner while she looks upward at a red and yellow scorpion. In the Borgia image the partners appear to be dancing, wearing headpieces of opossum (male) and deer (female), although the female is looking away from her partner. It is quite probable that the red and yellow scorpion involved in the divination of matrimonial outcomes invokes Tlahuitzin, who became a scorpion for her supposed treachery, and that prognostications associated with scenes where the red scorpion is present may not result in a successful union because of the spying or suspicious nature of one of the prospective partners. The abundance of symbols related to Xochiquetzal may also suggest the potential for an unfaithful partner to cause failure in the relationship. Many of the female participants in the Codex Borgia marriage almanac scenes wear the floral headdress typical of Xochiquetzal. The scene with the scorpion between the figures shows a pair of spindles and whorls under the female image, which LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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Figure 9.6. Scene from a marriage almanac showing a red and yellow scorpion between a male and a female figure (left column, center row). The spindle whorls under the female image are accoutrements of Xochiquetzal. From the Codex Borgia (1976, 59).

are also associated with Xochiquetzal. Milbrath (2000, 42) comments that it is unclear why Xochiquetzal is portrayed in so many scenes, but given her lunar association and her multiple partners mentioned in mythology, her promiscuous nature may reflect the moon’s rapid movement through the sky (Milbrath 2000, 51–52). In addition to exercising her power against Yappan’s threat to mortal existence, Xochiquetzal was an expert in relationships as she traveled through the sky on a nightly journey and found many suitable lovers. Those dedicated to the service of Xochiquetzal would also be able to read the 236

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almanacs to offer advice for marriage success. It is possible that the diviners who consulted the manuscripts emulated the lunar goddess in a similar fashion as the healers copied Xochiquetzal’s words and actions with regard to curing the scorpion sting. Other red and yellow scorpions are associated with calendrical information, especially with day counts in relation with Xiuhtecuhtli, the Fire God, which makes sense given the fierce burning caused by a scorpion sting (Borgia 13). This association with Xiuhtecuhtli might also indicate that the second scorpion cosmological manifestation is a star or some other celestial body. Nevertheless, I believe that the red scorpion’s cosmic manifestation would be equivalent to the black scorpion’s constellation or asterism since they were created in the same manner according to the Yappan story. In some situations, scorpion couples or images of male and female figures with scorpion attributes occur together. Carlson and Cherry (1996, 150–154) discuss the Maya Venus Scorpion Man cult and its connection to the murals found at the Central Mexican site of Cacaxtla. The male Venus figure at Cacaxtla boasts a red scorpion tail. In other publications Carlson (1991, 1993) has studied the distribution of the Scorpion Venus cult and determined that it was not only prevalent in the Maya area and Tlaxcala but also extended further throughout Mesoamerica (Carlson and Cherry 1996, 156; see also Milbrath 1999, 211). Carlson and Cherry (1996) also discuss the blue Chaac with a scorpion tail from the Madrid Codex 31 (figure 9.7). The Madrid Codex 11 shows a woman with a scorpion tail accompanying two images of Chaac (figure 9.8). Eduard Seler (1996, 337) suggests that this woman might also be related to the Red Goddess (Chak Chel/Goddess O), and proposing a similar identification, Milbrath (1999, 142–143, 264) links her to the aged Moon Goddess, who sometimes bears a name that includes the word for “red,” shown in conjunction with the scorpion constellation. According to Carlson and Cherry (1996, 151), both the images from Cacaxtla and the figure of Chaac on Codex Madrid 31 are in the posture of the scorpion ritual dance. This clearly relates to scorpion behavior. Scorpions, including the Centruroides, practice a mating dance in which the male scorpion grasps the female’s claws with his and dances her around and massages her abdomen until she is willing to accept the spermatophore into a hole in her body (Carlson and Cherry 1996, 156). After fertilization it is not uncommon for the female to kill and eat the male. The scorpion dance posture in which the female scorpion faces the male scorpion and they travel connects the two arachnids in a long line that follows complex movements to achieve their goal. If we return to the asterisms and LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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Figure 9.7. Blue Chaac with scorpion tail in the crouched position identified by Carson and Cherry as the scorpion mating dance with water/ rain emerging from the figure’s loins (Madrid 31).

apply the image of the dance, on certain dates the red scorpion in Ursa Major to the north is directly opposite Scorpius, which is located on the ecliptic in the southern part of the Milky Way. In fact, the handle of the Big Dipper (a star group within Ursa Major) is actually used as a pointer to locate the constellation Scorpius, but they are at opposite sides of the sky. That these occur in opposition even more strongly supports the possibility of two scorpion asterisms, and with that, the scorpion dance may be related to movements of the paired constellations in the night sky. Ursa Major in the northern part of the sky is in an important position because the stars seem to rotate around that area of the sky in the area of Mesoamerica (10–30 degrees latitude north; Milbrath 1999, fig. 7.8b). If Yappan is the Mesoamerican version of the constellation Scorpius and Tlahutzin is directly opposite him in Ursa Major, the couple, despite their issues with fidelity, dance across the night sky. There are two scorpions in the story because it is written in the stars.

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Figure 9.8. Female divinity with a scorpion tail identified by Seler as the Red Goddess (Chak Chel/Goddess O) and by Milbrath as the Moon Goddess. From the Madrid Codex, page 11 (Rosny 1883).

CONCLUDING REMARKS

The story of Yappan has revealed the importance of two scorpion characters, one male, one female. Like Aveni’s squash with the blossom still attached, the story of Yappan communicates more than a simple narrative of the defeat of a warrior, or even the creation of scorpions; it is a sky map, a healing cure, a world view, and a repository for geographic information. This story offers clues that help unlock the mysteries of the Mesoamerican cosmos for those who are willing to dig deeply. The tale of the scorpions has been interpreted over the centuries from a very Eurocentric perspective in which a woman’s transgression leads to the downfall of a powerful warrior. A closer reading, however, indicates that this is not the message at all. It is the release of potentially deadly power through Xochiquetzal’s act of covering Yappan with her huipil, which protects the world from lethal scorpion stings and from the power Yappan was developing through his training. This action also provides a cure for those who do become a victim of a scorpion. Xochiquetzal’s huipil comforts sting victims by wrapping them up and coaxing out the venom. At the same time she comforts the victim, she chastises the scorpion for its transgression. After the cure is administered, balance is restored. Perhaps this balance is why both the black and the red scorpion must be punished. The ensuing punishment of Yappan and his wife, Tlahuitzin, after Yappan’s encounter with Xochiquetzal suggests that a scorpion pair holds LES S EN I N G T H E S T I N G

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important power. Tlahuitzin, the red scorpion, is connected with the fire divinity, Xiuhtecuhtli, and the lunar goddess, Xochiquetzal, in the divinatory matrimonial codices. The red scorpion’s presence in scenes with Xiuhtecuhtli in the calendar codices suggests a close connection with fire. Tlahuitzin is also associated with places where hot or boiling water emerge. Scorpion stings are hot and painful like burning water, so this also seems an appropriate place for her. While it is clear that the narrative of Yappan is complex and multidimensional, we can tease out a variety of messages. First, and most obvious, in Mesoamerica balance was an organizing principle, so when balance was threatened, sometimes decisive and violent actions had to be taken. Scorpion lore is very prevalent, reflected in scorpion biology, cosmological references, visual narratives of sociocultural practices, healing potions, and oral incantations. Perhaps Tlahuitzin has to die because the night sky shows two scorpions facing off in a cosmic dance. Tlahuitzin’s characteristics as a scorpion, hiding under rocks and lurking around, may be the source for the accusations of spying and treachery, which would certainly mark one or both partners as risky matrimonial prospects. In response to the scorpion’s transgression in stinging a community member, practitioners had to use Xochiquetzal’s power-charged huipil and re-create the shaming words of Yaotl while using a cord to tie off the afflicted body part in order to comfort the victim. The three sisters, Chalchiuhtlicue, Citlalcueye, and Xochiquetzal, who are actually addressed as “older sister” by the healers and by each other throughout the rituals and incantations collected by the missionary priest, participate in many other healing events. It is quite probable that these incantations have cosmic, textual, and biological signifiers that remind practitioners of the ritual procedures and the healing techniques for keeping their communities safe and healthy. If the information to perform important events and rituals is inscribed in the stars and in the local flora, fauna, and geography, a community that can read their messages will be able to preserve their practices as long as people recognize the signs or remember the stories. Not only the codices but also the night sky served as mnemonic devices where the information for specific rituals could be accessed.

REFERENCES

Aveni, Anthony F. 1992. Conversing with the Planets: How Science and Myth Invented the Cosmos. New York: Times Books. Bricker, Harvey, and Victoria Bricker. 2011. Astronomy in the Maya Codices. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. 240

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Burkhart, Louise. 1989. The Slippery Earth: Nahua-Christian Moral Dialogue in Sixteenth-Century Mexico. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Carlson, John B. 1991. Venus-Regulated Warfare and Ritual Sacrifice in Mesoamerica: Teotihuacan and the Cacaxtla “Star Wars” Connection. Technical Publication 7. College Park, MD: Center for Archaeoastronomy. Carlson, John B. 1993. “Venus-regulated Warfare and Ritual Sacrifice in Mesoamerica.” In Astronomies and Cultures, edited by Clive L. N. Ruggles and Nicholas J. Saunders, 202–252. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Carlson, John B., and Ron Cherry. 1996. “Arthropods in Astronomy.” American Entomologist 42 (3): 149–158. Codex Borgia. 1976. Codex Borgia: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Cod. Borg. Messicano 1): vollst. Faks.-Ausg. des Codex im Originalformat. Edited by Karl Anton Nowotny. Graz, Austria: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt. https://archive.org/details /codex-borgia/page/n58/mode/1up. Codex Madrid. See Rosny 1883. Codex Mendoza. 1938 [ca. 1541]. Codex Mendoza, the Mexican Manuscript Known as the Collection of Mendoza and Preserved in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. https:// wiki2.org/en/Codex_Mendoza+Brights.6#/media/File:Codex_Mendoza_folio _60r.jpg. Codex Paris. See Willard 1933. Codex Vaticanus B. See Kingsborough 1831. Galindo Trejo, Jesús. 1994. Arqueoastronomía en la América Antigua. Mexico City: Editorial Equipo Sirius. Kingsborough, Lord (Edward King). 1831. “Codex Vaticanus B.” In Antiquities of Mexico, 3:267–315. https://pueblosoriginarios.com/meso/valle/borgia/vaticano /vaticano-b.html. Klein, Cecelia. 1982. “Woven Heaven, Tangled Earth: A Weaver’s Paradigm of the Mesoamerican Cosmos.” In Ethnoastronomy and Archaeoastronomy in the American Tropics, edited by Anthony F. Aveni and Gary Urton, 1–35. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 385. New York: New York Academy of Sciences. Translated and reprinted in Cielos e inframundos: Una revision de las cosmologías mesoamericanas, edited by Ana Guadalupe Díaz, 219–256. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México: Fideicomiso Felipe y Monserrat Alfau de Teixidor, 2015. Klein, Cecelia. 2000. “The Devil and the Skirt: An Iconographic Inquiry into Prehispanic Nature of the Tzitzimime.” Ancient Mesoamerica 11 (1): 1–26. Klein, Cecelia. 2008. “A New Interpretation of the Aztec Statue Known as Coatlicue, ‘Snakes-Her-Skirt.’ ” Ethnohistory 55 (2): 229–250.

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León-Portilla, Miguel. 1958. “La Leyenda del Alacrán.” Revista de La Universidad de México 3 (November): 6. Milbrath, Susan. 1999. Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars. Austin: University of Texas Press. Milbrath, Susan. 2000. “Xochiquetzal and the Lunar Cult of Central Mexico.” In In Chalchihuitl in Quetzalli: Precious Greenstone, Precious Feather: Mesoamerican Studies in Honor of Doris Heyden, edited by Elizabeth Quiñones Keber, 31–54. Lancaster City, CA: Labyrinthos. Montes de Oca Vega, Mercedes. 2013. Los difrasismos en el nahuatl de los siglos XVI y XVII. Mexico: UNAM. https://www.iifilologicas.unam.mx/ebooks/los-difrasismos -en-el-nahuatl/. Rosny, Léon de. 1883. Codex Cortesianus. Paris: Libraires de la Société d’Ethnographie. https://archive.org/details/madrid_rosny_bb/page/n7/mode/2up. Ruiz de Alarcón, Hernando. 1984. Treatise on the Heathen Superstitions That Today Live among the Indians Native to This New Spain, 1629. Translated by James Richard Andrews and Ross Hassig. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Ruiz de Alarcón, Hernando. 1999. Tratado de las supersticiones y costumbres gentílicas que hoy viven entre los indios naturales de esta Nueva España / Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón; notas, comentarios y un estudio de Francisco del Paso y Troncoso. Alicante: Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes. http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/obra -visor/tratado-de-las-supersticiones-y-costumbres-gentilicas-que-hoy-viven-entre -los-indios-naturales-de-esta-nueva-espana--0/html/. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–1982. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Translated by Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. Santa Fe, NM: School for American Research. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1997. Primeros Memoriales, Part 2: Paleography of Nahuatl Text and English Translation. Paleography by Thelma B. Sullivan, completed and revised by H. B. Nicholson, Arthur J. O. Anderson, Charles E. Dibble, Eloise Quiñones Keber, and Wayne Ruwet. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Seler, Eduard. 1996. “Spiders, Scolopendra, and Scorpions.” In Collected Works in Mesoamerican Linguistics and Archaeology, translated by Charles Bowditch, 5:331–339. Lancaster City, CA: Labyrinthos. Serna, Jacinto de la. 2003 [1953]. “Tratado de las supersticiones, idolatrías, hechicerías, y otras costumbres de las razas aborígenes de México.” https://biblioteca.org.ar /libros/89613.pdf. Sigal, Peter. 2007 (revised in 2010). “Sexuality in Maya and Nahuatl Sources.” In Sources and Methods for the Study of Postconquest Mesoamerican Ethnohistory, edited

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by Stephanie Wood, James Lockhart, and Lisa Sousa. Wired Humanities Projects, University of Oregon. http://whp.uoregon.edu/Lockhart/index.html. Sigal, Peter. 2011. The Flower and the Scorpion: Sexuality and Ritual in Early Nahua Culture. Durham: Duke University Press. Thompson, John Eric S. 1974. “Maya Astronomy.” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society A: Mathematical, Physical and Engineering Sciences 276 (1257): 83–98. https://doi.org/10.1098/rsta.1974.0011. Willard, Theodore A. (ed.). 1933. Codex Perez; An Ancient Mayan Hieroglyphic Book, A photographic facsimile reproduced from the original in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris. Glendale, CA: Arthur H. Clark Company. https://wayback.archive-it.org/6321 /20160901163028/http://digital.library.northwestern.edu/codex/codex.html.

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10 Dressed to Kill Richly Adorned Animals in the Offerings of the Great Temple of Tenochtitlan

Leonardo López Luján, Alejandra Aguirre Molina, and Israel Elizalde Mendez

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INTRODUCTION

Since its foundation in 1978, one of the main missions of the Templo Mayor Project (PTM) of Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) has been to study the ritual deposits buried between the fourteenth and sixteen centuries in the religious buildings, patios, and plazas of Tenochtitlan’s sacred precinct (e.g., Aguirre 2020b; Chávez 2007, 2017; López Arenas 2003; López Luján 1993, 2006; Matos 1988; Nagao 1985; Olmo 1999; Wagner 1982). Thus far, we have explored 204 of these extremely interesting areas of activity, which have made us realize not only their exceptional richness—as one would expect from a great empire—but also the unusual diversity of minerals, plants, animals, human beings, and cultural objects that were buried in such confined spaces (López Luján 1993, 2005, 2006, 2017). This richness and diversity of materials, along with their strict order of placement inside ashlar boxes, stone coffers, construction fill, or holes dug beneath floors, undoubtedly follow the intention of Mexica priests to produce true cosmograms—that is, miniature models that materially recreated their prevailing ideas about the structure and operation of the universe (Aguirre 2020b; Argüelles 2019; López Luján 1993, 1998, 2005, 2020). More than four decades of uninterrupted work by several generations of PTM specialists have also enabled us to continually refine our protocols for excavating and recording ritual deposits (figure 10.1). As a https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c010

Figure 10.1. Antonio Marín Calvo excavating Offering 179 at the Templo Mayor. Photograph by Mirsa Islas. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

result of critical feedback gleaned from daily practice during the last three field seasons from 2007 to 2020, we have greatly increased the care with which we explore these archaeological contexts and have relied on a constantly evolving technology to exhaustively document them (Chávez et al. 2011; De Anda et al. 2017; López Luján 2017). This has helped us better understand the spatial relationships among the gifts to gods buried by the Mexica, identify the transformative taphonomic processes they have undergone over the centuries, and reconstruct their initial position more than half a millennium ago (Aguirre 2019; Chávez 2019).

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For example, this is how we discovered that sets of exceedingly heterogeneous objects, in terms of raw materials and form, initially constituted “composite artifacts” or assemblages. Such is the case with various sacrificial flint knives, miniature basalt incense burners, and anthropomorphic copal figurines that were adorned with headdresses, faces, nose and ear ornaments, necklaces, scepters, weapons, tobacco pouches, or tezcacuitlapilli (mirror devices worn on the back) to transform them into images of specific deities or divinized warriors (Aguirre 2019, 2020a; Chávez et al. 2010; López Luján and Aguirre 2010). Something similar can be said about the animal corpses that were buried together with a variety of often tiny ornaments and insignia used by humans to symbolically qualify them (Argüelles 2019; López Luján and Argüelles 2010; López Luján et al. 2012). The purpose of this chapter is to describe the suggestive connections between these faunal remains and the numerous cultural objects that accompanied them in the archaeological context. We will also explain the religious logic of the peculiar ritual practice of adorning birds and mammals before burying them in the offerings of Tenochtitlan’s sacred precinct (for animals dressed and sacrificed in the Andean area, see Valdez 2019).

THE CORPUS AND ITS SPATIAL DISTRIBUTION

Let us begin this analysis by stating that, as a result of our most recent investigations, we have detected a total of thirty-two animals that were adorned with ornaments and insignia and buried in 21 of the 204 ritual deposits excavated by the PTM and the Urban Archaeology Program (PAU) in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone. Significantly, these thirty-two individuals belong to only six of the more than five hundred taxa that biologists have identified in the ruins of the sacred precinct. In fact, our corpus of dressed fauna is limited to just thirteen golden eagles (Aquila chrysaetos), a peregrine falcon (Falco peregrinus), two hawks (Buteo sp.), seven Mexican gray wolves (Canis lupus baileyi), seven pumas (Puma concolor), and two jaguars (Panthera onca). Clearly, all of these fauna normally live in the wild and occupy the top of their respective food chains, for which ecologists have defined them as “superpredators”—that is, apex or alpha predators that have no natural predators of their own. As we shall see below, Mesoamerican peoples commonly associated birds of prey and large canines and felines with basic ideas such as destruction, ferocity, aggressivity, and military and political power, as well as bravery in war and the sacrifice of humans, which assured cosmic equilibrium. These twenty-one ritual deposits (Offerings 6, 24, 68, 81, 99, 103, 107, 115, 120, 125, 141, 174, 178, 179, H, K, P, U, and X, and Chambers 2 and 3) were situated 246

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in temporal contexts spanning a period of eighty years (see table 10.1; López Austin and López Luján 2009, 207–214; Matos 1981, 50), including one (4.8%) from Phase IVa (1440–1469  CE), attributed to the reign of Motecuhzoma Ilhuicamina; five (23.8%) belonging to Phase IVb (1469–1481), constructed by Axayacatl; one (4.8%) from Phase V (1481–1486), presided over by Tizoc; ten (47.6%) from Phase VI (1486–1502) during the reign of Ahuitzotl, and four (19.0%) belonging to Phase VII (1502–1520), overseen by Moctecuhzoma Xocoyotzin. This means that the practice was carried out at least during the maximum consolidation and expansion of the Mexica empire. As for the architectural distribution of the ritual deposits that contained dressed animals, we see clear patterns. Like Mexica offerings in general, their highest concentration (fifteen, 71.4%) was discovered at the Templo Mayor and its adjacent plaza to the west, while the rest of them (six, 28.6%) were found in four secondary structures situated north or east of this great pyramid in Buildings A (two, 9.5%), B (one, 4.8%), E (two, 9.5%), and I (one, 4.8%). In the specific case of the Templo Mayor the deposits were located exclusively in front of the west side of the pyramid, that is, at the foot of its main façade. Suggestively, the eagles (Offerings 6, 81, 99, 120, 125, and 141), hawks (Offering 179), and wolves (Offerings 115, 120, 125, and 174) were concentrated in the southern half of the façade, whose stairway led to Huitzilopochtli’s shrine (figures 10.2 and 10.3). In other words, they were found in the section of the building related to the sun, the winter solstice, and the dry season. Correlatively, one of the jaguars (Offering 103) and all of the pumas (Offerings 24 and 107 and Chambers 2 and 3) were distributed in the northern half of the façade, whose stairway led to Tlaloc’s shrine (figure 10.4). This means that they were found in the section of the building associated with the earth, the summer solstice, and the rainy season. The only exception to this constant is the jaguar from Offering 178, a deposit that was aligned with Huitzilopochtli’s shrine but that occupied the geometric center of Building O, which we have identified as the Huei Cuauhxicalco (López Luján and Barrera 2011; López Luján 2019). As for the four minor buildings, the animals were located either inside the structure (Offerings H, K, P, U, and X) or in front of its western façade (Offering 68). Offering H is especially suggestive, as its ashlar box contained the complete juvenile skeletons of a wolf and a puma. Echoing the pattern observed at the Templo Mayor, the wolf occupied the southern half of the box, while the puma occupied the northern half (figure 10.5). Remember that in ancient Nahua thought, the eagle and, by extension, other birds of prey were associated with the upper realm of the cosmos, men, the sky, dryness, heat, light, and Huitzilopochtli (Garza 2001; Gilonne 1997; D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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T ABLE 10.1a. Dressed birds from Tenochtitlan’s sacred precinct: context, osteobiography, ornaments, and insignia Animals

Eagles

Individual

A1

A2

A3

A4

A5

A6

A7

A8

A9

A10

Offering

6

81

99

99

120

125

125

141

P

P

Building

H

H

H

H

H

H/T

H/T

H/T A

A

Phase

IVb

VII

VII

VII

VI

VI

VI

VI

V

V

Orientation

W

W

W

W

und

W

W

E

E

E

Position

und

vd

und

und

und

rld

rld

vd

vd

vd

Age

a

a

a

a

a

a

a

a

Sex

m

f

m

m

f

m

Taxidermy

c

tx

c

tx

tx

tx

Cu

Cu

Cu

Cu

Cu

Cu

1

1

a

a

m

f

tx

c

c

Cu

Au (S) Cu (N) Cu

tx

Accessories Metal bell anklet Anahuatl disk

w

s

Oliva belt Earspool CTR ornament Beaded necklace Bracelet w/bow Maxtlatl loincloth Atlatl w/darts Tzotzopaztli batten Tlachieloni scepter Chimalli shield Double volute headdress Hummingbird-beak headdress Eyes Knife in jaws Bead in jaws Totals

1

1

1

1

2

1

2

1

Courtesy of Proyecto Templo Mayor. Abbreviations: a: adult; Au: gold; c: complete; Cu: copper; E: east; f: female; g/s: greenstone pieces with one shell; g/s/t: greenstone/shell/turquoise; H: Huitzilopochtli; m: male; N: north; rld: right lateral decubitus; s: mother-of-pearl shell; S: south; t: taxidermic; T: Tlaloc; und: undetermined; vd: ventral decubitus; W: west; w: wood

Falcon

Hawks

Totals

A11 A12 A13

H1

G1

G2

16 individuals

P

U

X

X

179

179

10 out of 204 offerings

A

E

E

E

H

H

4 buildings (A, E, Templo Mayor: Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc sides)

V

IVb

IVb

IVb

VI

VI

IVb–VII (1469–1520 CE)

E

W

und

und

W

W

16 (9 west, 4 east, 3 undetermined)

vd

und

und

und

vd

vd

16 (7 ventral decubitus, 2 right lateral decubitus, 7 undetermined)

a

a

a

a

a

a

16 (adults)

f

9 (4 females, 5 males)

tx

tx

tx

tx

c

c

16 (6 complete, 10 taxidermic)

Cu

Cu

Cu

Cu

Au

Au

16 (13 copper, 3 gold) (south, north)

w

w

Au

Au

6 (1 mother-of-pearl shell, 2 gold, 3 wood) 0 0 0

w

g/s/t

g/s/t 2 (greenstone/shell/turquoise)

Au

Au

2 (gold)

Au

Au

2 (gold)

w

2 (wood) 0 Au Au

g/s

1 (gold) 1 (gold)

Au

1 (gold)

Au

1 (gold)

g/s

2 (2 greenstone pieces w/1 shell) 0 0

1

1

3

3

7

9

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T ABLE 10.1b. Dressed mammals from Tenochtitlan’s sacred precinct: context, osteobiography, ornaments, and insignia Animals

Wolves

Pumas

Individual

L1

L2

L3

L4

L5

L6

L7

P1

P2

P3

P4

Offering

68

115

120

125

174

H

H

C2

C3

24

107

Building

I

H

H

H/T

H

B

B

T

T

T

T

Phase

VII

VI

VI

VI

VI

VI

VI

IVb

IVa

IVb

VI

Orientation

W

W

W

W

W

W

W

W

W

W

W

Position

rld

vd

rld

rld

rld

vd

vd

vd

rld

rld

vd

Age

und

j

a

a

j

j

j

j

a

und

und

Sex

und

m

f

f

und

und

und

und

Taxidermy

c

c

c

c

c

c

c

c

c

c

c

Metal bell anklet

Cu

Cu

Au

Cu

Cu

Cu

Anahuatl disk

s

s

1

1

Accessories

Oliva belt

s

s

s

Earspool

w

w/t

CTR ornament

w/s

Beaded necklace

g

2 Au s

s

s

s

s

w Au

g

g

Bracelet w/bow Maxtlatl loincloth Atlatl w/darts w

Tzotzopaztli batten Tlachieloni scepter Chimalli shield Double volute headdress Hummingbirdbeak headdress Eyes Knife in jaws

fl

fl

Bead in jaws Totals

g 1

2

6

4

7

2

2

1

2

Courtesy of Proyecto Templo Mayor. Abbreviations: a: adult; Au: gold; c: complete; Cu: copper; E: east; f: female; fl: flint; g: greenstone; H: Huitzilopochtli (southern half of the Templo Mayor); j: juvenile; m: male; r: reed; rld: right lateral decubitus; s: shell; sa: subadult; T: Tlaloc (northern half of the Templo Mayor); und: undetermined; vd: ventral decubitus; W: west; w: wood; w/t: wood with turquoise tesserae; w/s: wood with shell

Jaguars

Totals

P7

J1

J2

16 individuals

P5

P6

107

H

K

103

178

14 out of 204 offerings

T

B

A

T

H

4 buildings (A, B, I, Templo Mayor: Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc sides)

VI

VI

VI

VII

VI

IVa–VII (1440–1520 CE)

W

W

E

W

W

16 (15 west, 1 east)

vd

vd

rld

rld

vd

16 (8 ventral decubitus, 8 right lateral decubitus)

und

j

und

j

sa

16 (3 adults, 1 subadult, 7 juveniles, 5 undetermined)

und

f

4 identified (3 females, 1 male), 7 undetermined

c

c

16 (complete)

und c

c

Cu

c Cu

8 (7 copper, 1 gold) w

s

s

s

7 (4 mother-of-pearl shell, 2 gold, 1 wood) 9 (Oliva shell) 3 (2 wood, 1 wood with turquoise tesserae) 2 (1 gold, 1 wood with shell)

g

4 (greenstone) 0 0

w

1 (wood) 1 (wood) 0

r

1 (reed) 0 0 0 2 (flint) 1 (greenstone)

1

1

2

1

4

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Figure 10.2. Location of the dressed birds of prey in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone. Drawing by Michelle De Anda. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

Figure 10.3. Location of the dressed wolves in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone. Drawing by Michelle De Anda. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

Figure 10.4. Location of the dressed felines in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone. Drawing by Michelle De Anda. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

Figure 10.5. The wolf and puma juveniles from Offering H (west is up). Drawing by Leonardo López Luján. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

Kendall 1992, 120–122; Latsanopoulos 2011; Seler 2004, 162–174). On numerous occasions the eagle gives form to the sun itself, as expressed in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:1): “The sun: the soaring eagle, the turquoise prince, the god” (Tonatiuh, quauhtleonitl, xippilli, teutl). This explains why the rising sun in Nahuatl was called “Cuauhtlehuanitl” or “eagle that ascends,” and

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the setting sun was known as “Cuauhtemoc” or “eagle that descends” (Sahagún 1989, 343, 907). Complementarily, the jaguar and, by extension, other felines were associated with the lower realm of the cosmos, women, the earth, wetness, cold, and darkness (Latsanopoulos 2011; Olivier 2004, 157–192; Saunders 1989; Seler 2004, 33–49; Winning 1987, 1:97–109). Tezcatlipoca, in his jaguar avatar, was conflated with Tepeyollotl (Heart of the Mountain), a divine manifestation of terrestrial and lunar forces, while among the Maya the jaguar usually appeared in the nocturnal sun (Valverde 2004). The symbolism of the wolf, however, is less clear. We know that the dog represented the fire that falls from the sky—that is, the lightning that cracks the earth’s surface to open the way to the underworld—and was a celestial being associated with the sun and Venus that led these astral bodies on their journey into the bowels of the earth (Garza 1997; Seler 2004, 40–63). Based on this, and considering that the wolf is a very active predator at dusk and dawn, Nicolas Latsanopoulos (2008, 82–97) has proposed that it played the role of intermediary between the sun of the day and the sun of the night. Thus it is suggestive that the Legend of the Suns (1945, 125) mentions that the eagle, jaguar, and wolf were sacrificed to consecrate Mixcoatl’s Temple. But let us return to our archaeological contexts. Inside the offering receptacles we also noticed regularities in the spatial distribution of the dressed animals (figures 10.6 and 10.7). For example, there was a clear pattern in their anatomical orientation. The corpses of twenty-nine (90.6%) of the thirty-two individuals were placed in an east-west direction, including twenty-four (75%) with their head facing west and only five (15.6%) with their head facing east. It is worth noting that four of those five individuals were found in Offerings K and P of Building A, a small shrine endowed—unlike the others—with a stairway to the west and another to the east. The fifth individual with its head facing east is located in Offering 141, an ashlar box situated to the west of the Tlaltecuhtli monolith, which means that the animal’s gaze was directed toward this gigantic image of the earth goddess. Unfortunately, it was impossible to determine the orientation of the three remaining individuals (9.4%), as their contexts in Offerings 120 and X were severely altered by the seasonal oscillation of the water table. In any case, the data in this paragraph indicate that more than a half millennium ago there was a distinctly evident custom of burying dressed animals oriented to the sun’s course with their heads nearly always pointing west. In terms of the corporal disposition of the animals, we see equally clear patterns. A total of fifteen individuals (46.9%) were carefully buried by the priests in the ventral decubitus position, that is, facedown on their chest and 256

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Figure 10.6. Male and female eagles in situ in Offering 125 (west is up). Photograph by Leonardo López Luján. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

abdomen in a natural pose. Ten other individuals (31.3%) were buried in the right lateral decubitus position, that is, on their right side with their left facing upward. It was impossible to ascertain the disposition of the seven remaining individuals (21.9%), as their skeletal elements had shifted from their original D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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Figure 10.7. Female wolf in situ in Offering 125 (west is up). Photograph by Leonardo López Luján. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

location because of organic decomposition processes, subsoil water fluctuations, and telluric movements during their long period underground. In any case, the intention of placing the animals in standardized corporal positions is clear, including some with their spine oriented toward the zenithal position 258

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of the sun and others with their left side aligned with the apparent path of the sun, something very important in this northern latitude where it has a pronounced southern declination. Before proceeding to the next section, we must warn the reader that the jaguar in Offering 178 and the two hawks in Offering 179 will not be analyzed in this chapter. Since we are still in the long process of excavating both ritual deposits, we have not had the opportunity to extract all of the materials from their receptacles and undertake a detailed examination of the skeletons and their associated artifacts in the field laboratory.

THE OSTEOLOGICAL AND GENETIC DATA CONCERNING THE ANIMALS

The thirty-two animals in our corpus have a wide range of ages, although we should note that there are no infant individuals. As table 10.1 shows, the specimens include seven juveniles (21.9%), one subadult (3.1%), nineteen adults (59.4%), and five of undetermined age (15.6%). The sixteen birds of prey are all adults, according to their well ossified skeletons and lack of cranial and mandibular sutures (Ontiveros 2015, 22–24, 91–98). Remember, however, that the skeletal development of this group is extremely rapid and that individuals usually enter their adult stage within eight to sixteen weeks after birth (figure 10.6). As for the seven wolves, we managed to ascertain that four were juveniles and two were adults (Álvarez and Ocaña 1991, 123; López Luján and Polaco 1991, 125–26). We were able to estimate that the two specimens in Offering H and the one from Offering 115 were between five and seven months old at the time of death. The wolf in Offering 174 was slightly older—between eight and ten months—for although its long bones had not ossified, its short bones and pelvis had, and its permanent teeth had already come in. The specimen from Offering 125, in contrast, died at an extremely advanced age (López Luján et al. 2012, 30), exhibited by the obliteration of the cranial sutures, the fusion of the epiphysis of the long bones, and the fusion of the pelvis with the sacrum, as well as the presence of the hemal arch in the caudal vertebrae and abundant osteophytes from degenerative osteoarthritis (figure 10.7). The fact that longevity and osteoarthritis were combined with skeletal indicators of good nutrition suggests that this individual benefited from human care, at least in its old age (Elizalde 2017, 207–214). The nine felines, in turn, include three juveniles, one subadult, one adult, and four of undetermined age. Offering H and Chamber 2 contained two juvenile pumas whose long bones still were not ossified, although the second had D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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reached adult size (Álvarez and Ocaña 1991, 123; López Luján and Polaco 1991, 125–126). The jaguar from Offering 103 is a juvenile that has cranial sutures and unossified long bones (Valentín and Zúñiga-Arellano 2003, 64), while the one in Offering 178, with ossified bones, still preserves the metaphysis line on the long bones and hip, revealing that it is a subadult. The sex of the dressed fauna was determined by morphometric parameters in fifteen of the thirty-two individuals (table 10.1). Note, however, that these identifications should be taken with reservations, especially for the birds of prey, given the fractures, missing pieces, and deterioration of the skeletal materials, particularly those belonging to the cranial vault. Among the thirteen eagles (López Luján et al. 2012, 27–28; Ontiveros 2015, 22–35, 91–98), there is reasonable certainty that four are female and five are male; among the seven wolves (Chávez et al. 2022b), two are female (Offerings 120 and 125), one is male (Offering 115), and four remain undetermined because they are still juveniles (Offerings 174 and H). The sex of the wolves in Offerings 115 and 125 was further confirmed by DNA analysis performed by geneticist Steven R. Fain (2012) in the forensic laboratory of the US Fish and Wildlife Service (Chávez et al. 2022b). Finally, we must say that the felines of Chamber 2 and Offerings 103 and H are also undetermined because of their juvenile condition, and the jaguar from Offering 178, which was recently discovered and is still in the process of excavation, appears to be female, according to biologist Montserrat Morales Mejía. Another aspect we tried to determine during our analysis was the cause of death of the dressed animals. In general, we have very little evidence of this nature for the faunal remains recovered in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, especially considering the exceptional abundance of offerings. Two notable cases are the jaguar from Offering 9 and one of the three jaguars from Offering 126, neither of which was adorned with ornaments or insignia (Chávez 2019, 500–501; Chávez et al. 2022a). The presence of repeated parallel cuts on the inner surface of the left ribs of both individuals indicates that they died by heart extraction, a technique that we have also documented in human beings (López Luján et al. 2010, 377–381). In addition to these cases, two wolves in Offering 126, which also were not dressed, had perimortem lesions on the dorsal portions of their iliac crests made by small projectile points that may well have caused their death (Chávez et al. 2019). Among the thirty-two dressed individuals in our corpus, only a wolf from Offering H has possible indications of sacrifice. It exhibits perimortem blunt trauma, specifically a cranial fracture, perhaps made with stone, that never healed (Chávez et al. 2022b). Although the rest of the specimens lacked lethal 260

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marks on their bones, we cannot rule out the possibility that they were also sacrificed shortly before or during their offering and burial ceremony. In this sense we imagine that many of these animals were the victims of killing techniques such as throat slitting, asphyxiation, or poisoning, which rarely leave evidence. Whatever the case may be, the existence of coprolites next to the puma skeleton in Chamber 3 and the jaguar in Offering 9 leads us to suspect that many of these animals took their last breath in the place of their definitive interment. Our osteological analysis also determined that some of the birds of prey were not buried whole. Ten (62.5%) of the sixteen specimens, in fact, were subjected to posthumous preparations characterized and defined in recent years as “taxidermic” (Chávez and Elizalde 2017, 109–110; Chávez et al. 2022a; Valentín and Gallardo 2006, 37–39; López Luján 2006, 1:222–223, 229; 2015; Olivier and López Luján 2017, 168–180; Ontiveros 2015, 98–103; Valentín 2018; Quezada et al. 2010). These ten specimens include nine (69.2%) of the thirteen eagles (Offerings 81, 99, 120, 141, P, U, and X) and the sole falcon (Offering X) in the corpus. The diversity of equipment and techniques suggests that a variety of specialists processed these bird corpses, although always with the end of preserving their general anatomical physiognomy as well as the qualities of their skin and feathers. The latter is evident in several specimens that still have the proximal ends of the quill along with the pygostyle, that is, the fused caudal vertebrae supporting the muscles and feathers of the tail. The eagle in Offering 120 only had skeletal traces of excarnation on its wings, while the other nine birds, in addition to their viscera, had their central bones (vertebral column, ribs, coracoids, furcula, keel, and pelvis) removed, but they retained all or part of their head, wings, legs, and tail. In order to completely drain the encephalic mass, the occipital region of the skull was cut in eight individuals (Offerings 81, 99 [b], 141, P [a–c], and X [a–b]), and the foramen magnum was enlarged in one of the eagles [b] from Offering P. The most complete skeletons in the archaeological contexts include the eagle and falcon of Offering X, which preserve the bones of the wings below the elbow (ulna/radius to digits) and the legs below the ankle (tarsometatarsus to claws), the eagle from Offering U, which retains the bones below the wrists (carpometacarpus to digits) and knees (fibula/tibiotarsus to claws), and the eagle [b] in Offering 99, which still has the bones below the wrists (carpometacarpus to digits) and ankles (tarsometatarsus to claws). In contrast, the four eagles from Offerings 141 and P [a–c] underwent a taxidermic preparation called “trophy rug,” which preserves the bones of the wings below the wrist (carpometacarpus to digits), but the legs only have claws. Except for one of the eagles [b] in Offering P, the other three had their carpometacarpi D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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pierced, possibly to secure the wings with a cord. The extreme case is the eagle from Offering 81, which was subjected to a “mannequin” taxidermal preparation, whereby the bones of the wings below the wrist are retained but the lower extremities are completely removed.

ORNAMENTS AND INSIGNIA: MATERIAL, FORM, AND CONTEXT

Let us now turn to the multiplicity of artifacts associated with the thirtytwo animals in the corpus. One of the main characteristics of these ornaments is the diversity of their constituent raw materials, including reed, wood, gold, copper or bronze, metamorphic greenstone, turquoise, flint, and both gastropod and bivalve shell. In spatially well-defined complexes these artifacts constitute a wide range of human ornaments and insignia, such as anklets, belts, chest and back pendants, necklaces, ear and nose pieces, bracelets, loincloths, offensive and defensive arms, scepters, and other accessories (table 10.1). The anklets by far are the most common ornament in our collection. They consist of strung spherical and pear-shaped, lost-wax-cast bells (López Luján 2006, 1:191–192; López Luján and Ruvalcaba 2015, 33–38, 45; Schultze 2008). They invariably were found around the lower extremities of thirteen eagles, one falcon, and two hawks and around the hind legs of four wolves and four pumas. Among these twenty-four individuals, twenty had copper or bronze bells, while only four had bells made of gold. Next, in order of abundance, are the annular discs called anahuatl in Nahuatl, made either of gold sheet, wood from a Pinus-genus conifer, or mother-ofpearl oyster (Pinctada mazatlanica) shell (Aguirre 2019, 315, 320, 324; Argüelles 2019, 367–369; Barajas et al. 2016, 18–19; López Luján 2006, 1:200, 203; Robles et al. 2019, 218–219, 227–229; Velázquez 1999, 53–54, 70–71; 2007, 57–116; Velázquez and Zúñiga-Arellano 2019, 294–296). These annular insignia were found directly on the chest or back of three eagles, a falcon, two hawks, five wolves, and a jaguar (figure 10.8). We also have several belts made of gastropod shell from the Oliva genus, culturally modified in various ways to serve as pendants on a cord (López Luján et al. 2012, 27, 31; Velázquez 1999, 33–53; 2007, 117–165; Velázquez and Zúñiga-Arellano 2019, 290–292). They were spatially associated with the waist and hips of five wolves, three pumas, and a jaguar (figure 10.9). Our list of corporal accessories is complemented with three pairs of wooden earspools, one of them made of wood from the ahuehuete cypress tree (Taxodium sp.) and covered with fine turquoise, planerite, heulandite, chalcopyrite, and triplite tesserae that were glued on with white (chino) copal 262

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Figure 10.8. Skeleton of the female eagle from Offering 125, assembled in the laboratory, with shell anahuatl disk and copper bell anklets. Photograph by Mirsa Islas. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

(Bursera bipinnata) resin; three circle-trapezoid-ray (CTR) ear or nose ornaments made of gold or shell-covered wood; six greenstone-bead necklaces, two of them with shell beads and a turquoise bird-shaped charm (one of an eagle and the other of a lovely cotinga); two bracelets with a gold sheet bow, and two pairs of trapezoidal gold sheets, each possibly representing a maxtlatl loincloth (Argüelles 2019, 367–369; López Luján et al. 2012, 31; López Luján and Meehan 2018; Velázquez and Zúñiga-Arellano 2019, 296). These artifacts were associated with the corpses of two hawks, three wolves, and a jaguar.

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Figure 10.9. Skeleton of a wolf from Offering 174, assembled in the laboratory, with copper bell anklets, gold anahuatl disk, nose and ear ornaments, Oliva-shell pendants, greenstone necklace, and wooden tzotzopaztli. Photograph by Mirsa Islas. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

A separate group includes artifacts that represent handheld objects that served either as weapons or scepters. For example, the jaguar in Offering 178 had a wooden launcher (atlatl) and several wooden darts (tlacochtli), as well as a reed round shield (chimalli), all actual size, associated with its front claws. This is important because only miniature representations made of wood, shell, 264

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or travertine have previously been found (e.g., Aguirre 2019, 315–316, 320–322, 329; Argüelles 2019, 369, 371; Gamio 1920–1921; González 1982, 215; López Luján 1993, 330, 340, 412, 416, 432; 2006, 1:201–202; Nagao 1985, 74–76; Noguera 1945, 218; Olmo 1999, 178–180; Pedraza et al. 2017, 49; Velázquez 1999, 103–105; 2000, 128–131; Velázquez and Zúñiga-Arellano 2019, 298, 301). In contrast, the wolf in Offering 174 was next to a life-size weaver’s batten (tzotzopaztli) made of wood. Again, we note that only miniature representations of the weaving implement made of flint have previously been found (Pedraza et al. 2017, 49). One of the two hawks in Offering 179, in turn, had a scepter called tlachieloni (“object used for looking”) in its right wing, while the other hawk had a round shield (chimalli) with a banner (pantli) in its left wing. Both of these artifacts were made of extremely thin gold sheet. Finally, let us turn to the artifacts found within the skeletons of some of the animals. For example, the two hawks in Offering 179 have tiny representations of eyes made of two round pieces of greenstone, glued on a shell disc like a button to serve as a base and element to attach to the animal’s head. In addition, in the place of its missing skull, one of the hawks had a hummingbird’s beak and a forehead ornament in the shape of a double volute, both made of gold sheet. We must also mention the sacrificial flint knives found inside the mouth of one of the wolves in Offering H and the puma in Chamber 3 (Aguirre 2020a, 155, 159–161; López Luján and Polaco 1991, 151, 155, 165), as well as the large spherical greenstone bead stuck in the jaws of the puma in Chamber 2 (Aguirre 2020a, 120; Ahuja 1982, 195; cf. Gallardo 2014).

ORNAMENTS AND INSIGNIA: FUNCTIONS AND MEANINGS

Numerous clues for investigation emerge from analyzing the use and symbolism of all of these artifacts. The bells, for example, are omnipresent in Mesoamerican iconography, where human and divine beings wear them as an essential part of anklets, bracelets, necklaces, and pectorals. As symbols of prestige and power, metal bells were used exclusively by rulers, nobles, and high-ranking military leaders (Hosler 2005, 366). They were particularly valued for their musicality and were said to evoke the sound of thunder, rain, the serpent’s rattle, and the jaguar’s roar, linking them to the semantic complex of fertility and regeneration (Hosler 2005, 351–361). Bells when ringing also were supposed to ward off malevolent influences and to protect warriors who wore them in battle (Hosler 2005, 361–363). Bells were equally valued for their color, which varied according to the composition of their alloys (gold, silver, copper, tin, arsenic, lead) and also to D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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natural processes of corrosion (Schultze 2008, 346, 356, 379; 2010, 76, 79–80). While gold bells remained unchanged, those composed mostly of copper quickly changed hue when exposed to air and humidity, turning from shiny orange or salmon red to flat pale or bluish green. Thus the Mexica and their contemporaries established a dual visual dichotomy between gold and copper pieces—on the one hand, the well-known yellow/bluish-green pair of complementary opposites and, on the other, the shiny/opaque pair (López Luján et al. 2005, 29–30). We could even add another—the smooth/rough pair—although it is tactile rather than visual. In this respect, it is worth noting the two dressed eagles in Offering 125 (López Luján and Chávez 2010; López Luján et al. 2012, 27–28). The smaller skeleton found in the southern half of the deposit was a male and had gold anklets (figure 10.4). The more robust skeleton with a longer wingspan occupying the northern half was a female and had copper anklets (figure 10.6). Based on what we have said, one could speculate that the gold bells—yellow, shiny, and smooth, associated with the male eagle and its southern position—would allude to the diaphanous, warm, fragrant, masculine celestial world in Mesoamerican cosmovision, as well as Huitzilopochtli, the sun, and the dry season. In a complementary manner, the copper bells—bluish-green, opaque, and rough, associated with the female eagle and its northern position—would symbolically evoke the dark, cold, pestilent, feminine underworld, as well as Tlaloc, the earth, and the rainy season (López Austin 1998, 347; López Luján and Ruvalcaba 2015, 25–26; Schultze 2008, 379; 2010, 80; for more on the gold/ copper dichotomy, see Falchetti 2008, 65–66). Moreover, pure gold, a noble metal that does not oxidize, has no odor, while sulfidic copper (from chalcopyrite), when smelted, generates sulfur dioxide gas that smells like putrefaction (Marcos Martinón Torres, personal communication, June 2019), which occurs in the underworld (Favila et al. 2022; López Luján and Mercado 1996, 57–63). The symbolic associations of the annular disc insignia are even clearer. Called anahuatl by the Mexica and other Nahua peoples, they were worn on the chest or back by astral war gods such as Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, and Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (López Luján 1993, 330; 2006, 1:200, 203; Nagao 1985, 74–76; Velázquez 2000, 166–180). We also see them, albeit to a lesser degree, in images of Mixcoatl, Xiuhtecuhtli, Xipe Totec, Itztlacoliuhqui, and Mictlantecuhtli. Moreover, in the pictorial manuscripts from the Basin of Mexico, they are also worn by divine animals such as the jaguar, the laughing falcon, the turkey, and the skunk, which are avatars of Tezcatlipoca (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 3, 13, 17; Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 23r); the hummingbird, associated with Huitzilopochtli (Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 266

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5r); and the spider monkey, linked to Xochipilli (Codex Magliabechiano 1996, 5r; Codex Tudela 1980, 37r). According to Velázquez, this annular disc is an attribute alluding to celestial warriors who, after succumbing on the battlefield or the sacrificial stone, assisted the sun on its cyclical journey. As for the Oliva-shell pendants, Adrián Velázquez (2000, 180–192; Velázquez and Both 2014) has meticulously studied their meaning and sound. Iconographically these artifacts are associated with the Tzitzimime group of deities, including Tlaltecuhtli, Coatlicue, Cihuacoatl, Ilamatecuhtli, Itzpapalotl, Chantico, Tlazolteotl-Ixcuina, Tzitzimitl, and Mictlantecuhtli. They nearly always appear as a finishing touch on the back of a device called citlalicue or “skirt of stars,” which, when in motion, produced a sound similar to running water and a serpent’s rattle. According to Velázquez, the Oliva-shell pendants symbolized deceased warriors who, after their metamorphosis into stars or celestial fires, descended in the west to fertilize the earth. As for the circle-trapezoid-ray (CTR) ear and nose ornaments generically called yacaxihuitl in Nahuatl, they usually appear in the sculptural images of war captives about to be sacrificed or the souls of warriors who died in combat (López Luján and González, 2014, 33–34). They are also worn by Coyolxauhqui, the belligerent lunar goddess (López Luján 2010, 51–54; sculptures of her at the Museo Nacional de Antropología, López Luján 2011a, and Harvard’s Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, López Luján 2010); Chantico, the war deity of the hearth or home fire (Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 21v); and the Cihuateteo, the heroic women who perished during their struggle to give birth (Codex Borgia 1993, 46; Taube 2012, 132). Some of the ornaments worn by the hawks in Offering 179 deserve special attention. The individual in the southern half had a delicate beaded necklace consisting of tiny pieces of greenstone and a pink shell, presumably from the Chama echinata species, with a turquoise pendant (Ricardo Sánchez Hernández, personal communication, March 2020) in the shape of a stylized descending lovely cotinga (Cotinga amabilis) as its central element. Although normally found on the front of a diadem or headband, this element is associated with Xiuhtecuhtli and Huitzilopochtli (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 9, 20, 23, 37; Codex Borgia 1993, 13; Codex Fejérváry-Mayer 1994, 1; Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 5r; López Luján 1993, 185–186; Ocelocuauhxicalli sculpture, López Luján 2011b; Sahagún 1993, 261r). The other individual, occupying the northern half of the ashlar box, wore a similar necklace, although its central turquoise pendant is in the shape of an eagle, a bird associated with the sun and specifically Huitzilopochtli, as we will see below. As previously mentioned, this hawk also wore other gold D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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sheet elements characteristic of this deity, including a forehead ornament in the shape of a double volute (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 31, 34; Ocelocuauhxicalli sculpture, López Luján 2011b; López Luján and Ruvalcaba 2015, 29, 36) and a headdress element that represents the beak of a hummingbird (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 31, 34; Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 5r; Ocelocuauhxicalli and Teocalli de la Guerra Sagrada sculptures, López Luján 2011b, 2011c; López Luján and Fauvet-Berthelot 2005, 72–75). Other insignia associated with the animals in our corpus are the offensive and defensive arms. Prominent among them are the atlatl launchers, darts, and shields that not only were characteristic of Mexica flesh-and-bone warriors, but also accentuated the bellicose nature of many of their divinities. Strange as it may seem, we must include the weaver’s batten, called tzotzopaztli in Nahuatl, as it represents the feminine weapon par excellence in Central Mexican iconography (McCafferty and McCafferty 2019). In fact, examples abound in pictographic scenes (Codex Magliabechiano 1996, 45r; Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 6r, 22v; Sahagún 1993, 253r, 264r) and in sculptures such as the Pasaje Catedral Neo-Toltec effigy and the Tizoc Stone (López Luján and López Austin 2007, 56–59), where female warriors and goddesses such as the fearsome Cihuacoatl menacingly brandish the tzotzopaztli. Another important insignia is the tlachieloni. Our collection contains a single representation of this scepter pressed (repoussé) in gold sheet. In Central Mexican iconography it is held by war deities such as Tezcatlipoca, Xiuhtecuhtli, Tlacochcalco Yaotl, and Omacatl (Olivier 2007, 289–290; Vesque 2017), as corroborated in numerous pictographic scenes (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 36; Codex Ixtlilxochitl 1996, 96r; Codex Magliabechiano 1996, 33r, 87r, 92r; Codex Tudela 1980, 15r, 22r, 56r, 73r; Sahagún 1979, 1:3r; 1993, 261r, 262v, 266r, 266v, 250v, 259r, 264r; Tovar Manuscript 1972, 148r). A revealing passage concerning Panquetzaliztli celebrations in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:146) says that a group of warriors holding this kind of scepter ascended to the top of Huitzilopochtli’s Temple and were hurled like spears at the tzoalli-seed image of this Mexica patron deity. Let us conclude this brisk account with the sacrificial knives or large bead found inside the jaws of a wolf and two of the pumas. In the Mexica plastic arts several beings have knives in their mouths representing fangs or a tongue, including Tlaltecuhtli, Tzitzimitl, Mictlantecuhtli, and Xolotl, and numerous feathered serpent sculptures. According to Cecelia F. Klein (1976, 204), this may signify that they are fearsome beings that bite and thus are associated with the ideas of sacrifice and death. The greenstone bead or sphere, which in many contexts symbolizes the human heart, brings to mind a scene in 268

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the Codex Vaticanus A (1996, 2r) that depicts a heart being eaten by a wild beast. This image corresponding to the penultimate level of the underworld is accompanied with the gloss “Teocoyolcualoya,” which means “Where Beasts Devour Hearts or Divine Spheres.”

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FINAL REFLECTIONS

We have said that our corpus of thirty-two dressed animals exclusively consists of golden eagles, peregrine falcons, hawks, Mexican gray wolves, pumas, and jaguars. It is well known that because of their behavioral habits, these kinds of ferocious, carnivorous, and hunting or fishing superpredators were assimilated into the semantic complex of political power, and especially war and human sacrifice, in Mesoamerican art and thought (Alvarado Tezozómoc 1980, 321, 415–416; Kendall 1992, 120–122; Latsanopoulos 2011, 377–383; López Luján 2006, 1:87–89; López Luján and Fauvet-Berthelot 2005, 146–149; Olivier 2004, 157–192; Olko 2014, 99–100, 146–149, 387; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:52, 123, 6:171, 8:84–85; Seler 2004, 33–39, 63–73, 162–74). Generally, in the plastic arts of Teotihuacan and Tula, birds of prey, canines, and felines incarnated the principal military orders; we see them everywhere devouring hearts, mightily armed with shields, atlatl launchers, or projectiles or wielding sacrificial knives (e.g., Jiménez 1998; Latsanopoulos 2008; Sugiyama 2017). In the case of Teotihuacan, the ritual deposits from the consecration of the Pyramid of the Moon also stand out, where archaeologists recovered numerous skeletons of golden eagles, Mexican gray wolves, and pumas, many of which had been placed in cages or had their extremities tied (López Luján and Sugiyama 2017; Sugiyama 2017). By the late Postclassic, images abound of military uniforms made with their pelts and feathers, along with scenes of individuals bravely brandishing weapons or resignedly holding the insignia of sacrificial victims (Codex Borbonicus 1991, 11; Codex Mendoza 1992, 21v; Codex Telleriano-Remensis 1995, 16r; Sahagún 1993, 73r, 74v, 75r, 79r–v). In order to reiterate such symbolic connections, Mexica priests evidently adorned these thirty-two fierce animals with ornaments and insignia that alluded to male warriors killed on the battlefield or the sacrificial stone and surely to the female warriors who died in labor, that is, like those brave men and women who according to Nahua mythology had the task of escorting the sun along the celestial vault and into the bowels of the earth (Caso 1983, 23–24; Soustelle 1982, 56, 87, 110–111). We believe that this complex conception of the mechanics of the universe was ritually materialized each time the priests buried eagles, wolves, and D R ES S ED T O K I LL

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Figure 10.10. Location of hummingbirds and roseate spoonbills in the Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone. Drawing by Michelle De Anda. Courtesy Proyecto Templo Mayor.

felines dressed as warriors in front of the Templo Mayor’s western façade with their head invariably oriented toward the sunset. Such a proposition finds support in the archaeological data concerning hummingbirds and roseate spoonbills—birds that the Mexica identified with the sun and the souls of warriors who died in combat (Gilonne 1994, 32–41; Olivier and López Luján 2017, 182–187; Sahagún 1950–1982, 3:49). We must clarify that they are not included in our corpus since no dressed specimens of them have been found. But it is highly significant that they have appeared exclusively in ritual deposits buried in front of that great pyramid’s western façade (figure 10.10). In terms of the hummingbirds, sixteen individuals (eleven Eugenes fulgens, two Lampornis cf. amethystinus, two Hylocharis cf. leucotis, and possibly an Amazilia violiceps) were discovered inside Offering 100, a small ashlar box from Phase VI just below Offering 99 (Valentín and Gallardo 2006). All of them were taxidermically processed and buried in the ventral decubitus position, with their wings spread and their heads facing west. As for the roseate spoonbills, we have identified ten individuals (Offerings 99, 101, 104, 120, 128, 141, 166, and 178) so far and are sure that three of them are complete and six underwent taxidermic procedures (Olivier and López Luján 2017, 170–179). Interestingly, after being placed in ventral or lateral decubitus positions, eight of them clearly had their skulls oriented toward the sunset. Acknowledgments. We would like to thank our colleagues Ximena Chávez Balderas, Michelle De  Anda, Mirsa Islas Orozco, Antonio Marín Calvo, Belem Zúñiga-Arellano, and all of the members of the Templo Mayor Project. We also want to thank Elizabeth Baquedano, Elizabeth H. Boone, Nicolas Latsanopoulos, Marcos Martinón Torres, Susan Milbrath, Barbara E. Mundy, Montserrat Morales Mejía, Guilhem Olivier, Ricardo Sánchez Hernández, and Adrián Velázquez Castro for their support. This chapter was translated into English by Scott Sessions.

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López Luján, Leonardo. 2006. La Casa de las Águilas: Un ejemplo de la arquitectura religiosa mexica. 2 vols. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Harvard University. López Luján, Leonardo. 2010. “Las otras imágenes de Coyolxauhqui.” Arqueología Mexicana 17 (102): 48–54, 59. López Luján, Leonardo. 2011a. “Head of Coyolxauhqui.” In 100 Selected Works: National Museum of Anthropology, edited by Mónica del Villar K., 172–173. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. López Luján, Leonardo. 2011b. “Ocelocuauhxicalli.” In 100 Selected Works: National Museum of Anthropology, edited by Mónica del Villar K., 184–185. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. López Luján, Leonardo. 2011c. “Teocalli from the Holy War.” In 100 Selected Works: National Museum of Anthropology, edited by Mónica del Villar K., 178–179. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. López Luján, Leonardo. 2015. “Under the Sign of the Sun: Eagle Feathers, Skins, and Insignia in the Mexica World.” In Images Take Flight: Feather Art in Mexico and Europe, 1400–1700, edited by Alessandra Russo, Gerhard Wolf, and Diana Fane, 132–143. Munich: Hirmer, Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz, Max-Planck-Institut. López Luján, Leonardo. 2017. “El Proyecto Templo Mayor (1991–2017): Recuento de cinco lustros de actividades.” In Templo Mayor: Revolución y estabilidad, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma and Patricia Ledesma Bouchan, 35–57. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. López Luján, Leonardo. 2019. “Al pie del Templo Mayor: Excavaciones arqueológicas en torno al monolito de la diosa Tlaltecuhtli y el Huei Cuauhxicalco.” In Al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan: Estudios en honor de Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Ximena Chávez Balderas, 1:37–86. Mexico City: El Colegio Nacional. López Luján, Leonardo. 2020. “Imágenes del mundo: Las ofrendas del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” Arqueología Mexicana 27 (162): 15–23. López Luján, Leonardo, and Alejandra Aguirre Molina. 2010. “Cuchillos sacrificiales de la Ofrenda 125.” In Moctezuma II: Tiempo y destino de un gobernante, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Colin McEwan, 320–321. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia; London: British Museum. López Luján, Leonardo, and Amaranta Argüelles Echevarría. 2010. “Lobo de la Ofrenda 120.” In Moctezuma II: Tiempo y destino de un gobernante, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Colin McEwan, 310–311. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia; London: British Museum.

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López Luján, Leonardo, and Raúl Barrera. 2011. “Hallazgo de un edificio circular al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” Arqueología Mexicana 19 (112): 17. López Luján, Leonardo, and Ximena Chávez Balderas. 2010. “Ornamentos e insignias de oro de las ofrendas 124 y 125.” In Moctezuma II: Tiempo y destino de un gobernante, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Colin McEwan, 312–313. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia; London: British Museum. López Luján, Leonardo, Ximena Chávez Balderas, Norma Valentín, and Aurora Montúfar. 2010. “Huitzilopochtli y el sacrificio de niños en el Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” In El sacrificio en la tradición religiosa mesoamericana, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Guilhem Olivier, 367–394. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. López Luján, Leonardo, Ximena Chávez Balderas, Belem Zúñiga Arellano, Alejandra Aguirre Molina, and Norma Valentín Maldonado. 2012. “Un portal al inframundo: Ofrendas de animales sepultadas al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 44:9–40. López Luján, Leonardo, Giacomo Chiari, Alfredo López Austin, and Fernando Carrizosa. 2005. “Línea y color en Tenochtitlan: Escultura policromada y pintura mural en el recinto sagrado de la capital mexica.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 36:15–45. López Luján, Leonardo, and Marie-France Fauvet-Berthelot. 2005. Aztèques: La collection de sculptures du Musée du quai Branly. Paris: Musée du quai Branly. López Luján, Leonardo, and Ángel González López. 2014. “Tierra, agua y fuego al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan: Un conjunto de bajorrelieves de la época de Motecuhzoma Ilhuicamina.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 47:7–51. López Luján, Leonardo, and Alfredo López Austin. 2007. “Los mexicas en Tula y Tula en Mexico-Tenochtitlan.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 38:33–83. López Luján, Leonardo, and Patricia Meehan. 2018. “Orejera de turquesa.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 55: back cover. López Luján, Leonardo, and Vida Mercado. 1996. “Dos esculturas de Mictlantecuhtli encontradas en el Recinto Sagrado de México-Tenochtitlan.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 26:41–68. López Luján, Leonardo, and Óscar J. Polaco. 1991. “La fauna de la ofrenda H del Templo Mayor.” In La fauna en el Templo Mayor, edited by Óscar J. Polaco, 149–169. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia; GV Editores. López Luján, Leonardo, and José Luis Ruvalcaba Sil. 2015. “El oro de Tenochtitlan: La colección arqueológica del Proyecto Templo Mayor.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 49:7–57.

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López Luján, Leonardo, and Saburo Sugiyama. 2017. “The Ritual Deposits in the Moon Pyramid at Teotihuacan.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew H. Robb, 82–89. San Francisco: University of California Press. Matos Moctezuma, Eduardo. 1981. Una visita al Templo Mayor. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Matos Moctezuma, Eduardo. 1988. Ofrendas: Templo Mayor, Ciudad de México. Mexico City: Hewlett Packard. McCafferty, Geoffrey G., and Sharisse D. McCafferty. 2019. “Weapons of Resistance: The Material Symbolics of Postclassic Mexican Spinning and Weaving.” Latin American Antiquity 30 (4): 707–723. Nagao, Debra. 1985. Mexica Buried Offerings: A Historical and Contextual Analysis. BAR International Series 235. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports. Noguera, Eduardo. 1945. “El átlatl o tiradera.” Anales del Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Historia y Etnografía 2:205–238. Olivier, Guilhem. 2004. Tezcatlipoca: Burlas y metamorfosis de un dios azteca. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Olivier, Guilhem. 2007. “Sacred Bundles, Arrows, and New Fire: Foundation and Power in the Mapa de Cuauhtinchan No. 2.” In Cave, City, and Eagle’s Nest: An Interpretive Journey through the Mapa de Cuauhtinchan No. 2, edited by Davíd Carrasco and Scott Sessions, 281–313. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Olivier, Guilhem, and Leonardo López Luján. 2017. “De ancestros, guerreros y reyes muertos: El simbolismo de la espátula rosada (Platalea ajaja) entre los antiguos nahuas.” In Del saber ha hecho su razón de ser: Homenaje a Alfredo López Austin, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma and Angela Ochoa, 1:159–194. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Olko, Justyna. 2014. Insignia of Rank in the Nahua World: From Fifteenth to Seventeenth Century. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Olmo, Laura del. 1999. Análisis de la ofrenda 98 del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Ontiveros Escalona, Adriana. 2015. “Estudio arqueozoológico de las águilas reales depositadas en las ofrendas de Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” BA thesis, Escuela Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Mexico City. Pedraza Rubio, Gerardo, Leonardo López Luján, and Nicolás Fuentes Hoyos. 2017. “Huesos cruzados y corazones torcidos: Una ofrenda con insignias de oro al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” Arqueología Mexicana 24 (144): 44–50.

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Quezada, Osiris, Norma Valentín Maldonado, and Amaranta Argüelles. 2010. “Taxidermia y cautiverio de águilas en Tenochtitlan.” Arqueología Mexicana 18 (105): 18–23. Robles Cortés, Erika Lucero, Ximena Chávez Baldras, and Alejandra Aguirre Molina. 2019. “Imágenes de la muerte en la Ofrenda 141: El simbolismo de los cráneos efigie.” In Al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan: Estudios en honor de Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Ximena Chávez Balderas, 2:207–233. Mexico City: El Colegio Nacional. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–1982. Florentine Codex: General History of the Things of New Spain. 12 vols. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research; Salt Lake City: University of Utah. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1979. Códice Florentino: Manuscrito 218–20 de la Colección Palatina de la Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana. 3 vols. Mexico City: Secretaría de Gobernación. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1989. Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España. Mexico City: Alianza, Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes. Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1993. Primeros Memoriales. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press; Madrid: Patrimonio Nacional, Real Academia de la Historia. Saunders, Nicholas J. 1989. People of the Jaguar: The Living Spirit of Ancient America. London: Souvenir. Schultze, Niklas. 2008. “El proceso de producción metalúrgica en su contexto cultural: Los cascabeles de cobre del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan, México.” PhD diss., Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Mexico City. Schultze, Niklas. 2010. “Cobre para los dioses y oro para los españoles? Las propiedades sociales y simbólicas de un metal sin importancia.” In Producción de bienes de prestigio ornamentales y votivos de la América antigua, edited by Emiliano Melgar Tísoc, Reyna Solís Ciriaco, and Ernesto González Licón, 71–83. Doral, FL: Syllaba. Seler, Eduard. 2004. Las imágenes de animales en los manuscritos mexicanos y mayas. Mexico City: Juan Pablos. Soustelle, Jacques. 1982. El universo de los aztecas. Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Sugiyama, Nawa. 2017. “Pumas Eating Human Hearts? Animal Sacrifice and Captivity at the Moon Pyramid.” In Teotihuacan: City of Water, City of Fire, edited by Matthew H. Robb, 90–93. San Francisco: University of California Press. Taube, Karl A. 2012. “The Symbolism of Turquoise in Ancient Mesoamerica.” In Turquoise in Mexico and North America: Science, Conservation, Culture, and Collections, edited by Jonathan C. H. King, Max Carocci, Caroline Cartwright, Colin McEwan, and Rebecca Stacey, 117–134. London: Archetype.

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Tovar Manuscript. 1972. Manuscrit Tovar: Origines et croyances des Indiens du Mexique. Graz, Austria: Akademische Druck- und Verlagsanstalt. Valdez, Lidio M. 2019. “Inka Sacrificial Guinea Pigs from Tambo Viejo, Peru.” International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 29:595–601. Valentín Maldonado, Norma. 2018. “Preparación taxidérmica para las oblaciones del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” In Arqueología de la producción, edited by Emiliano Ricardo Melgar Tísoc and Linda Rosa Manzanilla Naim, 251–266. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Valentín Maldonado, Norma, and María de Lourdes Gallardo Parrodi. 2006. “Los colibríes ofrendados a Huitzilopochtli en el Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” Actualidades Arqueológicas 5:30–39. Valentín Maldonado, Norma, and Belem Zúñiga-Arellano. 2003. “La fauna de la ofrenda 103 del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan.” In Estudios etnobiológicos: Pasado y presente de México, edited by Aurora Montúfar López, 61–68. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Valverde Valdés, María del Carmen. 2004. Balam: El jaguar a través de los tiempos y los espacios del universo maya. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Velázquez Castro, Adrián. 1999. Tipología de los objetos de concha del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Velázquez Castro, Adrián. 2000. El simbolismo de los objetos de concha encontrados en las ofrendas del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Velázquez Castro, Adrián. 2007. La producción especializada de los objetos de concha del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Velázquez Castro, Adrián, and Arnd Adje Both. 2014. “El sonido de la tierra: Cascabeles de Oliva.” In Entramados sonoros de tradición mesoamericana, edited by Francisca Zalaquet R., Martha Ilia Nájera C., and Laura Elena Sotelo S., 17–50. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Velázquez Castro, Adrián, and Belem Zúñiga-Arellano. 2019. “Cambios y permanencias: La producción de objetos de concha tenochcas de los reinados de Axayácatl y Ahuítzotl.” In Al pie del Templo Mayor de Tenochtitlan: Estudios en honor de Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, edited by Leonardo López Luján and Ximena Chávez Balderas, 2:287–311. Mexico City: El Colegio Nacional. Vesque, Martine. 2017. “ ‘El instrumento para ver’ o tlachieloni.” Trace 71:111–137.

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Wagner, Diana. 1982. “Reporte de las ofrendas excavadas en 1978.” In El Templo Mayor: Excavaciones y estudios, edited by Eduardo Matos Moctezuma, 119–142. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Winning, Hasso von. 1987. La iconografía de Teotihuacan: Los dioses y los signos. 2 vols. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México.

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11 Animal Symbolism in Calendar Almanacs of the Codex Borgia and Links to Postclassic Imagery in Mexico Susan Milbrath

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Animals share the stage with gods and goddesses in the Codex Borgia, an early sixteenth-century screenfold book from central Mexico. The Codex Borgia originated in the Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley, where independent polities shared cultural traits and the Nahuatl language with neighboring Aztec communities, but resisted incorporation into the Aztec Empire (Milbrath 2013, 2–3, 112n9).1 This 76-page deer-hide book is the namesake of a group of related divinatory manuscripts, known as the “Borgia Group,” screenfold books that preserved accumulated knowledge related to the calendar and mantic influences of certain days and units of time (Boone 2007, 18). These portable lexicons of religious imagery feature almanacs that include many zoomorphic deities and rituals involving animal sacrifice. Compared with other codices in the Borgia Group, the Codex Borgia is unusual for its detailed imagery, which makes it ideal for studying animal symbolism in the context of the central Mexican calendar. It is also entirely unique for recording Calendar Round dates that can be correlated with “real time” in our calendar, because the dates note both the day and the year. In terms of animal imagery, the most intriguing occurrence of these Calendar Round dates is an almanac associated with the cardinal directions (Codex Borgia 49–53; figures 11.1–11.5). In this chapter, I explore the directional almanac on Borgia 49–53 with a focus on animals as calendar deities and scenes that show ritual killing of animals during https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c011

Figure 11.1. Codex Borgia 49, upper and lower directional almanac linked with the east with synopsis of ten scenes in lower almanac. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a 1993 photogaphic facsimile, Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA.)

year-end ceremonies. Then I examine the role of animals more broadly as calendar symbols, including animal day signs, animals representing numbers, and animal patrons of the calendar. This chapter also analyzes links between representations of animals in the Codex Borgia and animal imagery at Mayapan, a site considered to be the “capital” of the northern Maya world between 1200 and 1450, but also one that was clearly in contact with central Mexico. Animal deities in the directional almanac (Borgia 49–53) have counterparts among the animals representing day signs (Borgia 9–13) and the patrons of the trecenas (13-day periods) in the 260-day divination calendar (Borgia 61–70; Boone 2007, 48, table 6). Birds in the directional almanac can also be related to an almanac representing “Volatiles” that symbolize thirteen numbers used in the divination calendar, known as the tonalpohualli or “count of days” (Boone 2007, 46, table 4). Half of the twenty day signs in the divination calendar portray animals, and many of these creatures also appear in rituals represented in the directional almanac (table 11.1). Most of the animals depicted in the directional almanac can be identified by genus and species, although a few are fantastical creatures that combine attributes of different animals. These include the fire serpent and feathered serpent, which represents “otherworldly” animal deities like the Composite Creature from Chichen Itza discussed by Cecelia Klein in chapter 3. Some animals in

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Figure 11.2. Codex Borgia 50, upper and lower directional almanac linked with the north. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a 1993 photographic facsimile, Akademische Druk- u. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA.)

the directional almanac can be linked with specific celestial bodies, the most well known being the solar eagle, the lunar rabbit, and the feathered serpent, embodying the Venus god, Quetzalcoatl.

FORMAT OF THE DIRECTIONAL ALMANAC

Past studies of Codex Borgia 49–53 have not adequately established a ritual context for the directional imagery. Eduard Seler’s (1963) commentary on the Codex Borgia, originally published in 1904–1909, analyzed the iconography 284

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Figure 11.3. Codex Borgia 51, upper and lower directional almanac linked with the west. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a 1993 photographic facsimile, Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA.)

in some detail, but he failed to recognize that the images represent year-end ceremonies. Seler (1963, 2:100; 1990–2000, 1:65–67) identified year dates in this almanac but did not link them with “real-time” notations. This connection was also missed in recent studies that focused on descriptions of images assigned to the cardinal directions and calendrical cycles involving the trecenas (Batalla 2008, 445–454; Boone 2007, 121–132; Sánchez Vásquez 2009). Christine Hernández (2004, tables 11.7, 11.11) first proposed that the year signs and associated tonalpohualli dates on Borgia 49–52 could be late Postclassic Calendar Round inscriptions that note specific dates in the 52-year A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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Figure 11.4. Codex Borgia 52, upper and lower directional almanac linked with the south. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a 1993 photographic facsimile, Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA.)

cycle (xiuhmolpilli). Working with Gabrielle Vail, she noted that the imagery in the directional almanac may be related to the year-end in Izcalli, the last veintena festival in the Aztec year, but they did not explore any links with the Calendar Round dates recorded on these pages and the festival of Izcalli (Vail and Hernández 2006, 75). My research has added a new dimension by analyzing the Calendar Round dates and imagery as specific representations of yearend ceremonies (Milbrath 2013, 12, 34–35, 105, 121n66, 121n67; 2020). This directional almanac links time and space through calendrical inscriptions and imagery symbolizing the cardinal directions. The lower sections (b) of Borgia 49–52 depict sets of ten scenes associated with different dates and cardinal directions (figure 11.1, Borgia 49b–52b). The trees featured on each page symbolize calendar ceremonies performed during Izcalli, when trees were erected to encourage early planting (Durán 1971, 465–467). The Codex Telleriano-Remensis says that Izcalli was a festival of fire and rejuvenation because the trees were heated to force them to bloom in an effort to “hurry along” spring growth in the month of February (Milbrath 2013, 24, 118n31; Quiñones Keber 1995, 151). One of the repeated scenes on Borgia 49b–52b features fire drilling that apparently represents a fire-boring ceremony performed during Izcalli (Milbrath 2013, 35; 2020; Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:33). Calendar Round dates discussed in the next section also relate to Izcalli, when animal 286

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Figure 11.5. Codex Borgia 53; central direction at lower right, beginning of Venus almanac on lower left. (After Ehrle 1898. File:Codex Borgia page 53.jpg - Wikimedia Commons.)

sacrifices were performed at year-end. Variations in the scenes of animal sacrifice show a changing cycle of rituals associated with the rotation in the yearbearer that named the year.2 The fifth page (Borgia 53b), marking the center, has only one main scene and two day signs with no year signs (figure 11.5; Boone 2007, table 10). The two day signs are now so deteriorated that their meaning cannot be deciphered, although they might refer to the five-day nemontemi at year-end, just following Izcalli (Milbrath 2020, 27). The animals depicted in the directional almanac (Borgia 49b–53b) include the following sequence. A fire serpent, a bat, an eagle vessel, and three quetzals A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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T ABLE 11.1. Day names with supernatural patrons and associated names with animals in bold (modified after Boone 2007, table 5) Order

Day Sign

Supernatural Patron

1

Crocodile (Cipactli)

Tonacatecuhtli (Our Flesh [Maize] Lord)

2

Wind (Ehecatl)

Quetzalcoatl (Quetzal Serpent)

3

House (Calli)

Tepeyollotl (Hill Heart), Jaguar god

4

Lizard (Cuetzpalin)

Huehuecoyotl (Old Coyote)

5

Serpent (Coatl)

Chalchiuhtlicue ( Jade Her Skirt)

6

Death (Miquiztli)

Tecciztecatl (Conch Shell Lord)

7

Deer (Mazatl)

Tlaloc (rain god)

8

Rabbit (Tochtli)

Mayahuel (maguey goddess)

9

Water (Atl)

Xiuhtecuhtli (Turquoise [year] Lord)

10

Dog (Itzcuintli)

Mictlantecuhtli (Death Lord)

11

Monkey (Ozomatli)

Xochipilli (Flower Prince)

12

Grass (Malinalli)

Patecatl (Medicine Lord)

13

Reed (Acatl)

Tezcatlipoca-Ixquimilli (Smoking Mirror-Eye Bundle)

14

Jaguar (Ocelotl)

ruled by Tlazolteotl (Filth Goddess)

15

Eagle (Cuauhtli)

Red Tezcatlipoca or Xipe Totec (Flayer God)

16

Vulture (Cozcacuauhtli)

Itzpapalotl (Obsidian Butterfly)

17

Movement (Ollin)

Xolotl (Monster) Dog God

18

Flint (Tecpatl)

Chalchiuhtotolin ( Jade Turkey)

19

Rain (Quiauitl)

Tonatiuh (Sun)

20

Flower (Xochitl)

Xochiquetzal (Flower Quetzal)

represent the east (Borgia 49b). Two jaguars and two eagles symbolize the north (Borgia 50b). Two crocodiles and shark and a dark-colored raptor (hawk or falcon?) represent the west (Borgia 51b). A horned owl, a scarlet macaw, a feathered serpent, two eagles, and a rabbit symbolize the south (Borgia 52b). Borgia 53b (center) depicts a quetzal and a crocodilian band symbolizing the earth. Generally each page depicts different animals, but eagles appear on both Borgia 50b and 52b and quetzals on 49b and 53b. CODEX BORGIA 49B– 52B CALENDAR LAYOUT

Although it may seem like a digression to talk about the calendar in a chapter on animal imagery, the animals portrayed in the directional almanac play a role in the year-end ceremonies; hence it is important to outline the Calendar 288

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Round dates, the associated festival periods, and directional aspects of the trecenas on pages 49b–52b. Each page records a set of five days that lead off trecenas associated with different cardinal directions, which divide the 260-day divination calendar into a 5 × 52-day format shown in strips at the bottom of each page (figures 11.1–11.4). Borgia 49b begins with five trecenas associated with the eastern quarter of the calendar, and sets of five trecenas representing the north, west, and south appear on the next three pages.3 The year dates with “trapeze-and-ray” year signs on Borgia 49b–52b represent a 4 × 65-day format, marking 13-year intervals in the 52-year cycle (figure 11.1, scene 7; Milbrath 2020).4 The fact that the year dates all use a coefficient of 4 is a clue to their likely historicity, for if the almanac were purely canonical intervals quartering the 52-year cycle, the year dates would all bear the number 1 (Victoria Bricker, personal communication 2019). The four year dates on Borgia 49b–52b each appear alongside a different day sign that bears the number 5 (figure 11.1, scenes 6 and 7).5 Because the Codex Borgia dates near the end of the Postclassic, the Julian calendar dates are reconstructed as follows (add nine days for our Gregorian calendar): February 17, 1458 (year 4 House and day 5 Movement, Borgia 49b) February 14, 1471 (year 4 Rabbit and day 5 Wind, Borgia 50b) February 11, 1484 (year 4 Reed and day 5 Deer, Borgia 51b) February 7, 1497 (year 4 Flint and day 5 Grass, Borgia 52b) These Calendar Round dates all mark the year-end for which they correspond (Milbrath 2013, 24, table 3.1).6 My research has identified specific aspects related to the annual Izcalli festival, most notable in imagery of sacred trees, animal sacrifice, and fire-drilling.7 In fact, elements related to this festival appear in five of the ten scenes on Borgia 49b–52b (figure 11.1, scenes 3, 6–9; Milbrath 2020). The 365-day year (xihuitl) was shared throughout central Mexico, including Tlaxcala. Like most Aztec calendars, the Tlaxcalan Relaciones Geográficas names Izcalli as the eighteenth and final veintena of the year (Acuña 1984, 226–228; Caso 1967, table X; Milbrath 2013, 5–7, 24, 112–113nn13–14). Table 11.2 lays out the year 4 Flint, represented on Borgia 52b, with Izcalli at year-end representing the 20-day period running from January 25, 1497, to February 13, 1497, and the date 5 Grass corresponds to February 7 in 1497 (in italics in table 11.2). The yearbearer 4 Flint on Borgia 52b is the 340th day in table 11.2 (the last day of Tititl), but the position of the yearbearer is not entirely certain. The

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festivals may have begun a half day before the tonalpohualli day, which would place the yearbearer on the first day of Izcalli.8 The yearbearer date 4 Flint had two occurrences in the year, but the second proves to be most significant because it names the year.9 Other calendar inscriptions on Borgia 49b–52b include full-figure day signs (figure 11.1, scene 4). Although Seler (1963, 2:95–96) interpreted these figures as ball players, they are now recognized as “animated” day signs: 4 Monkey, 4 Vulture, 4 Crocodile, and 4 Death (Boone 2007, table 10; Hernández 2004, table 11.7). These form a second set of Calendar Round dates when paired with the years 4 House, 4 Rabbit, 4 Reed, and 4 Flint (figure 11.1, scenes 4 and 7). The animated day signs mark 65-day intervals in the 260-day calendar when moving from page to page, but they also designate a 65-day period counting to the year-end, like a count known from descriptions of the Tlaxcalan calendar (Acuña 1984, 225).10 The sequencing of the ten scenes on Borgia 49–52 suggests a counterclockwise reading because the animated day signs on the upper left of each page mark a date that falls four trecenas (52 days) before the date below (figure 11.1, scenes 4 and 6) and one trecena before the year-end, an interval that may be referenced by the twelve dots on each page.11

ANIMAL ICONOGRAPHY ON BORGIA 49B– 52B

Calendar Round dates in the directional almanac establish a relationship between time and space, represented by different cardinal directions associated with the animal images (table 11.3). In diagramming the “shape of time,” the east and west directions are horizon-based solar directions, as seems to be the case in all Mesoamerican systems. Some Mesoamerican models relate north and south to the up and down directions, equated with the zenith and underworld (V. Bricker 1983; Brotherston 1976, 55; Milbrath 1999, 70–74), but because Borgia page 53b symbolizes the central direction in the directional almanac, north and south could actually refer to geographical locations on earth. The East: Borgia 49b. Beginning with the scene in the upper right, Borgia 49b shows a bat attacking a death god, one of four animal attack scenes in the yearbearer pages (figure 11.1, scene 1). The bat is clearly a deity, for he wears the fileted headband worn by the Sun God (Tonatiuh) on the same page and a conical cap seen in a number of images of Quetzalcoatl in the Codex Borgia (pages 9, 19, 55–56, 72–73). Alongside, Tonatiuh offers a heart to the sun disk in the temple of the east, marking the direction of the rising sun (figure 11.1, scene 2). To the left of the temple a jeweled tree of sacrifice features two decapitated quetzals alongside the animated day sign 4 Monkey (figure 11.1, scenes 3 and 4). The tree also bears 290

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9

Motion

Flint

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

4 5 6 7 8 9

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

11 12 13 1 2 3

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

5 6 7 8 9 10

5th

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

12 13 1 2 3 4

6th

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

6 7 8 9 10 11

7th

8th

9th

10th 11th 12th

13th

14th

15th

16th

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

13 1 2 3 4 5

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

7 8 9 10 11 12

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

1 2 3 4 5 6

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

8 9 10 11 12 13

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

2 3 4 5 6 7

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

9 10 11 12 13 1

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

3 4 5 6 7 8

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

10 11 12 13 1 2

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

10

9

8

7

6

5 12

4 11

11 12 13 1 2 3

11

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

13

12

11

5 6 7 8 9 10

12 13 1 2 3

1/5 1/25 2/14

10

4 5 6 7 8 9

17th 18th 19th

The veintena cycles are based on the Aztec calendar, documented in a variety of sources and summarized in Nicholson 1971, table 4. All the dates are in the Julian calendar used by Europeans at the time of the conquest (add nine days in the fifteenth century for dates in our Gregorian calendar). The year 4 Flint is shown on Codex Borgia 52b. Because 1496 was a leap year in our calendar, the month of February was 29 days long. The yearbearer date on Borgia 52b appears in bold, the date 5 Grass is in italics and bold, and the animated day sign bold and underlined (adapted from Milbrath 2013: table 2.4).

7

8

Vulture

5

6

Jaguar

4

Reed

Eagle

2

3

Grass

1

Dog

Monkey

13

Water

5

11

12

Deer

Rabbit

3

4

9

10

Serpent

Death

10 11 12 13 1 2

3 4 5 6 7 8

4th

2/20 3/11 3/30 4/20 5/10 5/30 6/19 7/9 7/29 8/18 9/7 9/27 10/17 11/6 11/26 12/16

Rain Flower Crocodile Wind House Lizard

3rd

1496– 1497

2nd

1st

Festival

T ABLE 11.2. Year 4 Flint (year beginning February 20, 1496)

an eagle-headed vessel with two hearts, symbolizing a cuauhxicalli, the “eagle vessel” used for burned Borgia 49b: East offerings and sacrificial offerings Bat attacking Death God of hearts dedicated to the sun Decapitated quetzals on tree of sacrifice (Baquedano 1984, 84, plate 84; Animated Monkey day sign Seler 1963, 2:94). Another quetQuetzal on flowering vine wrapped around a jeweled tree zal perches on a flowering vine Fire serpent with fire drill wrapped around a jeweled tree Borgia 50b: North that represents a “world tree” in Jaguar attacked by Mixcoatl the east (figure 11.1, scene 8). Decapitated eagle and jaguar on tree of sacrifice All of these scenes are conAnimated Vulture (actually a Turkey) day sign nected in some way with the east, Eagle on nopal cactus the direction of the rising sun, Borgia 51b: West but the quetzal on the flowering Crocodile attacking Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli tree could be significant in terms Decapitated crocodile and shark on tree of sacrifice of geographic symbolism. In refAnimated Crocodile day sign erence to central Mexico, east Raptor with curved feathers on tasseled maize may refer to the tropical lowplant lands east of central Mexico. The Borgia 52b: South current range of the resplendent Eagle and feathered serpent fighting over a rabbit quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno) Horned owl in temple is southeast of central Mexico, Decapitated eagle and man on tree of sacrifice Scarlet macaw on spiny tree (mesquite or sisal?) extending from Chiapas almost Borgia 53b: Center to the border of Veracruz (HowQuetzal on maize plant with mature cobs ell and Webb 1995, 436).12 The last scene with animals on the lower right of Borgia 49b shows the fire serpent, which the Aztecs called xiuhcoatl (“turquoise serpent” or “year serpent”). Here the new fire associated with Izcalli is drilled directly on the back of the fire serpent (figure 11.1, scene 9). This composite creature, most likely part insect and part reptile, has a segmented body, a volute with stars on its snout, and a tail that symbolizes the year sign. On Borgia 46 the trapeze and ray year sign actually forms the tail of the fire serpent (figure 11.6). Here the fire serpent literally encases his alter ego, the fire god, Xiuhtecuhtli (“Turquoise [year] Lord”). This may be one reason Xiuhtecuhtli is the “year lord.” Another reason may be because Xiuhtecuhtli’s principal festival came at year-end, during Izcalli, the festival represented by the fire-drilling scene on Borgia 49b (figure 11.1). This was the eighteenth and last veintena festival in T ABLE 11.3. Animals in the directional almanac on Borgia 49b–53b, beginning at upper right of the lower section on each page

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Figure 11.6. Codex Borgia 46 showing the fire serpent and fire drilling during the festival Panquetzaliztli. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a 1993 photographic facsimile, Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, ADEVA.)

the year, which spanned from late January to mid-February, at the midpoint of the dry season (table 11.2). The fire serpent is best understood in the context of Aztec iconography, where it appears with a curved snout that bears stars and a pointed tail resembling a solar ray. Aztec images of the star-snouted Xiuhcoatl show it worn on the back of the fire god, Xiuhtecuhtli, whose principal festival involved drilling a new fire during Izcalli in February, midway through the dry season (Nicholson 1971, fig. 10, table 4). The Xiuhcoatl has long been recognized as a symbol of the dry season among the Aztecs (Caso 1953, 100; Gillespie 1989, 89). A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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It is important to note that Izcalli, the principal festival of the fire god, marked the end of the solar year, so the fire serpent may symbolize the completion of the year itself at the midpoint of the six-month dry season (November–April). The fire serpent also played an important role in the Aztec Panquetzaliztli festival, the fifteenth festival of the year, which began in November (the first month of the dry season) and overlapped with the winter solstice, corresponding to December 21 in our Gregorian calendar or December 11 or 12 in the Julian calendar used at the time of the conquest (13 Eagle in 1496; table 11.2). During Panquetzaliztli, a ceremonial pageant in the Templo Mayor celebrated the birth of the solar god, Huitzilopochtli, who was born armed with the star-snouted Xiuhcoatl (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:141–150; Schwaller 2019, 18–19). It is noteworthy that his birth coincided with the festival period of the winter solstice. In chapter 7 Emily Umberger and Elizabeth Aguilera explore this connection between the Xiuhcoatl and the solar god, Huitzilopochtli, and they point out that the Aztec solar god Huitzilopochtli carries the Xiuhcoatl, a weapon used to kill and dismember the lunar goddess Coyolxauhqui. They interpret the serpent’s pointed tail as a solar ray that enabled this god to dominate his nocturnal enemies. Nonetheless, the Xiuhcoatl’s pointed tail may have evolved from symbols of the solar ray in the year sign, like that seen on the tail of the fire serpent on Borgia 46 (figure 11.6).13 The Xiuhcoatl is always shown with a curved row of stars, suggesting that Huitzilopochtli bears a stellar weapon. Anthony Aveni (2019, 32–33) noted that Coyolxauhqui’s dismemberment coincides with the death of her 400 brothers, who symbolize the clustered stars in the Pleiades. Because stars in the Pleiades were killed by a solar god armed with his Xiuhcoatl, the starry fire serpent must represent a star group other than the Pleiades.14 There are several possible candidates. The Primeros Memoriales represents an unidentified constellation called Xonecuilli, described as an S-shaped constellation that “shines brightly” (Sahagún 1997, 155n12). This same star group is mentioned in the Florentine Codex, where it is identified as Ursa Minor (“Little Bear”; Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:13, 66). Aveni (2001, figs. 10, 11) tentatively identifies the Xonecuilli constellation more specifically as the Little Dipper (in Ursa Minor), and he notes that this may be the constellation represented in the star patterns on the side of the Aztec Calendar Stone and the curving star group that appears on the snout of the two fire serpents on the Aztec Calendar Stone. It is also possible that the Xiuhcoatl’s constellation on the Calendar Stone represents a curved configuration of stars in the constellation we call Scorpio (or Scorpius), sometimes identified as a star scorpion (Milbrath 1997, 202; 2013, 118n28, 144n100).15 Sahagún’s Citlalcolotl (“star scorpion”) is identified 294

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in the Florentine Codex as Ursa Major (“Big Bear”; Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:13, 66, fig. 21), but Aveni (2001, 47, fig. 10) suggests that the scorpion stars instead represent Scorpio. Ursa Major may be one of two scorpion constellations in the sky, and the other could be Scorpio (chapter 9). One reason to presume Scorpio is important is that this star group moves into conjunction with the sun at the beginning of the dry season, when Huitzilopochtli was newborn, armed with a starry fire serpent during Panquetzaliztli.16 At the beginning of Panquetzaliztli in late November, during the festival honoring the birth of this solar god, the sun was in conjunction with the constellation Scorpio, and by the end of Panquetzaliztli Scorpio was seen on the eastern horizon around dawn (festival 15, table 11.2). Thus, at dawn in November, the Aztec solar god was carried up by Scorpio, apprently visualized as Huitzilopochtli’s star-snouted fire serpent.17 The Aztec festival honored the tribal god Huitzilopochtli, but in Tlaxcala the Panquetzaliztli festival honored the fire god instead, because the Tlaxcaltecs did not worship Huitzilopochtli, the tribal god of their sworn enemies (Milbrath 2013, 30). Nonetheless, the fire serpent was featured in both versions of Panquetzaliztli. The scene on Borgia 46, showing the star-snouted Xiuhcoatl encasing the fire god, Xiuhtecuhtli, is the last page of a unique 18page seasonal narrative that highlights annual festivals corresponding to major solar events (figure 11.6).18 This page depicts Panquetzaliztli, the fifteenth festival of the calendar, which overlapped with the winter solstice in our calendar (13 Eagle, table 11.2; Milbrath 2013, 30–31, 118n28). The fire serpent appears in contexts related to the dry season in the narrative, whereas a bat, bees, and hummingbirds represent animals symbolizing the rainy season on other pages of the narrative (Borgia 38, 40, 44; Milbrath 2013, plates 10, 12, 16). The fire serpent in the Codex Borgia embodies nocturnal symbolism similar to Aztec representations (Milbrath 2013, 30–31, 83, 106). Identifying the fire serpent as Scorpio may explain why it appears on Borgia 49b in a scene associated with the east during Izcalli in February, when the star scorpion was crossing the southern meridian at dawn.19 Parallel scenes on Borgia 50b–52b show the fire drilled on different objects (a knife, a jade disk, and a feather headdress), and these symbols may refer to other signs observed in different parts of the sky during Izcalli. The North: Borgia 50b. The knife in the fire-drilling scene of the north is especially intriguing because a flint knife represents the central symbol of the moon in the lunar crescent on this page (figure 11.2). Lunar imagery is also suggested by the animal attack scene on Codex Borgia 50b, which features a jaguar god being attacked by Mixcoatl. Mixcoatl, the “cloud serpent” A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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linked with hunting and the planet Venus, spears a jaguar god who apparently symbolizes the moon (Olivier 2003, 123–124; 2015, 94–95, 385, 408–411). Alongside, another god linked with Venus, Itztlacoliuhqui (“curved obsidian blade”), stands in front of a temple and offers a heart to a crescent moon that bears a flint knife (Milbrath 1999, 174; 2013, 39, 65, 133n103). To the left, the tree of sacrifice is nourished by the blood of a jaguar and an eagle, both shown as decapitated victims. The pairing of an eagle and jaguar in sacrificial rites recalls the important role these two creatures played in the creation of the sun and moon at Teotihuacan. Sahagún (1950–1982, 7:50) noted that just before the sun was born, these two animals threw themselves into the sacred fire, and this is why they are the alter egos of the bravest warriors. The jaguar in this myth is a symbol of the moon, and the eagle represents the sun (Graulich 1997, 124; Milbrath 2013, 60; Olivier 2003, 95–97, 124). Jaguars and eagles represented the highest military ranks because these animals symbolized desirable characteristics for warriors, most notably speed, strength, agility, and ferocity (Hull and Fergus 2009, 101). Molly Bassett (2019, 148–149) adds that warriors in the Order of the Ocelotl (ocelopetatl) had the characteristics of the jaguar: patience, ferocity, accuracy, and deadliness, and they also were associated with “bravery, dexterity, and humility,” characteristics hunters observed when they encountered these animals in the wild. On the upper left of Borgia 50b, the animated day sign portraying a turkey is usually interpreted as a reference to the date 4 Vulture (figure 11.2; Boone 2007, 129; Hernández 2004; Milbrath 2020; Nowotny 2005, 250–251). Like other animated day signs in the directional almanac, this date represents a period of 65 days before the year-end. And the world tree and bird representing the north is an eagle on a nopal cactus. Ashley Sharpe (2014, 329) suggests that the eagle relates to the sun in the north because that is where the sun is usually seen in Mesoamerica. If we take a more geographical perspective, when viewed from the central highland valleys the cactus could symbolize the arid areas in the north and the eagle on the cactus could have similar associations. This would suggest the bird is a golden eagle, which currently inhabits the area north of central Mexico. On the other hand, the crest of head feathers and the coloration of the eagle in the Codex Borgia leads Sharpe (2014, 327–328, table 4) to identify it as a harpy eagle (Harpia harpyja), but the current range of the harpy eagle in Mesoamerica is to the south of central Mexico. Further discussion of the eagle follows in the section on animal day signs. The West: Borgia 51b. The western direction on Borgia 51b features a crocodile attacking the Venus god, Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, a god associated with the morning star as “the lord of dawn” (figure 11.3).20 The temple of the west houses 296

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a tobacco gourd (yetecomatl), and the god carrying a heart into the temple has been identified as the solar god, Xochipilli, or the maize god, Centeotl (Boone 2007, table 10; Seler 1963, 2:92). To the left of the temple, a flowering tree of sacrifice bears a sun disk on top, probably referring to the sun setting in the west. Once again the tree is nourished by the blood of decapitated victims, here represented by a crocodile and a spiny fish that most likely represents a shark, which sometimes seems interchangeable with the crocodile (see note 19) as seen in the creation myths discussed below in relation to Cipactli. To the left, the year 4 Reed, paired with the animated day sign 4 Crocodile, refers to a date 65 days before the year-end, as noted earlier. A tasseled maize plant, symbolizing the world tree of the west, serves as a perch for a blue-gray raptor with curled feathers, identified as either a hawk or a falcon (Sharpe 2014, table 1, fig. 14a). There is considerable confusion about the distinction between falcons and hawks, so either bird may be the symbol of the west in the directional almanac. Solar symbolism may be evident in the raptor associated with the west on Borgia 51b (figure 11.3). It is noteworthy that the Florentine Codex illustrates an image of the Quauhtlotli that shows the bird being offered a heart by a man with a hummingbird head. Guilhem Olivier (2019, fig. 7.1) identifies this image as “Huitzilopochtli with a falcon.” Dibble and Anderson’s translation notes that the Quauhtlotli eats before sunrise, at midday, and after sunset, and “this falcon gives life to Uitzilopochtli because . . . when they eat three times a day, as it were [they] give drink to the sun” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:44). The bird in question could be a hawk, but the link between Huitzilopochtli, a raptor, and solar imagery is very intriguing. A number of the hawks in the Florentine Codex have names that include the term tlotli (tlohtli in current Nahuatl orthography), including a raptor called cuauhtlohtli or tlocuahtli (quauhtlotli or tlhoquahtlin), identified as Circus cyaneus (northern harrier) by Dibble and Anderson, a hawk that they mistakenly call a falcon in their translation (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:43–44n23, figs. 133–135). The northern harrier, or gavilán rastrero, is Circus cyaneus hudsonius, a hawk found throughout Mexico, which has a gray to brownish body, white underbody, and black wingtips (Howell and Webb 1995, 185). This bird could be represented in the murals of Classic-period Teotihuacan, for a similar raptor has been interpreted as a solar symbol at the site (Angulo 1998, 34). In the directional almanac this bird may represent the sun in the west, for Borgia 51 depicts a symbol of the setting sun on the tree of sacrifice. And in the geographical model proposed here the falcon or hawk may be a bird linked with the area of Teotihuacan, northwest of where the Codex Borgia originated in the Puebla-Tlaxcala valley. A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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The South: Borgia 52b. The last of the yearbearer pages, symbolizing the south on Borgia 52b, shows an eagle and feathered serpent fighting over a rabbit in the year 4 Flint (figure 11.4). A lunar connection is apparent in Aztec accounts describing the pattern on the moon as a rabbit (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:38). A number of Borgia images show a rabbit framed by the lunar crescent (see figure 11.7). Given the rabbit’s link with the moon, the eagle attacking the rabbit may symbolize a lunar eclipse. In parallel directional almanacs of the Borgia Group codices, there are repeated images of an eagle tearing a rabbit out of the jaws of a feathered snake. The next scene on Borgia 52b shows Mictlantecuhtli offering a decapitated man to a horned owl inside the temple of the south (figure 11.4). To the left, a beheaded man appears with a decapitated eagle, both nourishing the tree of sacrifice with their blood. This follows a pattern evident on three of the four yearbearer pages, where the attack scenes involve animals that are then beheaded under a tree of sacrifice (Borgia 50b–52b; figures 11.2–11.4). Borgia 52 shows human sacrifice in contrast to the more humble sacrificial offerings of birds (Durán 1971, 227). Scenes showing heart offerings in a temple appear on the first three yearbearer pages, but on Borgia 52b a beheaded man is the temple offering. Sahagún (1950–1982, 2:160, 162) noted that human sacrifice was performed during Izcalli only every fourth year. In other years only animals were sacrificed to the new fire in Izcalli. Sahagún did not specify which yearbearer was associated with the fourth year, but in the Borgia directional almanac it is noteworthy that animals are sacrificed on the first three pages whereas human sacrifice is only represented on the fourth yearbearer page. This suggests that the Izcalli festival was especially important in the fourth year, for Durán (1971, 227) noted a high value was placed on human sacrifice. At the bottom of Borgia 52b a scarlet macaw perches on a thorny plant (mesquite or sisal?) sprouting from the body of a skeletal earth goddess (figure 11.4). Sharpe (2014, 321) notes that the macaw’s association with the south may relate to “the location of its natural habitat in respect to the codices’ place of origin.” Again geography may play a role, for the scarlet macaw is not native to the central highlands but is found instead in the lowlands to the south, the cardinal direction associated with Borgia 52b. The Center: Borgia 53b. The last image in the directional almanac is a maize plant with multicolored cobs sprouting from the body of a death goddess. Quetzalcoatl appears with a god whose body paint is the same as the god named 5 Grass (macuil malinalli) on Borgia 48a, and both gods nourish the maize stalk with their blood. This maize “tree” at the center has been described 298

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as an image related to creation cosmology, for trees play a role in creation accounts throughout Mesoamerica (Koontz 2009, 101–102). Nonetheless, as Rex Koontz points out, ceremonies involving the erection of trees are also apparent in the Aztec festival calendar. The world trees in all five scenes may be like those erected in the Izcalli festival, as discussed previously. The bird perched on the maize plant has a very long tail and a tuft of head feathers, and most clearly represents a quetzal, despite its brown color.21 The bird presumed to be a quetzal in the east on Borgia 49b is somewhat different, displaying fanned wing feathers, a relatively short tail, an oval eye, and ruffled feathers on both the neck and head, including a tuft of feathers resembling an ear at the back of the head (figure 11.1).22 Based on parallels with other directional almanacs of the Borgia Group, however, the quetzal-like bird Borgia 49b seems to symbolize the eastern direction, and artistic parameters may have determined differences in the representation of the quetzals.23 In the case of Borgia 53b, the quetzal symbolizing “the center” does not work well with the geographical model proposed for bird images in the directional almanac (figure 11.5). The quetzal is not adapted to the cold highlands regions, so it could not symbolize the terrestrial center in the Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley. The northernmost range of Pharomachrus mocinno is the cloud forests of the southern Mexican states of Oaxaca and Chiapas, and it is not able to survive in captivity. Nonetheless, the geographical model seems relevant to the scarlet macaw representing the south and the quetzal associated with the east (or southeast), the eagle in the north, and the falcon or hawk in the west (or northwest). The next section introduces a broader discussion of animal symbolism, which includes a number of animals represented in the directional almanac, expanding the framework for interpretation.

ALMANACS DEPICTING THE VOLATILES

It is noteworthy that all of the birds in the directional almanac also appear among a series of “Volatiles” on Borgia 71 that represent thirteen numbers (figure 11.7). This introduces an esoteric aspect of animal symbolism, for the birds on Borgia 49b–53b may also embody numbers. In the directional almanac the quetzals in the east and center relate to the number 12, the raptor in the north to the number 8 (falcon or harpy eagle?), the raptor in the west (hawk or falcon?) to the number 5 (a black hawk-eagle in the Borgia?), and the scarlet macaw in the south to the number 11. No clear sequence is apparent in these numbers, but the symbolism of the Volatiles merits further discussion in order to provide an overview of birds that were of greatest interest in central Mexican iconography. A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

Figure 11.7. Codex Borgia 71 showing the thirteen Volatiles starting with two hummingbirds and ending with a quetzal and a parrot. (After Ehrle 1898. File:Codex Borgia page 71.jpg - Wikimedia Commons.)

Table 11.4 identifies the birds represented among the Volatiles and their scientific nomenclature and common names as well as Nahuatl names in the glosses that identify the Volatiles in the Codex Tudela and their closest counterparts in the natural history volume of the Florentine Codex (Book 11). Table 11.4 builds on a seminal article by Jonathan Kendall (1992) that identified the bird species in the Volatile almanacs and a more comprehensive study by Ashley Sharpe (2014, 327, table 1). She has revised some of Kendall’s identifications, pointing out that the Volatile series in different codices may depict different birds. She also notes that among the thirteen Volatiles, some families of birds are represented by more than one taxon, as is the case with the owls and hummingbirds (figure 11.7). 300

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The Codex Borgia Volatiles almanac has no known parallel in other manuscripts of the Borgia Group, but it can be compared to a similar series showing the Volatiles in Aztec codices dated to the early colonial period. Table 11.4 adds the scientfic names for the Volatiles in the Tudela by comparing the Nahuatl names with footnotes in Sahagún’s Book 11 and the names provided in Ashley Sharpe’s study of the Volatiles. Symbolic themes related to the Volatiles can be mentioned only briefly here, but a more extensive discussion of iconography related to the Volatiles appears in works by Seler (1963, 2:237–243; 1990–2000, 5:222–272, 313–322). It seems noteworthy that, among the Volatiles, a single butterfly (number 7) stands for the entire genus whereas a variety of birds are featured, including different species of owls and hummingbirds. Among the four extant Volatile series, the most detailed butterfly image appears in the Codex Tudela, which seems to represent a swallowtail butterfly.24 On Borgia 71 the number 7 appears with a white butterfly with red parabolic flecks on its wings (figure 11.7). The down balls on the wings of the Borgia butterfly probably symbolize a fuzzy quality, an attribute noted in Sahagún’s (1950–1982, 11:94) description of butterflies and moths. Scrolls on the top of the head could represent antennae or possibly a highly stylized dual proboscis, an unnatural feature seen on some butterflies in the Volatiles series of the Codex Borbonicus (pages 6–12). Lepidoptera were symbolically important among the Aztecs because they undergo a process of transformation, when they transmute from caterpillars into cocoons and then emerge as butterflies, which led them to be compared to the souls of dead warriors (Baquedano 2021, 224–226). There is also a seasonal patterning to their transformation, for in the highlands of central Mexico butterflies symbolized the rainy season (Milbrath 2013, 29, 31, 37, 51–52, 67). There are also a large number of predatory birds in the Volatile series, including two owls, one of which may be the screech owl, an ominous bird that called people to the land of death (Sahagún 1950–1982, 5:63). Other predators include the eagle, a bird with warlike associations discussed later in this chapter. Among the Volatiles the eagle is the only bird that also symbolizes a day sign. Five of the Volatiles in the four known Volatile series represent birds that were treasured for their feathers, including a quetzal, parrot, and macaw, and two hummingbirds. The long, luminescent tail feathers of the quetzal were especially prized and were imported as tribute to central Mexico from the lowlands, as seen in the Codex Mendoza (Berdan and Anawalt 1997, 104). Despite their tiny size, the aggressive nature of hummingbirds led them to be linked with the Aztec war god, Huitzilopochtli (Hunt 1977). A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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[ne]xuitzil

No. Generic name

Blue Hummingbird

Green Hummingbird

Dove

Quail

Raven

Hornless Owl

Butterfly

Falcon

Turkey

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

chalchihtotoli

tlotli

papalotl

chicuatli

cacatotl

tzulin

cocotzin

quetzalhuizil

Nahuatl name in Codex Tudela

totoli; turkey Sahagún p. 53

tlhotli or totli; Prairie falcon Sahagún p. 43

papalotl; generic name for butterfly Sahagún p. 94

chicuatli [chiquatli]; barn owl Sahagún p. 46

cacatotl; common raven Sahagún p. 43

tecucolin; Montezuma Quail Sahagún p. 49

cocotli; Inca dove Sahagún p. 48

quetzalhuizil; Broad-tailed hummingbird Sahagún p. 24

xihujtzilli; Costa’s hummingbird Sahagún p. 24

Nahuatl and common name in Sahagún 1950–1982: vol.11

Archilochus colubris

Eugenes fulgens

Scientific name in Sharpe 2014

* [Not a bird]

Tyto alba?

Spizaetus tyrannus

Quiscalus mexicanus;

Phylortyx fasciatus; Cyrtonyx montezumae

Meleagris gallopavo

Meleagris ocellata

Falco mexicanus Falco mexicanus Harpyhaliaetus solitarius

*

Tyto alba pratincola

Corvus corax sinuatus

Cyrtonyx montezumae

Scardafella inca *

Selasphorus platycercus

Calypte costae

Scientific name in notes to Sahagún

continued on next page

ocellated turkey

Tudela: Falcon Borgia: harpy eagle

* [Not a bird]

Hornless owl

Tudela: great-tailed grackle? Borgia: black hawk-eagle?

Tudela: Banded quail Borgia: Montezuma quail

Tudela: dove; Borgia: falcon or hawk

Ruby-throated hummingbird

Magnificent [Rivoli’s] hummingbird

Common name in Sharpe 2014

T ABLE 11.4. Nahuatl names for Volatiles in Codex Tudela (98v–99r) and similar flying creatures in Florentine Codex, Volume 11 (Sahagún 1950–1982) and Sharpe (2014)

Horned Owl

Scarlet Macaw

Quetzal

Parrot

10

11

12

13

* Name not given.

teocolotl

No. Generic name

toznene

quetzaltototl

chiconcuetzali

Nahuatl name in Codex Tudela

toznene; juvenile yellow-headed parrot Sahagún p. 22

Quetzaltototl; Resplendent trogon Sahagún p. 19

Alo; Scarlet macaw Sahagún p. 23

teocolotl; generic name for owl in Sahagún p. 42 but his fig. 126 shows a horned owl

Nahuatl and common name in Sahagún 1950–1982: vol.11

Amazona ochrocephala

Pharomachrus mocinno

Ara macao

*

Scientific name in notes to Sahagún

Amazona oratrix

Pharomachrus mocinno

Ara macao

*

Scientific name in Sharpe 2014

yellow-headed Parrot

Resplendent quetzal

Scarlet Macaw

Horned Owl

Common name in Sharpe 2014

The blue hummingbird representing the number 1 (table 11.4) is called xuitzil in the Codex Tudela, the counterpart of a hummingbird described in the Florentine Codex as “light blue like a cotinga, pale like fine turquoise” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:24n12), tentatively identified as Costa’s hummingbird (Calypte costae). Ashley Sharpe (2014, 371) notes that there are no blue hummingbirds in nature, and she suggests that this Volatile is actually Eugenes fulgens, the magnificent hummingbird, also known as Rivoli’s hummingbird. The male of this species has a turquoise blue patch on its throat and lives in central Mexico year-round, but is active largely in the rainy season (Howell and Webb 1995, 418, plate 31). Another possibility is the blue-throated hummingbird (Lampornis celmenciae), which also lives in central Mexico and is most active in the rainy season (Howell and Webb 1995, 418, plate 31). According to Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:24), the Aztecs thought that hummingbirds hibernated during the dry season and entered butterfly cocoons. An entirely different explanation appears in Durán (1971, 72–73), who noted that during winter the hummingbird goes to a leafy tree, seeks out a crack, pushes its beak into the crack, and stays there for six months, “nourishing itself with the essence of the tree. It appears to be dead, but at the advent of spring, when the tree acquires new life and gives forth new leaves, the little bird, with the aid of the tree’s life, is reborn.” Sharpe (2014, 371) suggests that the green hummingbird (number 2, the quetzalhuizil in table 11.4) could be the ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris), which makes a long migration south to central Mexico and Central America in November through December (Howell and Webb 1995, 424, plate 32). On the other hand, the identification proposed for the quetzalhuizil in the Florentine Codex is the broad-tailed hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus), a migrant that breeds in central Mexico during the summer (Howell and Webb 1995, 427, plate 32; Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:24n11). The bird representing the Volatile number 3 in the Codex Tudela is a dove, but the other Volatile series show a brown raptor, which may be a hawk or falcon (Sharpe 2014, 329, fig. 14.b). On Borgia 71 it is surrounded by knives, as are all other raptors in this almanac (figure 11.7). Volatile number 4 in the Codex Borgia is the Montezuma quail (Cyrtonyx montezumae), according to Sharpe (2014, 332–333, fig. 20), but she notes that the species represented in the Codex Tudela is a banded (barred) quail (Phylortyx fasciatus). Quail were considered to be an ideal sacrifice to the Sun God, as seen on Borgia 71 (figure 11.7), and their mottled white color evoked the stars in the night sky, which had to be conquered each day by the rising sun (see chapter 8). 304

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Sharpe (2014, 328) identifies the bird representing the number 5 in the Borgia as a black eagle, probably the black hawk-eagle (Spizaetus tyrannus), but she notes that the bird in the Codex Tudela is a crow, possibly the greattailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus). On the other hand, the Florentine Codex identifies the crow as the common raven (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:43). A hornless owl (number 6), may be the barn owl (Tyto alba), according to both Sharpe (2014, 331) and Kendall (1992, 113). Boone (2007, table 4) identifies this same bird as a screech owl, but this seems to be incorrect. Skipping over the previously discussed butterfly (Volatile number 7), Ashley Sharpe (2014) identified the bird representing Volatile number 8 as a harpy eagle (Harpyhaliaetus solitarius) in the Borgia, but its Nahuatl name in the Codex Tudela (tlotli) is identified as the prairie falcon (Falco mexicanus) in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:43n22; Sharpe 2014, 328). The turkey that represents the number 9 is most likely the ocellated turkey (Meleagris ocellata), one of the two species of turkeys in Mexico (Sharpe 2014, 332). Representing the number 10 is an owl with “horns,” which characterize a number of different owl species in Mexico. Sharpe (2014, 331) notes that a specific identification is not possible, even though scholars have tended to identify the horned owl depicted in the codices as the screech owl (genus Magascops) or the great horned owl (Bubo virginianus). The remaining numbers are more easily linked with their totemic birds. The scarlet macaw (Ara macao) represents the number 11, the resplendent quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno) the number 12, and number 13 is linked with the yellow-headed parrot, Amazona oratrix (Sharpe 2014, 320–321, 323, figs. 3–4, 7).

OTHER NUMBER SERIES ASSOCIATED WITH ANIMALS

Even though a specific pattern is not evident in the numbers associated with the birds on world trees in the directional almanac, we have only a limited understanding of the calendrical cycles that may be embedded in this almanac. Therefore, we cannot dismiss the possibility that numerology may play a role, especially because a number of the anthropomorphic deities in the directional almanac have direct counterparts in the thirteen Day Lords who accompany the Volatiles in Aztec codices (table 11.5). Aztec codices show the Lords of the Day in a repeated cycle of thirteen days in almanacs representing the trecenas. They are identified in table 11.5 based on the Codex Borbonicus (3–20), and counterparts also appear in the Codex Tudela (98v–99r) and the Aubin Tonalamatl (Batalla 2002; Boone 2007, 44–46, figs. 46, 47, table 4; Seler 1990–2000, 5:18, fig. 18a). The Day Lords in the A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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Codex Borbonicus appear with their companion Volatiles in a sequence of thirteen cells on each 1. Xiuhtecuhtli and blue hummingbird page of the trecena almanac, and 2. Tlaltecuhtli and green hummingbird their corresponding numbers are 3. Chalchiuhtlicue and hawk shown in separate cells alongside 4. Tonatiuh and quail (table 11.5).25 5. Tlazolteotl and eagle Xiuhtecuhtli (“Turquoise [year] Lord”), the first Day Lord, has 6. Mictlantecuhtli and screech owl a name that references both the 7. Centeotl and butterfly stone and the color turquoise, and 8. Tlaloc and eagle he is appropriately paired with a 9. Quetzalcoatl and turkey blue hummingbird called xuitzil 10. Tezcatlipoca and horned owl in the Codex Tudela, a bird 11. Chalmecatl or Mictlantecuhtli and macaw compared with fine turquoise in 12. Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli and quetzal the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 13. Ilamatecuhtli and parrot 1950–1982, 11:24).26 The fourth Day Lord, Tonatiuh, probably is associated with the quail because quail were the birds sacrificed to the Sun God at dawn (figure 11.7; see also chapter 8, this volume). The owl (number 6) is linked with the Death God because the owl’s call was an omen of death (Sahagún 1950–1982, 5:163). The link between the Maize God, Centeotl, and the butterfly (number 7) may be found in a riddle that compares the flapping wings of a butterfly to the patting of a tortilla (Berdan 1994, 154). Nonetheless, the relationships between other birds and their associated Day Lords are more mystifying. For example, the lord of the day with the number 12, Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (“dawn lord”), is accompanied by the quetzal, a bird usually connected with Quetzalcoatl (“quetzal-serpent”), and even though this deity has a quetzal name, he appears as the Day Lord linked with the turkey (number 9). The possibility remains that the numbers associated with specific birds and the deities represented in the directional almanac on Borgia 49–53 relate in some way to numerology, but such a study is beyond the scope of this chapter.27 Further insights about the directional almanac are to be found in examining the symbolism of animals among the day signs and patrons of the day signs and trecenas. These calendar almanacs include the most important icons in central Mexican animal imagery. Ten of the twenty day signs in the tonalpohualli calendar embody animals (table 11.1, left column). Except for the days Dog and Lizard, all the animals represented by day signs also appear among the animals depicted in the directional almanac on Borgia 49b–53b.

T ABLE 11.5. Thirteen Day Lords and their Volatile companions in the Codex Borbonicus (modified after Boone 2007, 46, table 4)

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ANIMALS AS CALENDAR SYMBOLS

The symbolism of animals represented by day signs and day patrons is clearly related to their physical features and animal behavior. The animal day signs have supernatural patrons that include a jaguar, a turkey, a coyote, a dog, and a butterfly (table 11.1, right column). The same patrons also rule the trecenas in Borgia Group codices (Boone 2007, tables 5, 6). The trecena patrons representing animals are a jaguar god (Tepeyollotl, Borgia 63b), a turkey god (Chalchiuhtotolin, Borgia 64a), a coyote god (Huehuecoyotl, Borgia 64b), a canine god (Xolotl, Borgia 65a), and a butterfly goddess (Itzpapalotl, Borgia 66a). Some anthropomorphic calendar patrons also have names that reference animals, which adds another layer of symbolism to the animal imagery (table 11.1, right column in bold). Except for Tepeyollotl, these patron animals do not appear in the directional almanac, but this almanac depicts almost all of the animal deities seen among the day signs, and only two animals in the directional almanac (the fish and quetzal) are not represented among the twenty day signs. Day Sign Crocodile. The first of the twenty day signs, Crocodile (Cipactli), represents a fearsome predator that symbolizes the earth. In Borgia Group codices the day sign Crocodile usually lacks a lower jaw, which Seler (1990–2000, 5:273) relates to the behavior of crocodiles resting with their jaws wide open as a way to cool off. The day sign Crocodile in the cell on the left of Borgia 50a is fairly typical, represented by a crocodile head with the upper jaw displaying spike-like teeth and blood flowing over its brow (figure 11.2, upper row). Similar features appear on the day sign Crocodile on Borgia 51b, a full-figure “animated” day sign that depicts latticed skin to represent crocodilian scutes and a spiny body (figure 11.3). Its snout bears a flint knife, colored half red and half white, a threatening detail linked to its role as a dangerous predator. On Borgia 51b, a knife-snout and bloody brow also characterize the creature in the scene of the crocodile devouring Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli, again emphasizing the predatory nature of the crocodile (figure 11.3). On the other hand, the decapitated crocodile beneath the tree of sacrifice on this page represents an offering, like those known from archaeological contexts in the Templo Mayor, where skulls and skin plaques (scutes) of crocodiles, either Crocodylus moreletti or C. acutus, were buried in ritual deposits (Lopéz Luján 1994, 131, 469n28). Crocodilian images in the Codex Borgia appear in a variety of contexts linked with earth symbolism. The earth-crocodile can be depicted by a simple ground line of latticed skin with a row of spines, as on Borgia 53b (figure 11.5), or a spiny band without crocodile markings, as on Borgia 33 (figure 11.8). A A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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Figure 11.8. Codex Borgia 33 showing animals in a scene associated with the festival Tlacaxipehualiztli. (Restoration by Ian Breheny, modified after a photographic facsimile by Fondo de Cultura Económica, Anders, Jansen, and Reyes García 1993.)

detailed image of the earth-crocodile on Borgia 27 shows maize sprouting from its body, here again depicted with latticed skin and spines, a bloody brow, and a row of spike-like teeth in the upper jaw (Milbrath 2013, fig. 1.5). In place of a flint knife, its snout has a long red feather and its head is curiously portrayed with ears. Another earth-crocodile has bloodletting implements on his snout, and its raised jaw frames a stream of water (Borgia 22b). The open jaws of the crocodile symbolize an entry to the underworld in a number of Borgia Group images. This seems closely connected with the Mesoamerican belief that the gaping maw of the crocodilian earth is both a place of death and a place of rebirth, representing the tellurian vagina or vagina dentata (Báez-Jorge 2008, 213–224, 348). A unique image of the earth-crocodile on Borgia 39–40 has spiked teeth lining its jaws, which are spread wide open to form a portal for two descending gods (Milbrath 2013, fig. 3.3). The earth-crocodile’s body, latticed and framed by spikes, wraps entirely around a scene with bloody solar disks. This scene symbolizes a total solar eclipse and portrays the sun in the darkness of the underworld (Milbrath 2013, 42–45, 123n17, plate 12). On Borgia 53a a human victim falls into the open jaws of the crocodilian earth-monster, here represented with hooked fangs that resemble serpent dentition, similar to the fire serpents on Borgia 46 and the feathered serpent on Borgia 52b (figures 11.4–11.6). On Borgia 19b a skeletal Venus god is devoured by the crocodile’s gaping jaws, again shown with hooked fangs that are more commonly depicted on snakes (Borgia 55a). 308

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In the Codex Borgia crocodiles also embody features of landscape and even vegetation. On Borgia 14 a crocodilian upper jaw with hooked fangs forms a cave-like temple. Another scene on Borgia 14 shows a crocodile head with open jaws that form the roots of a flowering tree, somewhat similar to the image on Borgia 51a (figure 11.3). Crocodilian imagery seems most strongly linked with the earth in the Codex Borgia, but Aztec legends suggest some celestial associations, which are also shared by Tonacatecuhtli in his role as the patron of the trecena 1 Crocodile. A text in Codex Vaticanus A (12v) reports that the creator god, Tonacatecuhtli (“Our Flesh [Maize] Lord”), was there when the waters of heaven were separated from the waters of earth (Seler 1963, 1:65–67).28 On Borgia 9b Tonacatecuhtli is the patron of the day sign Crocodile, and he appears with a married couple who represent the first humans to procreate. Presumably, Tonacatecuhtli is the patron of the Crocodile day sign because he was there when the earth and sky were first separated. Several creation accounts tell how the world was destroyed by flood at the end of the “Fourth Sun”; Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl transformed themselves into giant trees to raise the sky, and they killed a giant crocodilian called Tlaltecuhtli to create the earth (Miller and Taube 1993, 70). In the Histoyre du Mechique these two gods looked down from heaven and saw Tlaltecuhtli swimming in the primeval waters; they transformed themselves into serpents and split the monster in two, and they carried the upper half up to the sky and the lower half became the earth (Garibay 1973, 32, 104–106; Miller and Taube 1993, 167; Nicholson 1971, 400). The Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas says that earth was made from a giant fish, called Cipactli, which was like a caiman (in Garibay 1973, 25). This crocodilian creation event may be represented in a late Postclassic Maya mural at Mayapan, which depicts a bound crocodile in a primordial sea, floating alongside a queen triggerfish (Balistes vetula), a speared shark, and the Maya god of the feathered serpent, here depicted as the Chicchan serpent (figure 11.9; Milbrath et al. 2017, 200). The bound crocodile in the “Fisherman” mural (Q-95) has been speared by Quetzalcoatl, a Venus god best known from central Mexican sources (Houston et al. 2006, 89, 91; Masson and Peraza 2007; Masson and Peraza 2014, 95–98; Milbrath et al. 2017, 204–205). Marilyn Masson and Carlos Peraza (2014, 95) link the Mayapan mural to the legend of the Fifth Sun, wherein Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca transformed themselves into serpents and killed Tlaltecuhtli at a time when the earth was covered in water. David Stuart (2005, 68, 178–179) suggests that in this mural Quetzalcoatl may be the counterpart of a Palenque deity (G1), who A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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Figure 11.9. “Fisherman” mural, Structure Q-95, Mayapan, with a mythological scene showing a bound crocodile and Quetzalcoatl. Painting by Barbara Escamilla, courtesy Carlos Peraza Lope, INAH.

decapitated the “Starry Deer Crocodile,” a deity representing the Milky Way in a primordial creation event depicted in mythological texts at Palenque. He also relates the mural to Aztec myths about the destruction of Tlaltecuhtli and creation of the earth and sky from his dismembered body after the great flood (see also Rice 2020:241; Vail and Hernández 2013, 53). The Mayapan mural clearly reflects central Mexican influence, but it also incorporates Maya imagery, for the bound crocodile references the Maya Katun cycle, like that represented on Mayapan Stela 1 (Milbrath et al. 2017, 200–204, 205n6, figs. 11.10, 11.11). Postclassic Katun rituals depicted on Paris Codex 2–11 also show the bound crocodile on a throne. Maya Katun rituals helped reestablish world order at the end of the Katun period (approximately twenty years), and related ceremonies reenacting creation of the world survive today in New Year rituals in traditional Maya communities (Milbrath et al. 2017, 202). The speared fish and crocodile in the Mayapan mural recall the sacrifice of these same creatures in the year-end ceremonies on Borgia 51b, where both are decapitated beneath the tree of sacrifice in the west (figure 11.3). Like the animal sacrifice at year-end in the Codex Borgia’s directional almanac, the bound crocodile in the Katun rituals references calendar ceremonies designed to renew the world order at the end of the Katun period. These 310

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calendar ceremonies involved imagery of the crocodile, a creature who plays a central role as the first day sign and the foundation of the earth itself. Mythological links are not evident in Sahagún’s (1950–1982, 11:67) natural history volume, for the Florentine Codex focuses instead on animal behavior, and the text referencing the crocodile notes that the acuetzpalin lives only in the rivers and swallows things whole, and it “attacks people with its breath.” Charles Dibble and Arthur Anderson identified it as Crocodylus acutus (American crocodile) or C. moreletti (Morelet’s crocodile), and they note that the acipaquitli, pictured as a swordfish in the Florentine Codex, is actually a corruption of the term cipactli, referencing another Crocodylus species (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:67n2, plate 229). The overlapping names of the crocodile and swordfish suggest another reason why the day sign Crocodile has a flint knife on its snout. Another visual metaphor is suggested by the fact that the central Mexican name for the crocodile, acuetzpalin, literally means “water lizard” (Seler 1990–2000, 1:85, 5:273, 288). Day Sign Lizard. The fourth day sign, Lizard (Cuetzpalin), is almost always painted half blue and half red in the Codex Borgia. The only images of lizards in the Codex Borgia are representations of the day sign Lizard (figure 11.3). Other manuscripts in the Borgia Group show lizards in imagery related to sexual transgressions such as adultery, and generally the lizard is linked with phallic imagery and the lustful coyote god, Huehuecoyotl (“Old Coyote”), who is the patron of the day sign Lizard (table 11.1; Olivier 2003, 120–121; Seler 1963, 1:76–78, fig.  290; 1990–2000, 5:273, figs.  771, 772). On Borgia 10b, the patron of the day sign Lizard is the coyote god, Huehuecoyotl, here depicted with a prominent penis, sharp fangs, and claws. He devours snakes and blood and holds a naked man in his paws, perhaps as a symbol of sexual misdeeds. A sexual metaphor is apparent on Codex Vaticanus B 96, where the corporeal almanac depicts a coyote with the day sign Lizard on its penis, and on Borgia 53a the corporeal almanac places the day sign Lizard over the penis of a deer (figure 11.5; Boone 2007, plate 5). Linking the penis and the lizard has a natural basis, for the male lizard attracts its mate by puffing up its throat to display its red color, thus suggesting the image of an erect penis. Other traits associated with lizards are evident in Aztec horoscopes, for people born on the day 1 Lizard would be agile and vigorous with a robust body (Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:83). These characteristics are certainly lizard-like, and perhaps the lizard’s robust body is related to its ability to grow a new tail. The bicolor aspect of the Codex Borgia images of lizards may symbolize their ability to change color, a trait noted by Elizabeth Benson (1997, 102) in her study of Precolumbian animal imagery. She also pointed out that iguanas A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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and other lizards share some behavior traits: stretching out on tree limbs and inhabiting burrows and crevices, with some living near the edge of the sea. The generic term for lizards in Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:61–63), cuetzpali, is also part of the Nahuatl name for an iguana, indicating an overlap based on similar appearance. Seler (1963, 1:13, 76) even proposed that the model for the day sign Lizard was actually the iguana, but the spiny back of the iguana is not represented in the day sign, and the coloration of the Borgia day sign is more like that of a lizard. Day Sign Serpent. The day sign Serpent (Coatl), the fifth day sign among the twenty, typically represents a snake with a yellow underside and a golden brown body that is marked with circles alternating with parallel lines, which apparently symbolize snakeskin markings or scales (figure 11.3). On Borgia 51a the snake is stretched out, but more often the snake representing the day sign Serpent is depicted with undulating loops or a coiled or knotted body (Borgia 1–8, 21, 74). Front fangs and a rattle tail are commonly represented on the day sign, and sometimes the snake has a bifurcated (forked) tongue, as on Borgia 14. The patron of the day sign Serpent is the water goddess, Chalchiuhtlicue, a metaphorical connection that suggests the movement of water was compared to slithering snakes (table 11.1; Seler 1963, 1:80). The snake pictured in the Borgia day sign resembles the tecutlacoçauhqui, a spotted yellow rattler described in the Florentine Codex. Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:75–76, plates 245–247) noted that when it sees prey, it coils, rattles, raises its head, and issues “something like a rainbow from its mouth,” making its prey swoon just before the snake strikes. This is one of a number of rattlesnakes described and illustrated in the Florentine Codex, most having been identified by Dibble and Anderson as Crotalus species (see also Dupey García and Olivier 2014). The day sign Serpent in the Codex Borgia sometimes displays feathers, which suggested to Seler (1990–2000, 5:297) that this day sign was linked with Quetzalcoatl, the “quetzal-serpent.” When feathers appear on the day sign in the Codex Borgia, they are found only on the head or tail end rather than on the serpent body, and they are golden rather than green, a color shift that is also apparent in Borgia images of the quetzal (see note 21). Seler seems to be correct that the most likely model for the day sign Serpent is a deified rattler symbolizing Quetzalcoatl, a well-known avatar of Venus. Images of the quetzal-serpent in the Codex Borgia appear in very intriguing contexts. In the trecena series Borgia 67a pictures a man being devoured by the quetzal-serpent, here depicted with curled feathers along its back, a rattle tail, reptile paws with bird talons, hooked fangs, and twin feather 312

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Figure 11.10. Mayapan mural, Structure Q-80, showing five serpent temples. Drawing by Timothy Pugh.

plumes on its elongated snout. This imagery overlaps to varying degrees with a number of other Venus serpents in the Borgia. The front paws with bird talons on Borgia 67a are like the feathered serpent on Borgia 11a, and its hooked fangs are also seen on the plumed serpent symbolizing the south on Borgia 52b (figure 11.4). On Borgia 11a and 52b, the feathered snakes have stars on the body, and stars also appear on another Venus serpent depicted with front paws that bear bird talons, and the peaked cap of Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl (lower right Borgia 40).29 An almanac on Borgia 72 depicts four snakes with front paws bearing talons, and they have feathers on their heads and rattle tails. Each snake symbolizes a different cardinal direction, and each has a different body. Curled feathers identify feathered serpents in the east and west. The one representing the south (underworld?) has a segmented body like a centipede (cf. Borgia 47b). Their paws with bird talons suggest that the feathered serpent is sometimes a Composite Creature, like the ones on the Venus platform at Chichen Itza (see chapter 3, this volume). All four have feathers on their heads that seem to emerge from a bowl, suggesting another comparison with Chichen’s Composite Creature, who is similarly depicted with hooked serpent teeth. Hooked fangs also appear on four serpent heads represented in a late Postclassic mural on Structure Q-80 at Mayapan (figure 11.10). These have been identified as Quetzalcoatl-Kukulcan, based on the serpent dentition and comparison with Mixteca-Puebla representations of Quetzalcoatl’s temple (Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 26–27, fig. 23; Milbrath et al. 2017, 192, 198–200, fig.  11.4). Although the mural represents only the serpent heads, they have beaded nose rods like reliefs representing feathered serpents with rattle tails at Chichen Itza (Milbrath 1999, figs. 5.5d, 5.5e). A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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In the Mayapan mural the serpent heads are positioned in between five temples, and their location at the base of the temples suggests that they represent serpent balustrades. This evokes a link with five serpent temples in the core area of Mayapan, which have been interpreted as a cosmic diagram (Pugh 2001, 254, fig. 6). All five serpent temples originally had serpent columns with rattle tails on top (Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 16; Milbrath and Peraza 2009, 587, 595–597). The central and largest temple, the Castillo (Q-162), has serpent balustrades and serpent columns like the Castillo at Chichen Itza (Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 27, fig.  23). These five serpent temples depict the archetypal feathered serpent, and they form a cosmic diagram that symbolizes the “fiveness” of Venus (Milbrath 1999, 159; Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 26–27; Milbrath et al. 2017, 198–200). The mythological quetzal serpent even made its way into the natural history volume of the Florentine Codex. As Benson (1997, 113) pointed out, Book 11 depicts more snakes than any other animal, and in the midst of recognizable snake species, it describes the quetzalcoatl. This is said to be a venomous rattlesnake with flesh (scales) that looks like precious quetzal feathers, being green with black coloration at the base, and “when it flies or descends, a great wind blows. Wherever it goes, it flies” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:85, plates 276, 277). This “great wind” evokes a direct link with the feathered serpent as the wind god Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl. His association with wind has a mythological foundation, for after the sun emerged from the fire of creation, Ehecatl was called to set the sun in motion using the wind created by his forceful breath (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:8). Day Sign Deer. The next animal day sign, Deer (Mazatl), is typically represented in the Codex Borgia by the head of a golden brown deer with a white chin, almond-shaped eyes, and square teeth, as pictured in the skyband on Borgia 52a (figure 11.4). Antlers are rare in Borgia representations of the day sign, but they do appear in the day sign on Borgia 24. Other images suggest that the deer in the day sign is male. Borgia 53a features a buck with antlers and a prominent penis in a corporeal almanac displaying all twenty day signs (figure 11.5). The cloven hooves are very pointed, as are the “dew claws,” which are represented as unnaturally large and acutely angled. Similar hooves are also represented in full-figure images of the day sign Deer (Borgia 19–20). On Borgia 52a, the upper section of the directional almanac, the Death God kills a buck that has antlers (figure 11.4). This could symbolize a seasonal scene, for bucks display antlers during mating season, and they shed their antlers in spring. Two bucks in a hunting almanac on Borgia 22a seem to have been killed after they shed their antlers in the spring. The brown buck 314

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is shown dying with its tongue protruding. The second buck, its eyes closed in death, has been transformed into a white deer god who wears adornments that include a feathered headdress, a jeweled collar, and solar rays as earrings. A scroll issuing from its mouth, described as white foam by Seler (1963, 1:224), may be another sign of its divinity. Deer hunting itself is deemed a sacred activity among the Maya today, accompanied by ritual activities. As noted by Linda Brown and Kitty Emery (2008, 319), usually the bones of hunted wild animals are returned to the ritual shrine, but at Santiago Atitlán “deer skins and crania are often returned to the Cofradía San Juan, a shrine of the guardian of the animals located within the village, for use in the deer jaguar dance.” The white deer had high status in Aztec thought, and the Florentine Codex says that the white deer (iztac mazatl) is very rare and considered to be the ruler of the deer (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:15, plate 30). A Nahua myth recorded by ethnographers identifies the white deer as the grandfather of the twins who were transformed into the sun and moon (Olivier 2015, 143, 174). On Borgia 33 a white deer deity carries the sun across the sky in a scene representing Tlacaxipehualiztli, a festival in late March that honored Xipe Totec (figure 11.8; Milbrath 2013, 26). This page features a fire serpent in the foreground to symbolize the dry season (Milbrath 2013, 30, 83, 98, 118n28). The solar deer on Borgia 33 lacks antlers, which may be part of the seasonal metaphor, for by March the deer have shed their antlers as the dry season is coming to a close. The image of the deer carrying the sun suggests comparison with Maya ethnographic accounts that say a celestial deer carries the sun swiftly across the sky during the dry season, when the days are short during wintertime, whereas the slow-moving peccary carries the sun during the long summer days (Looper 2019, 161–163; Milbrath 1999, 22; 2013, 81). Sahagún (1950–1982, 4:20) emphasized the deer’s fearful nature, no doubt the result of its being a prime target for hunters. Aztec metaphors compared the fugitive to a deer, running fast and always pursued (Berdan 1994, 154). The white-tailed deer, Odocoileus virginianus mexicanus, is one of several deer taxa known in Mesoamerica, but apparently it is the most adaptable to interacting with humans and therefore most often hunted (Olivier 2015, 143). The forest deer (mazatl) described by Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:15n1, plates 28–29) is the white-tailed deer native to central Mexico. This is the deer typically portrayed in the Codex Borgia. Day Sign Rabbit. Typically the day sign Rabbit (Tochtli) in the Codex Borgia is a golden brown rabbit head with long ears, prominent front teeth overlapping the lower jaw, and eyes in the form of stars with concentric circles, colored half red and half white, like the day sign pictured under the Death A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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God on Borgia 52a (figure 11.4). Occasionally the day sign Rabbit is a full figure with mottled gray fur, posed either running or seated on its haunches (Borgia 18, 20). A similar rabbit in a crescent lunar symbol represents the lunar rabbit (figures 11.7, 11.8; Borgia 10, 33, 55, 71). And, as noted previously, Borgia 52b depicts an eagle attacking a rabbit held in the jaws of the feathered serpent, a scene that symbolizes a lunar eclipse (figure 11.4). The rabbit was a symbol of an industrious character but also of excess and drunkenness (Berdan 1994, 156). Esoteric symbolism is evident in the term “400 rabbits,” which refers to octli, or pulque, in the Florentine Codex (Quiñones Keber 1995, 177; Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:15–17). Benson (1997, 43) pointed out that this association may come from the fact that rabbits burrow around the roots of maguey, which is tapped for aguamiel to make pulque. There may also be a connection with the lunar rabbit, because observations of the lunar phases determined when maguey is tapped for aguamiel. It seems quite natural that the goddess of maguey was the supernatural patron of the day sign Rabbit (table 11.1). Among the rabbits described by Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:13n2, plate 23), the citli is gray, has long legs, and was said to be capable of running fast like the wind. It was identified by Dibble and Anderson as a hare or jackrabbit (Lepus flavigularis), whereas the small rabbit called tochin or tochtli was tentatively identified as the cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus). The text notes that these small rabbits bear their young in burrows and are tasty to eat. The rabbit associated with the moon is called tochton in the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:43), but the speedy hare (citli) also has attributes that link it with the moon (Graulich 1997, 133). Day Sign Dog. In the Codex Borgia the day sign Dog (Itzcuintli) usually is portrayed by a dog’s head, colored dark gray with a white chin and a black patch around the eye, a scroll-shaped nose at the end of an elongated snout, and long front fangs that overlap the lower jaw. Usually the dog in the day sign has almond-shaped ears at the top of the head, as on the spotted dog representing a full-figure version of the day sign Dog on Borgia 13b and the day sign Dog on Borgia 52a (figure 11.4, top row). Sometimes the ears are squared off with ragged tips (Codex Borgia 30), and a ragged ear alone can represent the day sign Dog in the Codex Fejérváry-Mayer and Codex Laud, two related Borgia Group codices (Domenici and Nielsen 2018, fig. 11). The patron of the day sign Dog is the Death God, who is accompanied by an image of the earth-crocodile devouring a funerary bundle on Borgia 13b (table 11.1). It seems most appropriate that Mictlantecuhtli (“Death Lord”) is the patron of the day sign Dog, because dogs dig for bones and thus were 316

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naturally associated with the underworld. This may also explain why the dog god, Xolotl, sometimes replaces Quetzalcoatl in the myth about retrieving the bones of mankind from the underworld at the end of a previous world age (Graulich 1997, 109–110). The canine god, Xolotl, patron of the trecena 1 Vulture, is depicted with both ragged dog ears and human ears that bear conch shell earrings (epicololli, Borgia 65a). These earrings are an adornment he shares with his “twin,” Quetzalcoatl (Borgia 38, 43). Xolotl is paired with Quetzalcoatl in mythology, and many scholars follow Seler (1990–2000, 4:206) in linking him with the evening star aspect of Venus. Nonetheless, extensive study of his role in the narrative on Borgia 29–46 indicates that Xolotl represents Mercury, a planet seen as the twin of Venus because it also has morning star and evening star phases that alternate with periods of invisibility during conjunction, a pattern that is shared only with Venus (Milbrath 2013, 16, 73, 94). These periods of invisibility were visualized as trips to the underworld, as in the myth describing Quetzalcoatl’s trip to the underworld during inferior conjunction in the Anales de Cuauhtitlan (in Bierhorst 1992, 36; Milbrath 2013, 16, 77). In the Florentine Codex Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:15–16) distinguished dogs according to their different sizes, colors, and fur texture, and he noted that certain domesticated dogs (xoloitzcuintli) were made hairless by applying turpentine to their fur when they were puppies, and these hairless dogs may have been cooked as meat. Dogs represented a source of protein early on, as among the Olmecs and the Maya in formative times (Wing 1981, 27). Dogs were also considered to be faithful companions. Sahagún (1950–1982, 4:44) recounts that in the multiyear journey the dead made through the underworld, they had to cross a river, and when a dog on the other side recognized its master, it would throw itself in the water to carry its master across. A sure indication of the dog’s importance in Aztec cosmology was the fact that a reddish-colored dog was killed to accompany the deceased in order to serve as a guide across the gorges and waterways on route to Mictlan (Lopéz Luján 1994, 234–235). Day Sign Monkey. The day sign Monkey (Ozomatli), the next in the series, typically depicts a monkey head in profile, with a prognathous face that is colored yellow or red and framed by golden brown fur, a human-like nose, and a row of long front fangs overlapping the lower jaw, as seen in the two examples in the upper almanac on Borgia 53a (figure 11.5). Usually the monkey has scroll-shaped ears with earrings, sometimes represented as a teardropshaped oyohualli. The day sign represents either the spider monkey (Ateles geoffroyi) or howler monkey (Alouatta palliata), the only monkeys known to A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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inhabit Mesoamerica (but see Baker 1992). The day sign Monkey invariably has a tuft of fur on top of the head, which Seler (1990–2000, 5:170) suggested is related to the spider monkey. The full-figure day sign on Codex Borgia 49b has human-like hands and feet, striped face paint, an erect tail, and intertwined bands with jade symbols projecting from the mouth to symbolize a simian call (figure 11.1). The tail carried erect on 49b seems to evoke the spider monkey, but vocalization symbols would also be appropriate for the howler monkey, notable for its loud calls.30 The trecena 1 Monkey is associated with horoscopes linked to monkey-like qualities. Those born during this period would be jesters or a singer, a dancer, an artist, or more specifically a scribe (Berdan 1994, 156; Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:81–82). The patron of the day sign Monkey was Xochipilli (“flower prince”), a solar deity of music, arts, and dance (Olivier 2003, 214). The monkey’s agility, prehensile “hands,” and ability to dance around in an erect posture seem to link the monkey with realms under the control of Xochipilli, a god who is prominent in the calendar and in solar mythology (Milbrath 2013, 51, 67, 75, 88). A connection with Xochipilli may also be evident on a late Postclassic Maya censer representing a monkey scribe, excavated at Mayapan in a late context associated with central Mexican influence at the site (figure 11.11a; Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 26–29; Milbrath and Peraza 2003b). The monkey scribe’s flowered headdress evokes a link with Xochipilli, as does the connection with the art of writing. His prognathous jaw is also a trait of monkey scribes representing howler monkeys in Classic Maya art (Coe 1978). The Mayapan censer figure clearly represents a howler monkey (Milbrath and Peraza 2003b, figs. 2, 3A).31 The monkey scribe holds his brush aloft, and numbers are painted on scrolls attached to his body. There is also an apparent connection with serpent imagery of Quetzalcoatl, for the scribe’s hand emerges from the jaws of a bluegreen serpent (figure 11.11b). In Aztec art the monkey sometimes appears as an avatar of Quetzalcoatl, who was said to be the inventor of writing (Graulich 1997, fig. 14; Olivier 2003, 275). In Book 11 Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:14, plates 26–27) describes the monkey (ozomatli) as “a forest-dweller in Anahuac  .  .  . [which] has human hands, human feet, nails, real nails [and . . .] sits like a man.” He says they are noisy and hurl sticks and stones at people, and like humans they will sit by a fire to warm themselves. The ozomatli is identified by Dibble and Anderson as either Alouatta palliata Mexicana (mantled howler or Mexican howler) or Ateles neglectus (spider monkey), but they also suggest alternate identifications that include Alouatta villosa mexicana and the Mexican spider monkey known as Ateles geoffroyi or Ateles vellerosus (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:14n6). 318

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Figure 11.11a. Monkey Scribe, Structure Q-58, Mayapan. Photograph by Bradley Russell, courtesy Carlos Peraza Lope, INAH. Figure 11.11b. Detail of Mayapan Monkey Scribe showing serpent-shaped arm. Photograph by Susan Milbrath, courtesy Carlos Peraza Lope, INAH.

Day Sign Jaguar. The next animal day sign, Jaguar (Ocelotl), is typically represented by a jaguar head with a golden coat that has circular black markings, a white chin, and prominent fangs, as seen in the day sign just beneath Xipe Totec on Borgia 49a (figure 11.1, upper row). In the day patron almanac, the jaguar mouth has two golden streamers to evoke the sound of a jaguar roaring (Borgia 12a). Jaguars are also shown in the role of sacrificial victims, as on Borgia 50b (figure 11.2). A large flint knife pierces the chest of a jaguar in a scene that depicts the jaguar as a sacrificial victim suspended from a starry-sky band on Borgia 24. In the Templo Mayor offerings a jaguar was buried with a large jade ball in its mouth, a sign of its importance as a sacrificial offering (Saunders 1989, 151–152). One of the Nine Lords of the Night, Tepeyollotl, is represented as a jaguar with knives along his back in his role as patron of the day sign House (Borgia 10b, see table 11.1). Full-figure images of the day sign Jaguar also have a row of flint knives on the back, signifying that it is a fearsome killer (Borgia 12a, 21b).

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The patron of the day sign Jaguar is the moon goddess, Tlazolteotl, depicted on Borgia 12a with a crescent moon on her skirt and an owl symbolizing the night. Her lunar symbolism naturally associates her with jaguars, which are most active at night. As patron of the trecena 1 Deer on Borgia 63b, Tepeyollotl is a jaguar with stars along his back, here accompanied by Tlazolteotl. This imagery relates to Tepeyollotl’s role as a lunar god, for the jaguar as a nocturnal hunter has a natural connection with the moon (Milbrath 2013, 62–63). As noted previously, the jaguar is directly linked with the moon in the legendary accounts of the creation of the sun and moon at Teotihuacan. The fiercest Aztec warriors were jaguar and eagle knights. Depictions of jaguars and eagles sometimes also appear on objects associated with blood sacrifice, as seen in a jaguar cuauhxicalli discovered in Mexico City in 1901 and a sacrificial knife with an eagle warrior now in the collection of the British Museum (Saunders 1989, 150–154). The jaguar was “one of the fierce beasts,” and men born in the trecena 1 Jaguar would die in war unless they were vigilant, while women born under this sign were compared to a “wild beast” (Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:5–6). In Aztec horoscopes the day 1 Jaguar leads off a trecena that was associated with too much fierceness and a lack of moderation, despite the honor accorded warriors called jaguar knights (Berdan 1994, 156). Dibble and Anderson identified the fearsome jaguar (ocelutl) in the Florentine Codex as Pantera onca, formerly Felis onca (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:1n2). The Nahuatl text notes that the jaguar can see well in the dark and hunt by night, hissing before attacking its prey, and its roar is compared to a trumpet blowing (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:1–2). The jaguar is described as cautious, wise, proud, noble, and a forest dweller who also inhabited crags and water. This affinity for water is notable because the jaguar is a good swimmer, hunting along waterways and from trees overhanging water (Benson 1997, 46). Day Sign Eagle. In the Codex Borgia the day sign Eagle (Cuauhtli) depicts this raptor with a yellow beak, a ruffled feather crest, and oblong eyes, as seen in the day sign on Borgia 49a (figure 11.1, upper row). The eagles depicted in full-figure day signs on Borgia 11a and 19a have gray and white bands on the body and head feathers; wing feathers are spread apart to show individual feathers.32 In these images the predatory nature of the eagle is indicated by the array of flint knives, as in the Volatile series (figure 11.7). Flint knives also signify this bird’s aggressive nature in the image of the eagle perched on the “tree” of the north on Borgia 50b (figure 11.2). Here the eagle has a forked serpent tongue (see also Borgia 11a), adding another trait associated with a top predator. In contrast, on Borgia 50b when the eagle is represented as decapitated victim, it lacks the array of knives, indicating it has lost its fierce power. 320

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Knives are also associated with Aztec offerings of sacrificed eagles. The Templo Mayor at Tenochtitlan contained a golden eagle skeleton with thirteen sacrificial knives, and another was buried with forty knives (López Luján 2005, 251, 275). Eagles are most numerous among the sacrificial offerings of animals wearing deity costumes found buried in Tenochtitlan’s Templo Mayor (see chapter 10, this volume). In the directional almanac the tree of sacrifice on Borgia 49b has an eagle head on a bowl that holds bloody hearts, a representation of the “eagle vessel” called cuauhxicalli in Nahuatl, used to offer human hearts to the sun (figure 11.1). Aztec accounts describe the important role the cuauhxicalli played during the Panquetzaliztli ceremony (Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:48–49, 148). Two diving eagles with stone vessels attached to their bodies symbolize the cuauhxicalli in the Panquetzaliztli festival on Codex Borgia 46 (figure 11.6; Milbrath 2013, 30, Plate 18; Schwaller 2019, 45–46). Like the Borgia directional almanac, the seasonal narrative on Borgia 29–46 associates the eagle with heart sacrifice and the solar symbolism of the cuauhxicalli. A diving eagle on Codex Borgia 33 may also relate to the cuauhxicalli used to hold heart offerings made to the sun in Xipe Totec’s festival (figure 11.8, lower right; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:53). The diving eagle is also an embodiment of the Nahuatl word cuautemoc or “descending eagle,” one of the metaphorical names for the setting sun (Bierhorst 1985, 100; Hull and Fergus 2009, 93). Among the Aztecs, the rising sun was linked with the eagle, making this bird an embodiment of the sun (López Luján and Anda Rogel 2019, 19). The morning sun was called the “Eagle Ascender,” whereas the evening sun was called the “Eagle Descender” (Hull and Fergus 2009, 93). Solar symbolism may be why golden eagles were buried with effigies of the solar god Xochipilli in the Red Temple of the Aztec Templo Mayor (López Luján 2005, 302, 318–319). A negative aspect of eagle symbolism is evident in the horoscopes associated with trecena 1 Eagle, considered to be an evil day sign. It was thought that people born on this day would be hostile and merciless, boastful and proud, and the women born on this day were said to be especially abusive, tearing others apart and shredding their clothes (Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:107–109). This seems to be linked with observations of eagle behavior, embodying their proud appearance but also their aggressive nature, seen when ripping their food apart and stealing food from other birds. Although a golden eagle represents the day sign Eagle in colonial-period Aztec codices, in the Codex Borgia the harpy eagle may be depicted instead (Sharpe 2014). Harpy eagles are very rare but were once more common, and they seem to be a major icon as far back as Olmec times (Hull and Fergus A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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2009, 84; Miller and Taube 1993, 82). They currently inhabit lowland forested areas south and east of central Mexico, in Veracruz, Chiapas, and south to Belize and Petén, Guatemala (Howell and Webb 1995, 207–208). In contrast, the golden eagle (Aquila chrysaetos) occupies grassland habitats and has a range farther north of central Mexico. This is clearly the eagle represented in Aztec art, although these birds are not currently found as far south as central Mexico (Hull and Fergus 2009, 85; Howell and Webb 1995, 205–206). In his natural history volume Sahagún (1950–1982, 11:40n1) used a generic term for eagle, quautli (an alternative spelling of cuautli), identified as Aquila chrysaetos (golden eagle) by Dibble and Anderson, which is also the bird depicted in Aztec codices (Sharpe 2014, 327–328). The Florentine Codex notes that the eagle is fearless, and its eyes are like coals and can look directly into the sun.33 The eagle’s ability to fly up toward the sun, without damage to its eyes, may account for the eagle’s solar symbolism. Day Sign Vulture. The day sign Vulture (Cozcacuauhtli), the last of the animal day signs, is depicted in the Codex Borgia by a vulture head with tufts of feathers on the brow and back of the head and with human-like ears with earrings. A red semicircle around the eyes and brow portrays the bald head typical of vultures (figure 11.1, upper row). Full-figure Vulture day signs also show white feathers covering the legs and chest, and the wing feathers are spread apart to show individual feathers with curved tips (Codex Borgia 18a, 19b, 20a). The vulture represented in the Codex Borgia seems to be the king vulture (Sarcoramphus papa). This is the largest vulture, characterized by showy coloration, with a mostly white body and a multicolored head (Benson 1997, 88). As noted previously, the patron of the trecena 1 Vulture is Xolotl, the dog god linked with the underworld, an association that may underscore the vulture’s link with death. Insight into the symbolism related to vultures may also be seen in the fact that the goddess Itzpapalotl (“Obsidian Butterfly”) is the patron of the day sign Vulture (table 11.1). Itzpapalotl has a macabre aspect that seems appropriate for the vulture, which eats only dead animals. Itzpapalotl’s association with nocturnal imagery suggests that she represents a “night butterfly,” in other words, a moth (Milbrath 2017). Itzpapalotl is depicted in the pose of Tlaltecuhtli in Aztec monumental sculpture, evoking Aztec images of the underworld (Seler 1990–2000, 3:246–247, fig. 23). As the day patron on Borgia 11a, she appears as a partially skeletal figure with star eyes, talons or claws, and cape-like wings with attached antennae, traits that are repeated in her image as patron of the trecena 1 House on Borgia 66a. In both patron series Itzpapalotl appears with a tree that is split apart with a crocodilian head at the base, which Seler (1963, 1:137, 2:218) interpreted 322

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as the split tree in the house of descent in the west, the ancestral paradise that the Aztecs called Tamoanchan. In some contexts the tree of Tamoanchan has been linked with the Milky Way as an axis mundi (Sisson 2012, 322). The king vulture, called Aztec cozcaquauhtli in the Florentine Codex, is described as a bird with a curved bill and curved wings like those of an eagle (Sahagún 1950–1982, 11:42n14, fig.  123). Seler (1990–2000, 1:130) noted that Molina translated cozcaquauhtli as “eagle with a red head,” a bird that he identified as the king vulture, noting that its bald head is a symbol of old age and long life. The bald head of the vulture and wrinkled skin around the eyes associate the vulture with aged features, attributes linked to horoscopes for those born in the trecena 1 Vulture (Berdan 1994, 156; Sahagún 1950–1982, 4:97).

CONCLUDING REMARKS

Scientific studies of animals document patterns of behavior that are important for interpreting central Mexican animal imagery, but more subtle metaphorical links between animal symbolism and animal behavior are apparent in central Mexican ethnohistorical sources and iconography. Visual imagery in the Codex Borgia is so detailed that some iconographic signifiers seem to point out behavioral traits. The roar of the jaguar is represented by vocalization streamers, and similar symbols are also used to evoke simian calls. The bloody brow of the crocodile designates it as a fearsome killer. Knives on the bodies of the crocodile, the jaguar, and the eagle signify they are powerful predators. Animal behavior recorded in the Florentine Codex helps confirm this visual symbolism. The Codex Borgia narrative on pages 29–46 depicts animals in contexts related to the seasonal cycle and specific celestial events. The earth-crocodile appears several times in the narrative, and it plays a most dramatic role on Borgia 39–40, where the crocodile encases the Sun God during a solar eclipse. The revered white deer carries the sun swiftly across the sky during the dry season in the Borgia narrative section (Borgia 33), and the fire serpent also repeatedly symbolizes the dry season (Borgia 33–34, 46). Numerology may also play a role in the symbolism represented by the birds on world trees in the directional almanac, for these birds all appear among the Volatiles, a set of thirteen flying creatures that symbolize numbers. The directional almanac associates different cardinal directions with different avian species, and possibly these directions refer to the geographical range of these birds. Animals featured in the directional almanac also relate to seasonal ceremonies, and this almanac shows many other intriguing links with rituals and calendrical cycles documented in Aztec calendars from the Valley of Mexico A N I M A L S Y M B O LI S M I N CA LEN DA R A L M A N AC S O F T H E CO D EX B O RG I A

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and neighboring Tlaxcala. Borgia 49b depicts Izcalli, a dry-season festival with the new fire drilled on the back of the fire serpent. Decapitated animals in the directional almanac also symbolize a great variety of animals sacrificed during the Izcalli festival. And it is most significant that the Calendar Round dates on Borgia 49b–52b correlate with the festival of Izcalli, the last veintena of the year. Scenes showing animal sacrifice in the Borgia directional almanac depict decapitated animals, such as the eagle, jaguar, and crocodile, all high-status sacrificial offerings like those found in archaeological contexts in the Templo Mayor. Different animals were sacrificed in accord with the rotation of the four yearbearers and cardinal directions. This format links concepts of time and space, like the Maya directional almanac on Dresden Codex 25–28 (Bricker and Bricker 2011, 120–137; Hernández 2004, 326–327; Milbrath 2023).34 As in the Borgia directional almanac, the Postclassic Maya almanac depicts different animal offerings and rituals associated with the rotation of yearbearers at year-end, when the world order was reestablished though ritual performance. Animal symbolism in the directional almanac may incorporate mythological elements, especially in the case of the eagle and jaguar as representatives of the sun and moon at the time of their creation and the crocodilian earth referenced in other creation accounts. The directional almanac represents the feathered serpent symbolizing Venus, a major figure in mythology as well as being the model for the day sign Serpent. Many other animals represented by day signs also appear in mythological accounts, and most of these are also featured in the directional almanac (only the lizard and dog are absent). The mythological constructs for animal imagery in the directional almanac also extend into the Maya area through contact with central Mexico, especially at the site of Mayapan. The “Fisherman” mural at Mayapan (Q-95) shows the central Mexican Venus god, Quetzalcoatl, with a bound crocodile that evokes mythological accounts of the creation of the earth. This mural depicts the bound crocodile with a speared shark, two animals that are sacrificed together in the directional almanac (Borgia 51b). Another Mayapan mural (Q-80) depicts five serpent temples that apparently represent five monumental feathered serpent temples at the site that form an architectural cosmogram. The Aztec patron god Xochipilli, the god of arts and letters, who plays an important role as a solar deity in mythological accounts, seems to be represented by Mayapan’s Monkey Scribe, which was found in one of the serpent temples (Q-58) and possibly served a role in reenacting mythological dramas. Animals were incorporated in Postclassic cosmology and rituals, and they shared the stage with humans in the Mesoamerican world view. The Codex Borgia directional almanac demonstrates that animals played a central role 324

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in the yearbearer ceremonies, not only as sacrificial offerings but also as deities interacting directly with anthropomorphic gods. The prominence of animal deities in the calendar and mythological accounts also attests to the high status accorded animals. Their exalted role in religion and ritual activity expresses an intimate connection between the animate world of nature and ancient Mesoamerican cosmology, a link that we are only now beginning to understand. Acknowledgments. I thank Victoria Bricker, Cecelia Klein, Petra Cunningham Smith, and Gabrielle Vail for reading and commenting on earlier drafts of this chapter.

NOTES

1. On the Puebla-Tlaxcala provenience of the Codex Borgia, see Boone (2007, 222–225, 227–228). The Codex Borgia was named for Cardinal Stefano Borgia, who acquired the codex in the eighteenth century from the Giustiniani family. Davide Domenici (2018, 2020) and Domenici and his colleagues (Domenici and Dupey 2021; Domenici and Laurencich 2014, 196–197) proposed that because the Codex Borgia was documented in inventories of the Giustiniani family by around 1600, it came from Mexico directly to Italy via the Dominican friar Domingo de  Betanzos, who acquired the Codex Borgia and two other related codices in the Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley. He made a trip from Mexico to Italy in 1532–1533, and because the convent where he resided while in Italy was connected to the Giustiniani family, that is how the codex passed to their collection. 2. Of the twenty day signs in the 260-day divination calendar, only four signs spaced at five-day intervals could name the year. The yearbearers are the same in the Aztec and Tlaxcalan calendars: Reed (acatl), Flint (tecpatl), House (calli), and Rabbit (tochtli). Each yearbearer was combined with a sequence of numbers from 1 to 13 to designate one of the 52 years in the cycle known as the xiuhmolpilli or “tying of the years,” a cycle similar to our century but only half as long. The yearbearers in the lower almanac (Borgia 49b–52b) are linked with the upper almanac (Borgia 49a–52a) by calendrical sequences and yearbearer days that are repeated in the two almanacs (Boone 2007, 130; Milbrath 2020, 25–27). The day sign in the upper almanac may represent the five-day period at the year-end, called the nemontemi (Milbrath 2020). 3. Seler (1963, 2:85–103, plates 1–8) established that the directions east, north, west, and south in the trecena strips along the bottom of the pages represent the days leading off each trecena, meaning they would all bear the number 1. All the trecenas in the strips at the bottom of Borgia 49b–52b are organized in a 5 × 52-day pattern, the most

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common format for dividing the 260-day calendar, the one characterizing an in extenso 260-day calendar on Borgia 1–8. The 5 × 52-day arrangement can be used to calculate the year, for 260 + 52 + 52 = 364 days, just one day short of the solar year. In Maya codices a 5 × 52-day arrangement is also employed to calculate solar dates in the 52-year Calendar Round (Vail and Aveni 2004, 138–142). 4. The yearbearer dates on Borgia 49b–52b link 4 House with the east (Borgia 49b), 4 Rabbit with the north (Borgia 50b), 4 Reed with the west (Borgia 51b), and 4 Flint with the south (Borgia 52b). This is in accord with the directional pattern in the layout of the 4 × 65-day format (Milbrath 2020, table 3). In the central Mexican system the 4 × 65-day format was used to count the years in the 52-year cycle, but Venus calculations are also commensurate with a 4 × 65-day format, for 2 × 260 + 65 days = 585 days, a close approximation of the 584-day Venus cycle (Milbrath 2020). 5. Seler (1963, 2:100–103) interpreted notations recording the number 5 as the names of seated figures, identifying them as avatars of Xolotl-Nanahuatzin, Ahuiateotl, or the Macuiltonaleque (macuil means “five”). The Macuiltonaleque are identified with entirely different day names on Borgia 47–48 (Boone 2007, 130, figs. 68, 69). Paired with the years 4 House, 4 Rabbit, 4 Reed, and 4 Flint, the dates 5 Movement, 5 Wind, 5 Deer, and 5 Grass are now recognized as Calendar Round dates in the 52-year cycle (Boone 2007, 129–130; Hernández 2004; Hernández and Bricker 2004; Milbrath 2013, 35; Nowotny 2005, 251). 6. Among these dates, the 1484 date on Borgia 51b has a most noteworthy astronomical significance because it correlates with a full moon and Venus reappearing as the evening star (Milbrath 2013, table 3.1, Julian day no. 2,263,130). Astronomical events may play a role in the imagery and associated dates, but the most consistent pattern is the link with ceremonies performed at year-end during Izcalli. 7. Aztec accounts tell us that Izcalli featured an annual “new fire” ceremony, suggesting comparison with the fire-drilling scenes found on all four yearbearer pages (figure 11.1, scene 9; Milbrath 2013, 35; 2020; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:159–166). Tree imagery also relates to Izcalli (figure 11.1, scenes 3 and 8), for a tree amid the clouds is the “sign” of Izcalli in the calendar recorded by Friar Diego Durán (1971, 465–468, plate 55). He noted that trees were set up near places of sacrifice and along the streets during Izcalli to encourage early planting during February in the mountains, where rainstorms started earlier in the year. Animal sacrifices were also common during Izcalli (Nicholson 1971, table 4; Sahagún 1950–1982, 2:160), which suggests a link with the animal sacrifice on Borgia 49b-52b (figure 11.1, scene 3). 8. The 365-day year has eighteen veintenas of 20 days each, the last one followed by the five-day nemontemi, the so-called “useless” days at year-end. The year ended on the 365th day, the last day of the nemontemi. Alfonso Caso (1971) argued that the yearbearer naming the year was always the 360th day of the year, just prior to the nemontemi. This 326

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requires that Tititl be positioned as the last veintena of the year, despite Caso’s own evidence to the contrary. Izcalli is the last veintena in most central Mexican calendars documented by Caso (1967, table X), a position confirmed by other studies (Milbrath 2013, 10; Nicholson 1971, table 4). If the yearbearer always corresponded to the end of Tititl, it would be the 340th day of the year in the Aztec calendar. Using the widely accepted Caso (1971) correlation for the Aztec calendar and projecting back from the years 1519–1520, without any intercalation for leap year, the yearbearer 4 Flint in table 11.2 is the 340th day of the year. If the veintena festival actually began a half day before the tonalpohualli “day,” the yearbearer fell on the 341st day, which makes it the first day of Izcalli (Milbrath 2013, 10–12). The Relaciones Geográficas introduces an added complication when it notes that in Tlaxcala the yearbearer began the year, meaning it would not fall in Tititl or Izcalli (Acuña 1984, 222, 226–228; Milbrath 2013, 113n14). 9. Since the veintenas were counted using the twenty day signs and numbers of the 260-day calendar, there were actually two occurrences of the numbered day sign used to name the year, but the second occurrence was the yearbearer in the Aztec system, as it was in the Borgia’s directional almanac. This makes the Borgia calendar closer to the Aztec system than the Tlaxcalan calendar, wherein the yearbearer was said to begin the year (see note 8). 10. For example, in the 4 Flint year represented on Borgia 52b, the animated day sign 4 Death (in bold and underlined in table 11.2) corresponds to December 3, 1496, exactly 52 days before the yearbearer 4 Flint on January 24, 1497. Counting from the yearbearer 4 Flint (in bold in table 11.2) to the 5 Grass date (in italics and bold in table 11.2 = February 7, 1497) recorded with the seated figure on Borgia 52b adds another 14 days. All together, these dates mark a period of 66 days (4 Death + 52 days = 4 Flint + 14 days = 5 Grass), but the interval between 4 Death and 5 Grass is 65 days, or one quarter of the tonalpohualli. 11. Twelve dots at the far left of each page are usually interpreted as the number of days that mark the interval between the day signs leading off the trecenas in a strip at the bottom of each page. These intervals are apparent when moving from page to page (1 Crocodile on Borgia 49b + 12 days in between = 1 Jaguar on Borgia 50b, etc.). These dots also count the number of years in between each of the four yearbearers shown (4 House on Borgia 49b + 12 years in between = 4 Rabbit on Borgia 50b). They may also represent a count of 12 days that leads from the date with the number 5 to the New Year, as in table 11.2 (5 Grass + 12 days = 4 Lizard, the day of the new year), as first noted in Milbrath 2013 and elaborated in a later publication (Milbrath 2020, 13, 23, 26). 12. Other Borgia Group directional almanacs all feature the quetzal as the bird marking the east. The cognate almanacs on Codex Fejérváry-Mayer 1 and Codex Vaticanus B 17–18 depict trecenas marking the cardinal directions with birds perched on trees, and even though all these birds are not the same as those on Codex Borgia

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49b–52b, the bird marking the east is clearly a quetzal (Boone 2007, 123, figs. 65, 73, table 9). 13. Codex Nuttall 76 shows the Mixtec fire serpent with a serpent head bearing a long, recurved snout, a segmented body, and a tail with knife and ray elements, like the fire serpent on Codex Borgia 49b (figure 11.1). Seler (1990–2000, 5:281, figs. 701–708) noted that elsewhere in the Codex Nuttall (pages 12, 19, 44, 50) the fire serpent’s counterpart is a turtle that bears a similar head and a segmented tail ending in a trapeze and ray year symbol, a clear counterpart for the fire serpent’s tail on Nuttall 76. The day patron and trecena almanacs on Borgia 13b and 69b both pair Xiuhtecuhtli with a scorpion, a creature known for its fiery sting, here represented with a tail resembling a solar ray and the central ray in the year sign on the tail of the fire serpent on Borgia 46. 14. A parallel is seen in the Maya Popol Vuh account, wherein 400 boys were killed by Zipacna (a crocodile) and transformed into the Pleiades (motz; Graulich 1997, 136; Milbrath 1999, 258). The Pleiades are pictured in the upper left of folio 282r in the Primeros Memoriales, and the text says that when the “Fire Sticks” (mamalhuaztli; Orion’s Belt) and the “Many of the Market” (miec yoan tiyanquiztli) reached zenith, the flutes were played, and around midnight when they were about to set, bloodletting with thorns took place (Sahagún 1997, 154–155nn7, 9). In this light, it is noteworthy that the Pleiades set together with Orion’s Belt around midnight during Izcalli (late January to early February, ca. 1500), and thus both were seen to be in a significant position at year-end. The Spanish text in the Florentine Codex does not identify the fire drill constellation and says only that they move near the Pleaides (las cabrillas), which is in the sign of Taurus. Dibble and Anderson (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:60) translate los mastelexos as Castor and Pollux, an identification that is most likely incorrect based on the more complete description in the Primeros Memoriales and Aveni’s (2001, fig. 10; 2019, 19) identification of the Fire Drill constellation as Orion’s Belt. 15. Sahagún’s (1950–1982, 7:66–67) Florentine Codex identified the Citlalcolotl as Ursa Major (“el carro”), but his earlier text in the Primeros Memoriales did not mention this identification, saying only that “it is there, it shines brightly” (Sahagún 1997, 156). And, as Jeanne Gillespie (chapter 9, this volume) demonstrates, the Aztecs may have imagined more than one scorpion constellation. The importance of Scorpio (Scorpius), the scorpion constellation on the ecliptic, is well attested in the Maya area where it is paired with Venus imagery in a number of contexts, and a similar pairing is suggested by the Mixtec murals at Mitla (Brittenham 2015, 105, figs. 151, 152; Milbrath 1999, 211; Rodríguez Torres 2002, 138, figs. 1b, 1c, 1d). The star-snouted fire serpent seems to represent a group of stars, and the most likely candidate is Scorpio, a constellation also known in the Maya zodiac (Milbrath 1999, 264–266; Stone and Zender 2011, 151). 16. During the Panquetzaliztli festival, Scorpio was beginning to emerge from conjunction with the sun, and its brightest star, Antares, which marks the “head” of the 328

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scorpion, was first seen on the eastern horizon at dawn on December 7, ca. 1500 (Aveni 2001, table 10), but the tail end of the scorpion, with its curved row of stars, gradually began to emerge from conjunction with the sun by the end of Panquetzaliztli. 17. Focusing on November meteor showers, Karl Taube (2000, 288–292, 325; 2020, 164) proposed that the Xiuhcoatl embodies a black caterpillar symbolizing a blazing meteor and the stars on its snout represent the Pleiades as a cluster of seven stars. This is erroneously based on the western constructs linking the Pleiades to seven stars (“the seven sisters”), whereas the Aztecs pictured many more stars in the Pleiades, which they called the “marketplace” (see note 14 and Aveni 2001, 33, fig. 10a). Taube also connected the Pleiades with meteor showers observed in November, suggesting a link with the Xiuhcoatl displayed during Panquetzaliztli, a time when the Pleiades also have their longest visibility. Nonetheless, the fire serpent is the alter ego of Xiuhtecuhtli, and his principal festival, Izcalli, corresponds to February in our calendar, which is not a month known for meteor showers. 18. The eighteen-page narrative on Borgia 29–46 was divided into 20-day periods, like the eighteen veintenas in the festival calendar. Although the narrative is not really a festival calendar, it depicts recognizable veintena festivals on pages that coordinate with important solar events. In addition to the winter solstice during Panquetzaliztli on Borgia 46, there are images of the spring equinox in Tlacaxipehualiztli on Borgia 33, the summer solstice on Borgia 37 in Etzalcualiztli, and the fall equinox on Borgia 42 (Milbrath 2013, plates 5, 9, 14, 18). 19. The new fire was bored at midnight on the tenth day of Izcalli (Sahagún 1950–1982, 7:33). At this time of night, Scorpio was still below the horizon, but the “fire drill” constellation known to represent Orion’s Belt was about to set and was just above the western horizon (see note 14). The fire drill constellation might then have been visualized as drilling the fire on the back of the fire serpent. 20. The animal attack scenes on Codex Vaticanus B 24–27 and Codex FejérváryMayer 41a–42a show parallels with the Codex Borgia (Boone 2007, fig. 74). Both Borgia Group codices represent the east with a bat grasping an anthropomorphic victim, as on Borgia 49b, followed by Mixcoatl attacking a jaguar in the north, like the scene on Borgia 50b. In the west, however, these two codices show a shark with a foot in its jaws in place of the crocodile devouring the leg of Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (Codex Borgia 51b). 21. A study of the Borgia Group colors indicates that green often appears to be golden brown in the Codex Borgia (Dupey García and Álvarez Icaza 2017, 228–230). Volatile number 12 on Borgia 71 represents a quetzal painted in a greenish tone (figure 11.7), like the quetzal on Codex Tudela 99r (table 11.4; Batalla 2002; Boone 2007, fig. 54), but the quetzals on Borgia 49b and 53b are brown rather than green.

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22. If the two birds on Borgia 49b and 53b are different species, a possible candidate for the bird of the east on Borgia 49b is the royal flycatcher (Onychorhynchus coronatus mexicanus; Howell and Webb 1995, 489, plate 39, no. 17). The male has a distinctive tuft of feathers that looks almost like an ear, a relatively short tail, and golden brown color like the bird on Borgia 49b, and its range is in southeast Mexico, like the quetzal. 23. Space constraints on Borgia 49b may have made the artist render the quetzal on the jeweled tree with a short tail, or, alternatively, two different artists painted the two quetzals on Borgia 49b and 53b. The directional almanacs in other codices of the Borgia Group all show quetzals in the east, but the context is different. These variations reflect the different origin points of the Borgia Group codices (Boone 2007, 213–233). For example, Codex Cospi 12–13 compresses the imagery, combining the birds with the temples (Aguilera 1988; Seler 1990–2000, 1:75–77, figs. 6–9; 1963, 2:89–90, figs. 80, 82). A quetzal appears with the Sun God in the temple of the east, a horned owl with Itztlacoliuhqui in the temple of the north, a second quetzal in the temple of the west with the Maize God, and another owl in the temple of the south with the Death God. 24. Three Aztec codices depict the Volatiles, but they do not show a uniform representation of the butterflies representing the number 7. The Codex Tudela butterfly has a segmented body, twin antennae, a curled proboscis, and yellow wings with circular designs on the upper half (Boone 2007, plate 3). The lower half of the wing has a shape that suggests the swallowtail butterfly, a species of butterfly that has circular designs on the upper wing edge, like the Tudela image. The Codex Borbonicus (3–20) trecena almanac shows the Volatiles with repeated images of a butterfly with a spiral proboscis, segmented body, and yellow wings that sometimes bear patterns, as on Borbonicus 5. A number of the Borbonicus butterfly images show the lower mouth parts extended into another spiral, creating the impression of a dual proboscis. The butterfly in the Aubin Tonalamatl Volatile series is the least naturalistic, with the body rendered without segments, and here the curled proboscis is reduced to a curled upper lip, with the antennae looking more like twin tufts of hair. The Aubin also exhibits a unique pattern, for each Volatile has an alter ego held in the animal’s mouth or alongside (Aguilera 1988, 21; Seler 1990–2000, 1:191, fig. 8; 5:21, 313). Seler identified the god accompanying the butterfly as the fire god, Xiuhtecuhtli, here attired with the forked feather headdress of a warrior. 25. These birds have been compared to bird messengers in the K’iche’ Maya Popol Vuh and the Yucatec Maya Ritual of the Bacabs, which have possible counterparts in the Dresden Codex (Houston et al. 2006, 231–233). Omens or messages seem to be carried by birds represented in the katun cycle of the Paris Codex and a parallel image on Mayapan Stela 1, with each bird representing a specific time period of approximately 20 years (Love 1994, 18–20, 43; Milbrath and Peraza 2003a, 39, figs. 30, 31). On Paris Codex 23–24, three birds appear among animals that represent a Postclassic zodiac 330

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

from Yucatan (Bricker and Bricker 1992, 2011; Milbrath 1999, tables 7.1, 7.2). Bird 1 has been linked with Libra, Bird 2 (an owl) with Gemini, and Bird 3 with Capricorn. Other animals in this 13-constellation zodiac include a scorpion that is apparently related to Scorpius, a fish-snake to Sagittarius, a bat to Aquarius, an ocelot to Aires, a rattlesnake to the Pleiades, a turtle to Orion, and two other partially preserved animals that seem to depict a frog and a peccary, which have been linked with Cancer and Leo, and an entirely effaced animal that could represent Virgo. A zodiac-like sequence from Yucatan also appears at the Classic period site of Acanceh, where the bat, the owl, and the rattlesnake represent an overlap with the Paris Codex (Miller 1991). 26. In his role as a Day Lord, Xiuhtecuhtli’s bird is the “blue hummingbird,” represented by Volatile number 1 (tables 11.4, 11.5). The breastplate worn by Xiuhtecuhtli in the Codex Borgia could be either a butterfly or a bird with wings spread wide, but imagery at Chichen Itza shows individual wing feathers, which suggested to Seler (1963, 1:96, fig. 317) that the breastplate represents a bird. 27. Another number set is implicit in the Nine Lords of the Night, represented by nine gods on Borgia 14, who appear in a repeating sequence of nine deities in the trecena almanacs of Aztec codices. Most of the Night Lords seem to have counterparts among the deities represented in the directional almanac, but only one relates to an animal deity. The eighth Night Lord is Tepeyollotl, an alter ego of Tezcatlipoca, who appears in the form of a jaguar on Borgia 10b and Borgia 63b; however, Tepeyollotl often takes an anthropomorphic form, as he does in the directional almanac, where he lies under the marriage blanket with the Water Goddess on Borgia 51b (figure 11.3). Numerology is inherent in the Nine Lords of the Night, for this group of nine also represent numbers that were incorporated in longer cycles of time, especially when combined with the 52-year Calendar Round, as they are in the directional almanac. In the context of the 52-year cycle on Borgia 49b–52b, it is noteworthy that a double Calendar Round (2 × 52 years or 65 × 260 days) is equivalent to thirteen Venus almanacs, each consisting of eight years (13 × 8 × 365 days), and over the course of eight years the Nine Lords of the Night series and the lunar month (29.53 days) both advance one half day, and this commensuration may be important in imagery representing the 104-year period used for the Venus almanac on Borgia 53–54 (Milbrath 2013, 145n9). 28. The Codex Vaticanus A has the only surviving Aztec image showing Tonacatecuhtli and his wife, Tonacacihuatl, here represented as patrons of the trecena 1 Crocodile. In the Codex Telleriano-Remensis the first half of the trecena 1 Crocodile is missing, as is the corresponding image of Tonacatecuhtli; however, the next page (27r) records a gloss that says Tonacatecuhtli was the one who created the world and he was lord over all (Quiñones Keber 1995, 163, 257, 329n25). Seler (1963, 1:65) noted that the Vaticanus A gloss for this trecena directly links Tonacatecuhtli with Citallantonali, identified by Pedro de los Ríos as the Milky Way. Nonetheless, other ethnohistorical

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texts distinguish the two. The Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas says that Citlaltonac and Citlalicue (Starry Skirt) were the parents of Tonacatecuhtli and that he rose up to the eighth heaven with his wife (Garibay 1973, 69–70). According to the Anales de  Cuauhtitlan, the uppermost layer of heaven, called Omeyocan (“place of duality”), was the domain of Citlaltonac and Citlalicue, Tonacatecuhtli and Tonacacihuatl, and several other gods (in Bierhorst 1992, 30). 29. The fire serpent on Borgia 49b also has some traits seen on the quetzal-snake, including hooked fangs, reptile paws with bird talons, and stars on its body, but it lacks feathers and has a segmented body and, instead of a rattle tail, a pointed tail that symbolizes a year sign (figure 11.1). 30. Male howlers often vocalize in concert around dawn or dusk, so their howling seems to mark the transition between night and day (Reid 1997, 178–179). This may be why the howler is one of the manifestations of the morning star in the Maya Dresden Codex (46–50). Of the five gods representing Venus in this almanac, this is the only one represented by an animal, but here the animal is almost human in form (Milbrath 1999, 173, fig. 5.3c). 31. As Michael Coe (1978) noted long ago, the howler monkey is especially prominent in imagery of the monkey scribe in Classic and Postclassic iconography in the Maya lowlands (Milbrath 1999, 226–227, figs. 3.9e, 5.3c). The Mayapan censer figure has been misidentified as an image of a dog (Domenici and Nielsen 2018; Fields et al. 2012). This is unlikely, for the role of a scribe is never attributed to dogs in Mesoamerica, whereas the dexterous hands of monkeys make them a natural animal avatar for the scribe. Furthermore, Mayapan’s Monkey Scribe has human-like hands and ears on the side of the head and large eye sockets, like a monkey, and a rounded nose sitting above the prognathous jaw, whereas dogs have a triangular nose embedded in the end of the snout. The nose on the Mayapan censer figure is very similar to a Classic Maya ceramic image of a monkey (Miller and Martin 2004, 87, plate 40). The prognathous jaw also suggests comparison with the howler monkey pictured on the Mixtec Codex Nuttall 77 (Baker 1992, 224, fig. 1b). 32. The eagle on Borgia 11a has wing feathers with blunt ends, whereas the feathers are curled at the end on Borgia 19a, a distinction associated with different raptors in the Volatile series (figure 11.7, table 11.4, numbers 5 and 8). 33. It has been noted that Sahagún’s description of the eagle looking directly into the sun is similar to European texts in medieval encyclopedias modeled on Classical texts, such as Pliny (Palmeri Capesciotti 2001, 211, 214). This may well be the model for the organization of Sahagún’s natural history volume, but overlaps in specific descriptions can be attributed to similar observations of animal behavior. Ornithologist David W. Steadman (personal communication, 2020) notes that eagles can face the sun directly, but they are not looking into the sun. Eagles, like most birds, do not have 332

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binocular vision; rather they have two separate fields of view with a large blind spot in the middle, so they do not see the sun when facing it directly. 34. Dresden 25–28 depicts ceremonies performed at year-end, represented by a sequence of four stone “trees” and animal offerings that are linked with the rotation of four yearbearers and the cardinal directions (Milbrath 2023). The Dresden Codex shows different animals sacrificed in yearbearer ceremonies associated with the four cardinal directions, but the directions shift in different almanacs. For example, an offering of fish appears on Dresden 27 with the yearbearer of the west, as on Codex Borgia 51b.

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12 Anthropomorphic opossums are prominently featured in the “New Year” section of the Dresden Codex (pages 25–28; figure 12.1), which pertains to the rituals that mark the beginning and end of the repeating 365-day cycle (the haab) in the pre-Hispanic Maya calendar. Although the animals have previously been interpreted as bacab/pauahtuns, the present research supports a different explanation for the association. I argue that they are part of a deity complex that includes the bacab/ pauahtuns, but has other members (co-essences) whose emphases shifted according to their contexts. In the Dresden New Year pages I identify the opossum figures as primary symbols of the uayeb, the five-day period at the conclusion of each haab. The sacred co-essences of the opossums are established by their shared positions according to ideas shown in the Madrid Codex diagram of time and space, which links the Calendar Round with the world directions. The Madrid illustration additionally expresses the apparent annual motion of the sun and the activity of the Sun God (Itzamna in his solar aspect; see chapter 13, this volume). A phrase that identifies the Dresden opossums is found in accompanying hieroglyphic texts. The construction, built around glyph 572 in the system developed by J. Eric S. Thompson, has been read as uay (way).1 As will be detailed in the discussion that follows, its translation has come to be used as a reference to coessences in a slightly different sense, as the melding of human and animal features in the creatures, and this https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c012

The New Year Pages of the Dresden Codex and the Concept of Co-essence Merideth Paxton

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Figure 12.1. Codex Dresden 25–28, the New Year ceremonies. From Förstemann (1880), http://www.famsi.org.

has led to descriptions of the animal figures as naguals (also defined and discussed in the sections that follow). Thus, T572 is regarded as the codical variant of an expression in the inscriptions of Yaxchilan and other Classic-period southern Maya lowlands settlements. The study that follows reconsiders that conclusion as well. Although I agree that the best reading of the glyphic components is indeed uay (way), I further observe that, in the Dresden New Year pages, T572 has a double meaning because a different, equally plausible definition has previously been proposed. I also establish that the understanding of T572 gained in this section cannot be used to interpret other parts of the manuscript, nor does it help explain passages in two other preconquest Maya documents, the Madrid Codex (Codex Tro-Cortesianus) and the Paris Codex.

THE PROVENIENCE AND DATE OF THE DRESDEN CODEX

There are no known European records pertaining to the acquisition of the Dresden Codex from the Maya. The first facts concerning its history were published in 1880 by Ernst Förstemann, who was the librarian at the institution that then held the manuscript, the Royal Library in Dresden. He reported that the purchase had been made by a previous occupant of the position, Johann Christian Göetze.2 Although Förstemann was a very early researcher in the history of Maya studies, the idea that the Dresden manuscript had come from Yucatan had already been proposed by the time he was writing his 1880 introduction to the first photographic facsimile reproduction of it.3 In these comments he recounted (Förstemann 1880, 9–10) that a manuscript attributed to Diego de Landa, the Relación de las cosas de Yucatan (henceforth Relación), had been discovered in the Academia de la Historia in Madrid and that the document had helped to link the codex with Yucatan.4 Charles Étienne Brasseur de Bourbourg, who found a copy of part of the original Relación in December of 1863, made the connection because he had noticed that some glyphs for month and day names were the same in both sources (Förstemann 1880, 9–10; Tozzer 1941, vii). Förstemann (1880, 10) concurred and noted other similarities, like the physical characteristics of the screenfold codex in his library and the Relación description of Maya book pages. However, with the development of greater knowledge of the pre-Hispanic Maya settlements, it has become apparent that the distribution of some and probably all of these features extended beyond Yucatan. The idea that the manuscript had come from the peninsula was maintained in the 1972 commentary by Eric Thompson. He cited Peter Martyr d’Angliera’s 1520 reference to two books that, along with other precious objects given to T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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Hernán Cortés by Moctezuma, had been sent to Europe from Veracruz in 1519. The statement that the books had “characters  .  .  . written  .  .  . lyne by lyne, with . . . small dice, fishookes, snares, files, stares, and other such formes and shapes” convinced Thompson that they must have had Maya hieroglyphs (Thompson 1972, 4). He decided that the manuscripts could have been personally collected by Cortés along his route between Cozumel and Cempoallan (modern-day Zempoala). Furthermore, the Dresden Codex had been purchased in Vienna, where he thought Charles V normally resided, and other gifts that were part of the 1519 shipment to the emperor were believed to have been found in Austria (Thompson 1972, 3–4, 17). Moving beyond the general notion that the origin of the Dresden Codex can be traced to Yucatan, Thompson developed a more specific proposal, that it was painted at or near Chichen Itza. He was convinced that the language of the text was Yucatec, and he recognized that some glyphs (T589, 608, 625, and 564) in the Maya manuscripts, principally the Dresden, otherwise occur only at Chichen. He considered the presence of strong central Mexican influence at the settlement and in the codex as well. Moreover, he decided that this was one of the few places in eastern or central Yucatan that would have maintained astronomical studies around AD 1200, when he thought the document was painted, to support its tables pertaining to eclipses and to the periods of appearance and disappearance of Venus (Thompson 1972, 15–16, 113). I have concluded from previous research that the Dresden Codex was most likely produced during the late Postclassic (AD 1250–Spanish conquest) and that it probably did not come from Chichen Itza (Paxton 1986, 1991, 2022).5 The linguistic affiliations of the hieroglyphic text are more complex than Thompson realized (Lacadena 1997; Wald 2004). Additionally, his assertion that the document would have been obtained between Cozumel and Zempoala because it was part of the 1519 shipment from Cortés to Charles V in Vienna has not been sustained by subsequent investigation. From his examination of all known pre-Hispanic objects in Austria, Christian F. Feest (1990, 32) learned that the earliest acquisition date is later than Peter Martyr d’Angliera’s 1520 description of Maya hieroglyphs. The first probable such date is 1522 (a plumed shield), and the first date registered in an inventory is 1590 (a Mixtec piece). Nevertheless, I would say that the working assumption of Yucatec provenience is still valid because of the close similarity of the scenes illustrated on pages 25–28 to a detailed description of the ritual cycle that ended each 365-day haab in the Relación. No comparable account has been discovered elsewhere in the Maya area. Both lines of information include the activities held during the 5-day uayeb that was added to the 360-day (18 × 20 days) interval of the tun to 344

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approximate the 365.2422-day tropical year in a numerical system that did not include fractions. THE RELACIÓN DESCRIPTIONS AND THE DRESDEN NEW YEAR PAGES

The comparisons that can be drawn between the Relación descriptions of the New Year ceremonies and the treatment of the same subject in the Dresden Codex are summarized in this section. The Relación account of the New Year ritual begins with a general description of the haab, mentioning the unlucky character of the so-called nameless days of the uayeb. It further provides the names of the tzolkin days that are the first days of the incoming year. These yearbearers result from the addition of the 5-day uayeb to the 360-day tun, which would otherwise repeat exactly.6 The introduction also mentions the cosmological placement of the bacabs, noting: Among the multitudes of gods which this nation worshiped they worshiped four, each of them called Bacab. They said that they were four brothers whom God placed, when he created the world, at the four points of it, holding up the sky so that it should not fall. They also said of these Bacabs that they escaped when the world was destroyed by the deluge. They gave other names to each one of them and designated by them the part of the world where God had placed him, and they appropriated to him and to the part where he stands one of the four dominical letters. And they distinguished the calamities and fortunate events which they said must happen during the year of each one of them. (Tozzer 1941, 135–136)

The salient points of the passage are that the bacabs were placed at the four parts of the world in order to hold up the sky, they had survived a cosmic flood, and they were given names that associated them with a world direction. Each bacab and its world part was also linked with one of the dominical letters (yearbearers) and the good and bad fates of its haab. The quotation is from the Tozzer edition of the Relación, and one aspect of the translation requires further comment. The Spanish statement that the four bacabs were placed at the four points of the world is from the phrase “las cuatro partes del mundo.”7 As I have previously noted (Paxton 2001b, 16–17), it is preferable to see the meaning of this phrase here and elsewhere in the Relación as a reference to the four parts of the world. However, it has been construed as the four cardinal points in a number of major studies (Roys 1967 [1933], 172; Tozzer 1941, 160). Sequences of world destructions and creations are common in Mesoamerican religions, and from the colonial continuation of the pre-Hispanic manuscript T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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Figure 12.2. Codex Madrid 76–75, diagram of the directions of the Maya universe: east (lakin), north (xaman), west (chikin), and south (nohol). Drawing by the author after Lee (1985).

tradition in the Chilam Balam texts (particularly the Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel), it is clear that the collapse of the four parts of the world is also synonymous with destruction of the universe. Its re-creation requires renewal of these four divisions (Roys 1967 [1933], 99–102, 170–172). The four parts of the world are formed around a fifth division of the universe, as can be seen in the Yucatec illustration of the five solar directions on pages 76–75 of the preHispanic Madrid Codex (figure 12.2). The system is built from the central sector occupied by an observer who defined east and west as the daily positions of sunrise and sunset, with north and south being the remaining segments of the horizons. Because of the apparent motion of the sun, sunrise and sunset 346

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migrated along the horizons to reach limits on the dates of the winter and summer solstices (Aveni 2001, 61–66). In the Madrid Codex diagram, the calendrical alignment of the directions is indicated by the Maltese-Cross-like motif around the central square (Aveni 2001, 148–150). As researchers have known for many years, this image records the twenty 13-day intervals (the trecenas) that compose the 260-day ritual calendar, known as the tzolkin.8 In addition, my previously published research demonstrates that the eighteen 20-day periods of the 365-day haab are shown on paths that connect the center sector with the solstice corners of the Maya universe, and the uayeb is probably represented by a group of dots outside one of the corners (Paxton 1997, 2001b, 2010). I have argued that the 360-day tun is symbolized by the footprints of the Sun God, who is shown in three scenes along the east-west axis of the illustration. Thus, both the 360-day tun and the related 365-day haab are sacred ritual cycles. I have proposed that the Moon Goddess (Ix Chel, with the codical avatars Goddesses I and O), the companion of the Sun God in the vignettes, is the patroness of the tzolkin. As discussed long ago by Thompson (1971 [1950], 83–84; 1970, 205–207, 235–237), the two deities in the central square of the Madrid Codex illustration of the world directions are a creator pair. In personified form, seen in this illustration, the male creator is Itzamna (God D, whom Thompson identified as the aged Sun God), married to Ix Chel.9 I have further concluded that the cosmic diagram expresses religious sanction of Calendar Round dates. As a record of the union of the creative pair, these dates symbolize the offspring of the deities (Paxton 1997; 2001b, 31–59). Returning to the comparison of the pre-Hispanic and early colonial descriptions of the uayeb ceremonies and the resulting insights concerning the role of the opossums in the Dresden New Year pages, the Relación provides further essential information on the names used for the bacabs: The first then of these dominical letters is Kan. The year which this letter stood for was the omen of the Bacab, whose other names are Hobnil, Kanal Bacab, Kan Pauah Tun, Kan Xib Chac. They assigned this one to the direction of the South. The second letter is Muluc. They assigned him to the East; his year was the omen of the Bacab, which they called Can tizic nal, Chacal Bacab, Chac Pauah Tun, Chac Xib Chac. The third letter is Ix. His year was the omen year of the Bacab, which they called Sac Cimi, Sacal Bacab, Sac Pauah Tun, Sac Xib Chac; they assigned him to the direction of North. The fourth letter is Cauac. His year was the omen of the Bacab, which they call Hosan ek, Ekel Bacab, Ek Pauah Tun, Ek Xib Chac, they assigned him to the direction of the West (Tozzer 1941, 137–138).

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The text also notes that uayeb observances included “services for the Bacabs . . . and for the god whom they called, as well as the Bacabs, by four other names, which are Kan u Uayeyab, Chac u Uayeyab, Sac u Uayeyab, and Ek u Uayeyab” (Tozzer 1941, 139). In the Relación, the colors, Kan (yellow), Chac (red), Sac (white), and Ek (black), associate these deities with the four perimeter directions (shown around the square center sector in the previously discussed Madrid Codex diagram of the five directions, figure 12.2).10 The strong similarity between the parallel sections in the Relación and the Dresden Codex is shown by representative examples selected from the repetitive descriptions in each of the sources. The colonial text describing the ceremony for Kan years states: It was the custom in all the towns of Yucatan that there should be two heaps of stone, facing each other at the entrance of the town, on all four sides of the town . . . for the celebration of the festivals of the unlucky days. . . . In this year [Kan] then they made an image or hollow figure of the god of clay, which they called Kan u Uayeyab, and they carried it to the heaps of dry stone which they had raised at the southern side . . . and having cleaned and adorned with arches and green the road leading to the place of heaps of stone where the statue was, they went all together to it with great devotion. . . . [T]he priest censed it with forty-nine grains of maize ground up with their incense. . . . The image having been incensed, they cut off the head of a hen and presented . . . it to him. (Tozzer 1941, 139–141)

The text follows with details of another procession and further offerings, including the leg of a deer that was given to the priest. The correspondence between the text and the scene on Dresden 28 is immediately apparent from the tzolkin day names listed along the left side (figure 12.3). The glyphs for the final days of the five-day uayeb appear in the upper parts. Although the colonial yearbearers mentioned in the Relación are shifted by one day, the first days of the new year—Akbal, Lamat, Ben, and Etz’nab—are painted in the lower portions of the pages.11 In the bottom panel a decapitated bird is shown as an offering, and a bound deer leg is nearby. The skeletal burden carried by the opossum on page 28 would seem to be a portent of death, as is consistent with the associations in the Relación of each haab with good or evil. The colonial-period statement mentions that “these services and feasts over . . . they began the new year” (Tozzer 1941, 139), which indicates that all of the illustrations in the Dresden New Year pages probably pertain to the uayeb (a conclusion also reached by Harvey Bricker and Victoria Bricker, 2011). 348

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Figure 12.3. Codex Dresden 28, detail of the uayeb ceremony. From Förstemann (1880), http://www.famsi.org.

THE OPOSSUM AS A UAYEB SYMBOL

The hieroglyphic text that names the opossum figures was first recognized by Victoria Bricker (1986, 90–91) as a pair of related collocations on pages 26 and 28, located in the second row of the upper register, shown at B2 (figures 12.1, 12.4). She transcribed the first unit as T25.74:74. From one of the graphemes in the so-called Landa alphabet found in the Relación, she read T74:74 as mam(a) and related it to the word mam (“maternal grandfather”), which is preserved in a description of a uayeb ceremony in the Historia de Yucatan of Diego López de Cogolludo. Bricker interpreted T25 as the second-person pronoun meaning “our,” and she saw the complete phrase as “our maternal grandfather.” In fact, the form of the pronoun is ambiguous. J. Eric S. Thompson (1962, 47) first cataloged it as T25, but ultimately favored the third-person pronoun (u, T1) and the meaning “his” (Thompson 1972, 92). As shown in the figure 12.4 comparison, the outline of the affix under discussion is not T25 because it more closely resembles the labeled example of T1 (shown directly below), seen on page 25a and in the figure as well, in the construction of the word cacaw (“chocolate”). Since T1 is used in a parallel text on page 25a, I identify the page 28a form as T1, which can also be translated as “its.” In fact, Bricker and Bricker (2011, 134–135) came to read this affix as the third-person pronoun u (T1). On page 26a, T557 (also ma) substitutes for T74, and despite damage to the four pages, it is apparent that they all record the word mam. Bricker’s (1986, 90–91) transcription of the second part of the collocation pair on page 28a, located at A2, is T95.130:572.47 (figures 12.5 and 12.7a). She read the main sign T572 as way, confirmed by accompanying affixes (T130 [wa] and T47 [ya]) that function as phonetic complements. Noting the likely presence of affixes that denote the directional colors in all four damaged but parallel entries in the upper uayeb portions of the New Year pages, she associated the texts with the rotation of the directions and colors in the Relación description. Thus, her initial understanding was that the page 28a phrase is the name of the god ek (“black”) way ca-mam (“our grandfather”), which is related to Ek u Uayeyab. This was slightly modified to be read as his or its grandfather, and I would agree, with a preference for the meaning “its grandfather,” and a reference to the opossum. Due in part to the prominence of the bacabs in the Relación passage describing year-end ceremonies, the Dresden New Year opossums are commonly identified as the same beings (López Austin 1993, 222–223; 1999, 54; 2012, 70–71; Taube 1988, 229–233; Thompson 1970, 276–277). However, there is no direct reference to the bacab/pauahtuns in the name just discussed or elsewhere in the texts of the New Year pages. The Thompson association was made on the basis of a 350

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Figure 12.4. Codex Dresden 28a, the mam name of the opossums. From Förstemann (1880), http://www.famsi.org.

phrase he found in the Books of Chilam Balam, Tolil Och or Ix Tolil, which identifies the bacabs as opossum actors. Alfredo López Austin (1993, 222–223) did not fully accept Thompson’s view that the opossums in the codex represent actors, noting that the tol component of the cited term “refers to the long, whitish, bristling hairs mixed with the soft, short fur of the genus Didelphis.” He proposed that Ix Toloch can be seen as a play on words that means “opossum actor,” “bristly opossum,” or both.12 Nevertheless, there is a second definition of the word mam in Yucatec that suggests a more direct link between the Dresden opossums and the uayeb and less emphasis on the bacabs. Based on a record made by J. Eric S. Thompson before 1975, the Cordemex Dictionary states that the mam is a “feared evil deity among the Maya, which emerges from its dwelling place below the surface of the earth only during specific days of crisis (uayeb/ wayeb); at the end of which all reverence is suspended and [it] is harshly expelled or banished” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 491).13

Figure 12.5. Codex Dresden 26a and 28a, examples of T572. From Förstemann (1880), http://www .famsi.org. 352

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Figure 12.6. (a) Opossum on Codex Dresden 28a. From Förstemann (1880), http://www.famsi.org. (b) Opossum virginianus (Didelphis virginiana) in the act of feigning death. Photograph by Tony Young, reproduced with the permission of the photographer.

According to the Cordemex Dictionary (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 593), the Yucatec word och corresponds to the Opossum virginianus, an animal with traits that make it a particularly apt incarnation of the uayeb.14 One of these is its renowned ability to “play possum” by convincingly feigning death in the face of dire threat from a predator (cf. figure 12.6a and 12.6b). Once the danger has passed, it revives to resume normal activity. Similarly, the uayeb is associated with the ending, or apparent death, of the old haab. With the beginning T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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of the incoming haab, the uayeb component is also reanimated to function later as a symbol of the conclusion of the year. Moreover, the life span of opossums is brief in comparison with that of other mammals, but the species is maintained by prolific reproduction, with two to three births of thirteen to twenty offspring per year.15 The uayeb is the shortest interval in the Calendar Round, and upon its termination, the longest period, the haab of 365  days, returns, bringing reanimation of the 5-day component.

CO- ESSENCES AND OTHER SPIRITUAL ALLIANCES

In recent years interpretation of the Dresden New Year opossums has shifted to include the human traits of the anthropomorphic creatures. This has resulted from awareness that in the Classic-period inscriptions of the southern Maya lowlands, the hieroglyph T539 (figure 12.7b) expresses the concept of co-essence, which has been treated as a relationship between human and animal forms (more complete discussion of the meaning of co-essence follows). The reading of T539 way (uay) is grounded in the phonetic decipherment of affixes T130 (wa) and T47 (ya) (Stuart 1987, 47). Stephen Houston and David Stuart (1989, 3) observed that both affixes can appear simultaneously with T539 (with T130 typically appearing before T539 and T47 following it, transcribed as T130.539.47), and either can be used separately with the T539 main sign. The third possibility is that T539 can be unaccompanied by affixes. From this, they concluded that T130 and T47 are phonetic complements signaling the reading of the logograph T539 as WAY. One example of the connection of T539 with Classic-period texts and images in the southern Maya lowlands is found on Lintel 15 at Yaxchilan, where a large serpent fills the left half of the composition, and nearby text informs readers that it is the way of God K (Houston and Stuart 1989, 8–9).16 Houston and Stuart (1989, 3) were aware that Victoria Bricker had previously reached the same phonetic reading of affixes T130 and T47. Thus, they came to see T572 as the codical form of T539 with the meaning co-essence, an interpretation also followed by Macri and Vail (2009, 49). Because T572 is linked with the cosmic directions and the opossums in the Dresden almanac, it is apparently the latter perspective that has guided perception of the anthropomorphic opossums as directionally oriented nagual figures (Nikolai Grube in Schele and Grube 1997, 171–174). In this instance, the meaning of nagual was not stated, but the reference would seem to be to the partial transformation of humans into opossums, or vice versa. To better understand the function of the opossum creatures in the Dresden New Year pages, it is necessary to review 354

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Figure 12.7. Two hieroglyphs read as WAY (UAY): (a) T572 and (b) T539. From Thompson (1962, 152, 198).

the meanings of the terms nagual and “co-essence” and explain why the latter is preferable to the concept underlying Nikolai Grube’s identification. In providing the seminal definition, George Foster (1944, 85) stated that the origin of nagual is in the Aztec stem naual, a spelling that was used in early phonetic records of the language, such as the accounts of Friar Bernardino de Sahagún. Foster’s investigation showed that the first Christian missionaries had learned the term as a convenient means to describe a “variety of unrelated indigenous rites and practices.” He saw that it could refer to individuals who assumed animal form for evil purposes. Additionally, it could mean such a close spiritual connection between humans and animals that when the animal died, its counterpart would follow. Foster further observed that some early descriptions of nagual traits had subsequently been lost through the substitution of new concepts. Hence, a term that had initially been poorly defined had become even more confusing. Foster (1944, 103) concluded that the transforming witch is the essence of the idea, and he cautioned against generic application of nagual to the exclusion of local terminology. As Cecelia Klein and her colleagues have commented, this practice has not always been observed (Klein et al. 2002, 391–392). For these and other reasons that follow, I have avoided nagual and similar classifications involving humans and animals in this discussion of the Dresden opossums. When Houston and Stuart used the term uay (way) to mean “co-essence” in 1989, their work was based on the then-unpublished version of a study by John T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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Monaghan (1998). One of Monaghan’s observations was that Catholic missionaries had had difficulty explaining the Holy Trinity and personal responsibility for sin because their converts regarded themselves as members of groups, not as single entities. He had also noticed that the word for “person” and the number 20 are both vinik in many Maya languages, and that the number is fundamental to the composition of the tzolkin and the haab. He further noted that it was standard practice throughout Mesoamerica to name babies according to their dates of birth, which would have derived from these two cycles or their local equivalents. The date also, at least ideally, established the children’s good or bad fortunes and assigned their professions. The influence of the haab on the formation of a child was such that if it was born during the five nameless days at the end, the infant similarly would have no name or destiny. Monaghan (1998, 141) noted that such people were regarded as physically defective as well. Thus, each calendrical name incorporated its bearer into a larger group with the same birth date. The idea that an individual human was defined by membership in a group led Monaghan (1998) to consider what the status should be called, and he chose the term “co-essence” rather than nagual, tonal, spiritual alter ego, companion animal, destiny animal, personal totem, guardian spirit, and transforming animal. He rejected some of these terms because of Foster’s research and because he was aware that co-essences involving such natural phenomena as the sun and moon, lightning, comets, rain, and plants could be demonstrated. Others were discarded because he saw that it is possible for beings with shared destinies never to interact. That the notion of co-essence can be applied to the Dresden opossums is supported by the appearance of the fundamental word vinik in the Cordemex Dictionary, a compilation of sources on the colonial and modern Yucatec language. One of the included dictionaries, the late sixteenth-century Motul Dictionary, defines winik (vinik or uinic) as “man” and “woman” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 19a, 923). The Relación describes the connection between birth dates and destinies: When their children were born, they washed them at once, and when they were through the torment of flattening their foreheads and heads, they went with them to the priests, so that they might see his destiny and tell the profession which he was to pursue, to give the name which he was to bear during his childhood. (Tozzer 1941, 129)

Various statements of the connection between birthdays and fates are additionally provided in copies of old Yucatec Maya documents made during the 356

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nineteenth century by Juan Pío Pérez. For example, on 4 Cimi, a good day in June, “Gods are born,” and on 13 Imix, a good day in July, “Wise men are born” (Craine and Reindorp 1979, 44–45).17 My own view is that Monaghan’s calendrical aspect of co-essence is conceptually linked to Bricker’s independently developed phonetic reading of T572 as uay (way) in the context of the Dresden New Year opossums. This is in part because one definition of the word uay in the Cordemex Dictionary of colonial and modern Yucatec, based on the Vienna Dictionary, is “día y noche” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 915), which agrees with another dictionary of colonial Yucatec that lists “día de 24 horas.”18 The page 28a glyph at B3, T1.528:87.601, has been read by Bricker (1986, 180) as u-cu-ch(u), u-cuch (“its burden”), and the collocations at A3 and A4 refer to the death god (figure 12.8, see note 1 for glyphic reading order). According to Bricker (1986, 101–102, 180), T15.736:140 (the glyph at A4) should be read phonetically as ah-camal(la) and correlated with the term ah-camal (“dead person”). She sees this as an epithet that is usually paired with the name of the death god. Bricker (1986, 180) also notes that statements of possession are typically constructed with the noun that names the possessed object preceding that of the possessor. From this, I would say the text on page 28a has two parallel phrases that identify the possessions of the haab, which are, as previously discussed, its black uay mam and the burden it carries, the death figure. Thus, the glyphs reiterate the information conveyed by the illustration, and both are consistent with the Relación statement that the yearbearers were associated with beneficent or unfortunate years. The texts on the three remaining pages do not repeat the phrases exactly, but, as noted earlier by Bricker and Bricker (2011, 120–135), they do follow the same relationship to the haab. Hence, the uayeb opossum is more closely connected in the text with the fate of the haab than it is with any human counterpart that would be inferred from the anthropomorphic character of the opossums. Since the word uay can mean a twenty-four-hour period, the possibility that the glyph refers only to the five days of the uayeb must be considered. Nevertheless, the Relación description of the rituals indicates that it probably also pertains to the idea of co-essence. As mentioned before, the source states that the four bacabs who supported the sky were known by other names that typically have prefixes connecting them with the four perimeter directions of the universe. This can be seen as a direct statement that they were co-essences. Indeed, Tozzer (1941, 135–136n632) was of the opinion that “it is impossible to place the Bacabs, the Chacs, the Pauahs and the Uayebs, each in a distinct and special category,” and Taube (1992, 92–99) reached the same conclusion. T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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Figure 12.8. Codex Dresden 28a, coessences of the haab. From Förstemann (1880), http://www .famsi.org.

I would observe that these deities are united by their shared corner positions in a calendrical and solar orientation that is consistent with the Madrid 76–75 diagram of the universe (figure 12.2). This is an expression of their relationship 358

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to Kinich Ahau Itzamna, Itzamna’s aspect as the Sun God. As discussed elsewhere in considerable detail (Paxton 2001b), it is my view that replication of the religiously sanctioned order of the cosmos—the solar-based world directions—was and is a fundamental organizing principle of Yucatec Maya ritual and community life. To summarize, one of the most basic concepts is the bacabs, who are named as the featured deity in the Relación description of the setting for the uayeb ritual. It is these directionally oriented deities who support the sky. The sequence of cosmic destructions and recreations involves collapse and renewal of the directions, which are formed by the apparent movement of sunrise and sunset along the horizons between the solstices. I think of the bacab/pauahtuns as a solar symbol, an incarnation of the Sun God in his aspect as Itzamna, because they are an expression of his presence on the solstices. Identified in the studies that focus on their aspect as God N, the deities are regarded as strongly quadripartite, and another of their traits is old age (Taube 1992, 92, 96). I have argued elsewhere (Paxton 2001b) that these features are a reflection of the slowness of the apparent motion of the sun at the solstices. Their association with the solstices is further consistent with the characterization of the uayeyab mams as aged grandfathers. The differently named uayeb personifications of Itzamna, including the xib chacs, would naturally have occupied the same spaces. A separate passage of the Relación, a description of the baptisms of children, shows the application of the directional template depicted in the Madrid 76–75 diagram in the design of ritual space. During the ceremony the locations of four representatives of the chacs, who are synonymous with the xib chacs (Taube 1992, 17) and are associated with bringing rain in support of agriculture, conform to the divisions of the perimeter directions of the world on the solstices. This is as seen by an observer in the fifth sector, the center. The four chac impersonators were seated on stools in the four corners (“en las cuatro esquinas”) of the space, which was further defined by cords that they held. The chac priest, who was the primary officiant, was seated in the center (Tozzer 1941, 104). Early in Maya studies Thompson (1939, 160) and Tozzer (1941, 145–146n707) noticed the close relationship between Itzamna and the agricultural function of the chacs. In fact, Tozzer (1941, n707) concluded that the rain god (God B) was a personification of Itzamna. I perceive this as a reflection of the incorporation of seasonal rains in the solar agricultural year. Thus, the chacs (the xib chacs) and their co-essences (the bacab/pauahtuns and the uayeyab deities) are connected with the sun (Itzamna) and with seasonal cycles and the solstice T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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corners of the universe. The description of the baptisms further shows how the principal purposes of rites could lead to emphases that shifted among the coessence members. Interpretation of the Dresden New Year opossums as the primary representatives of the uayeb is consistent with this practice. Returning to the discussion of the relationship between T539 and its “codical form” T572, we might wonder whether the uayeb scenes could express multiple levels of meaning that involve nagual-like human-animal transformation. On the basis of the Motul Dictionary, the Cordemex Dictionary (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 916) also defines uay (way) as “ser hecho brujo en figura de animal” (to be made a sorcerer with the form of an animal). Another early source relied on for the compilation, the San Francisco Dictionary, says “transfigurar por encantamiento” (transfigure through enchantment) (Michelon 1976, 379). Having previously quoted these or similar Yucatec Maya meanings (Houston and Stuart 1989, 5), David Stuart (2002, 411) has subsequently commented that way refers to “an animal familiar or some similar aspect of the soul.” There is additional support for acceptance by the Yucatec Maya of the notion that humans can transform into animals,19 and we might speculate that the codex passage could have served as a guide used by shamans to impersonate the opossum and enact the appropriate ritual while in the transformed state of a trance. However, Klein and her colleagues (Klein et al. 2001) have cogently argued against broad interpretations involving shamanism and trances. Furthermore, there is no indication that such actually happened during the Yucatec New Year ceremonies. To the contrary, the Relación only mentions observances focused on deity images. Support for interpretation of T572 as way with the dual meaning of “coessence” and a reference to the uayeb comes from comparison with the Relación description, not from other occurrences of the glyph in the Maya codices. In fact, T572 should not be used to explain shared human and animal forms in the remaining sections of the Dresden Codex, nor in the other cited manuscripts, because the distribution of the glyph does not correspond with the appropriate images. There are numerous examples of combined human and animal forms in the Dresden and Madrid codices, the two most extensive of the surviving documents, but T572 only appears in the Dresden New Year pages. Thus, this is a special case. Figures that represent deities in the Dresden, Madrid, and Paris codices are normally based on the human form. Therefore, it seems that a primary reason for the combination of the human and animal bodies is the creation of gods and goddesses that are an overall projection of human existence onto the realm of the divine. Moreover, there are indications in the Cordemex Dictionary that 360

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the Yucatec Maya might not have sharply distinguished humans from animals. Thinking again of the concept of vinik (winik in the Cordemex orthography) that helped inspire Monaghan’s research, we could cite various colonial sources that give its meaning as “man,” “woman,” and “individual.” The same dictionaries define winikhal as “to make a man and to form a creature . . . to form any rational or irrational animal . . . to become human” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 923). The word pixan similarly supports this idea. Its colonial definition is “soul that gives life to man,” and (ah) pixan refers to an “animal that has a rational soul” (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 659).20 In an earlier version of this study that was published in Spanish, I have commented on physical similarities that would have linked opossums with humans and encouraged references to them as grandfathers. The paws of the animals have features like human fingernails, and their tracks closely resemble human handprints (Paxton 2019). Some of the codex illustrations may well include images that were understood by the pre-Hispanic Maya as way creatures, but this is not certain due to lack of confirmation in the accompanying texts. The term way is associated with anthropomorphic animals (opossums in this case) only in the New Year pages.

CONCLUSIONS

The overarching conclusion of this research is that the opossums shown in the New Year ceremonies of the Dresden Codex (pages 25–28) belong to a cluster of deity co-essences whose members are unified by quadripartite natures that derive from the annual solar cycle. The anthropomorphic opossums, identified by T572 and featured in the top sections, should be seen as the primary symbols of the uayeb. The finding, which differs from previous interpretations of these creatures as bacab/pauahtuns, is developed from my observation that the animals have traits that make them especially apt to symbolize the five-day interval at the end of the haab. They can feign death when they are under dire threat and then become reanimated, which parallels the association of the uayeb with the seeming death of the old haab. The recycling haab returns to life and so does its uayeb component, which will again function as a sign of the end of the incoming 365-day period. Interpretation of the opossums as representations of the uayeb is also appropriate because their life span is relatively short in comparison with other mammals, but the species is perpetuated through prolific reproduction. Although the uayeb is the shortest interval in the Calendar Round, its return is signaled by its association with the beginning of the longest component, the haab. T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

The phonetic reading and interpretation of T572 by other researchers additionally underlies my conclusions concerning how the anthropomorphic opossums functioned in the Dresden New Year pages. Although the combination of human and animal traits has been explained through the reading of the glyph as way (uay) with the meaning of “co-essence” or nagual, the existence of another definition of way in the Cordemex compilation of colonial dictionaries of Yucatec Maya, which has the meaning of a twenty-four-hour period, is significant. This reading supports Victoria Bricker’s previous connection of T572 with the uayeb. Another important finding is that while the definition of mam, written with the Dresden opossums, permits reading it as “grandfather,” a second characterization of mam is as an evil deity that emerges from below the earth only during the crisis of the uayeb/wayeb. My understanding is that way has a dual meaning in the context of the Dresden New Year scenes. As a twenty-four-hour period, it is a reference to the uayeb days, and it is also an expression of Monaghan’s co-essence. Relying on Foster’s benchmark definition of nagual as the product of sorcery, I would comment that the Relación description does not allow explanation of the anthropomorphic features of the Dresden opossum creatures as naguals. Close similarities between the manuscript illustrations and the Relación description of the uayeb ceremonies support the idea that the uayeb opossums are members of a complex of deified co-essences. Both the colonial account and the codex text associate the painted images with the haab cycle and the Maya directions embodied in the apparent annual motion of the sun, concepts that are illustrated in the calendrical diagram of the world directions found on pages 76–75 of the Madrid Codex. The Relación treatment of the uayeb ceremonies mentions the importance of a group of deities, including the bacabs, the pauahtuns, the xib chacs (the chacs), and the uayeyab (uayeb) deities. That they are co-essences is indicated by the statement in this source that these different names refer to the same being, and by confirmation from modern researchers that the identities of the deities cannot be separated. This interpretation is further supported by their closely related functions. As indicators of the apparent annual movement of the sun (Itzamna) between the solstices, the bacab/pauahtuns defined the world directions shown in the Madrid Codex diagram. They further provided the cosmological setting for the directionally oriented uayeb ceremonies described in the Relación and depicted in the Dresden New Year pages. The xib chacs (the chacs) of the Relación brought seasonal rain during the annual agricultural cycle, which was, of course, also supported by the sun. Their places in the description of the baptismal ceremony in the Relación is in accordance with the solstice corners of the Madrid Codex 362

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diagram that are marked by the eighteen 20-day footprints of Itzamna in his solar aspect (the tun). In the Dresden New Year passage, the association of the uayeb opossums with the directions is shown in their accompanying text, and they bridge the outgoing tun of the old haab and the incoming tun of the new haab. Hence, I see the featured deities of the uayeb rituals as Monaghan’s calendrically formed co-essences. It seems that the varying focuses of different ceremonies resulted in shifting emphases among these co-essential deities. Although the role of the bacab/ pauahtuns in the instance of the New Year ceremonies was to indicate the overall cosmological setting and symbolize the haab context, the offerings and related uayeb events were directed specifically toward the uayeyab deities. On other occasions, such as baptisms, the chacs were the main deities. Similarly, the four directionally oriented opossums are the featured solar deities of the uayeb. Another conclusion that has resulted from this investigation is that T572 should no longer be thought of as the codical form of T539. This is because T572 only appears in the Dresden New Year pages, not with any other examples of blended humans and animals in the Maya codices. Although the preHispanic Maya might have understood the latter images as way creatures, this is by no means certain. The motifs could also have resulted from an overall projection of human existence onto the realm of the divine during the construction of religious concepts and/or an absence of sharp distinction between humans and animals. Modern scholars may search for ways to classify deities and other concepts under study by isolating their individual properties, but the pre-Hispanic Maya apparently endeavored to treat these entities as interwoven aspects of a unified, highly sophisticated ordering of their natural environment. Acknowledgments. I would like to thank Elizabeth Baquedano and Susan Milbrath for inviting me to participate in “Animal Symbolism in Postclassic Mesoamerica,” which they organized for the 2019 annual meeting of the Society for American Archaeology. It is this session that underlies the present volume. I very much appreciate the conscientious work of Susan and Elizabeth that has brought our investigations into publishable form. The perspectives of the reviewers and the members of the editorial staff at the University Press of Colorado, including Allegra Martschenko, Alison Tartt, Laura Furney, and Daniel Pratt, have led to improvements in this presentation, and I am grateful for their efforts as well. It is a special pleasure to thank Cecelia Klein for helping to shape the field of Mesoamerican studies through the numerous research contributions that T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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she has made over the years. While her publications have surely been substantial, they have also been engagingly written from title to final conclusion. One such example is “Shamanitis: An Art Historical Disease,” cited in the present study. In addition to developing her own research, she has been an unswerving advocate for Mesoamerican art history and the advancement of women in the field. For instance, as a member of the editorial board of Art Bulletin, she encouraged the inclusion of more articles on Precolumbian topics. Also, during a conference session that I attended, a speaker abandoned his prepared text to comment on the special challenges faced by women scholars. Cecelia quickly summarized the situation, “Women have to work twice as hard to get half as far.” I wish Cecelia Klein many more energy-filled years as her ideas for research and advocacy continue to materialize.

NOTES

1. The T numbers mentioned in this chapter refer to the Thompson (1962) catalog, which is based on visual resemblances among hieroglyphic forms. For this discussion it is sufficient to mention that he reserved the numbers from 1 through 500 for secondary elements (affixes) and used those from 501 through 999 for main signs. The relative positions of the affixes to the accompanying main signs are indicated by periods when the affix is to the right or left, and by colons when it is above or below. For example, 1.16.60:*.93:24:125 shows that the affixes 1 and 16 appear at the left of the main sign (*), with T1 at the extreme left. T60 is above the main sign. The affix 93 is at its right, with number 24 beneath and 125 farther below (Thompson 1962, 32–33). The standard notation for texts refers to the locations of glyphs within a group of columns. The first column on the left is A, and the first glyph in that column is A1, followed below by A2, then A3, A4, and so on. The next column to the right is B1, B2, and so forth. The reading order is often in pairs, so A1 and B1 form a pair, and C1 and D1 are another pair. That system was not strictly followed in the New Year pages (see discussion of page 28a and figure 12.8). In that instance, the pairs were A2 and B2, A3 and A4, and B3 and B4. Because the first glyph columns of the Dresden New Year pages consist of lists of dates in the 260-day cycle, discussions typically begin the positional indicators with A1 in the second column. That is the convention followed in this chapter. 2. The 1880 Förstemann publication was reprinted in 1882 and 1892. This research has relied on photocopies of the 1880 and 1882 Förstemann introductions and the 1880 images of the codex pages found at http://www.famsi.org. The manuscript was obtained in Vienna from an unnamed person in 1739, while Göetze was en route to Rome, and it was added to the library collection in 1740 (Förstemann 1880, 1). 364

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Förstemann was interested in serious academic inquiry into the nature of the codex, and he could easily have examined the resources of the library meticulously. That he had done so is apparent from his summary in the 1880 publication of earlier descriptions of the collection by his predecessors. Hence, it is unlikely that further knowledge concerning the origins of the codex will be gained through searches of the archives of the Royal Library. 3. The 1880 and 1892 title pages of the Förstemann codex facsimile publications state that they are “mit 74 Tafeln in Chromo-Lichtdruck.” According to Harold T. Betteridge (1978, 393, 599), this means the book has seventy-four color phototype or collotype illustration plates. These processes rely on photographs printed by other means (Gove 1961, 446, 1704). 4. Tozzer (1941, vii) accepted the attribution of the Relación to Landa, and this view has generally been followed. However, Tozzer also quoted Jean Genet’s opinion that “Diego de Landa is one of the greatest plagiarists of his period.” I have previously expressed doubts that the entire work should be attributed to him (Paxton 1994). 5. This late Postclassic date is supported in these previous studies by, among other arguments, my identification of a group of iconographic motifs that are known only from the illustrations in the Dresden Codex and the art of the late Postclassic period. One such example is the large, rectangular form seen on the chest of the Dresden 26a opossum. I understand this to be a necklace with horizontal rows of braids mounted between horizontal rods at the top and bottom. Along the sides the unit has vertical members and tassel-like pieces, and it is apparently hung from a strand of round beads. One of the comparisons that I made earlier is with chest ornaments worn by figures on late Postclassic Chen Mul Modeled effigy censers found at Mayapan (Smith 1971, 2, figs. 67e, 72c1). Thompson’s opinion was that the “draughtmanship [seen in the manuscript] is surely far too good to be of middle or late Mayapan period” (Thompson 1972, 15). However, I would say his view was shaped by the then-common perception of the late Postclassic as a decadent period (for a refutation, see Sabloff and Rathje 1975, 73). In a review of the development of the figure effigy censers at Mayapan and other settlements, Susan Milbrath and Carlos Peraza Lope (2013) have also commented on the similarity of the Dresden 26a pectoral to those on Chen Mul Modeled censers. They additionally confirm the late date of the vessels (Tases ceramic complex, AD 1250/1300–1450). 6. This is because the 360-day tun is composed of eighteen 20-day units and therefore is evenly divisible by both 18 and 20. 7. The Spanish text is “Entre la muchedumbre de dioses que esta gente adoraba, adoraban cuatro llamados Bacab cada uno de ellos. Estos, decían eran cuatro hermanos a los cuales puso Dios, cuando crió el mundo, a las cuatro partes de él sustentando el cielo (para que) no se cayese” (Garibay 1959, 62).

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8. These intervals are represented by the hieroglyphs for the day names of the tzolkin sequence, separated by large dots for the intervening twelve days. The use of twelve-day intervals in the central Mexican calendar is also seen in the Borgia yearbearer pages (chapter 11, this volume). 9. An early statement that the male figure in the center scene of the Madrid Codex illustration is a creator (God D), seen with his creator companion, Ix Chel, is found in Thompson 1971 [1950], 83. The continuation of his comments on the following page associates Ix Chel with the moon. He subsequently reiterated his identification of the deities in this codex scene as a creator pair (Thompson 1970, 205). In more general terms, this passage elaborates that “although Itzam Na, ‘Iguana House,’ was primarily a reptilian configuration, in his role as a creator he seems to have been depicted in human form . . . and was, I believe, the aged God D of the codices” (Thompson 1970, 205). Also, he referred to the “aged sun god in the sky, associated with Itzam Na (God D) and as such at times called Itzam Na Kinich Ahau” (Thompson 1970, 237). The Goddesses I and O, depicted by figures with loincloths seated opposite the Sun God on the east-west axis of the Madrid 76–75 diagram, should be seen as aspects of the deity commonly known as Ix Chel (Paxton 2001b, 145–149). To summarize, all three of these Ix Chel moon goddesses have elements that are both male and female. They wear male loincloths. Nevertheless, the facial features relate them to unambiguously female examples of Ix Chel in the codices that have glyphic labels to establish their identities. This is true of the hair of the center and west goddesses as well. The east figure wears the hair of the west representation of the sun, probably over her own. Other scholars have shown that lunar deities with male traits are known from the Popol Vuh and additional sources. Hence, I see these Madrid constructions as a metaphorical comparison of the moon with the sun, which derives from the fact that in the night sky, the full moon resembles the sun. It is the brightest visible celestial object. I have made further remarks concerning the Madrid diagram and its influence on the pre-Hispanic Yucatec Maya in Paxton 1997 and 2001b. 10. From the description of the New Year ceremonies in the Relación, Michael Coe (1965, 99–103) developed an insightful explanation of pre-Hispanic Maya community organization that was grounded in this quadripartite division of the directions. His analysis presumes that the translation of the Relación refers to the cardinal points, and he does not discuss the importance of solar elements. Indeed, the placement of the glyphs for the directions in the Madrid diagram corresponds with the cardinal points. Yet my understanding is that although these were recognized in the pre-Hispanic system, the divisions of the directions occurred at the solstice corners, which are actually intercardinal directions, not cardinal directions. 11. As Milbrath (2023) has noted, several explanations for the significance of the columns of tzolkin dates along the left sides of the four pages have been proposed. I 366

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follow the Thompson (1972, 89) interpretation because it is consistent with known practice, i.e., the description in the Relación. My view is that the key points in the colonial record are found in the following passage: For celebrating the festival of the New Year, this people with great rejoicing and great dignity according to their unhappy ideas made use of the five unlucky days, which were regarded by them as such before the first day of the new year. And in these days they held many services for the Bacabs . . . and for the god whom they called, as well as the Bacabs, by four other names, which are Kan u Uayeyab, Chac u Uayeyab, Sac u Uayeyab, and Ek u Uayeyab. These services and feasts over . . . they began the new year and its festivals. (Tozzer 1941, 138–139) Tozzer (1941, 139n645) drew attention to the fact that the rituals occurred before the first day of the new year. On account of the generally cyclical organization of the Maya calendar system and the continuities that were built into transitions between periods and their successor intervals, I would say that the columns plausibly link the last day of the old year with the first day of the incoming year. 12. For discussion of how the opossum is perceived by other Mesoamerican cultures, see López Austin (1993). 13. The exact source of the information from Thompson is not mentioned in the dictionary, and it may well have been as a personal communication to one of the compilers. Since Thompson’s first visit to Yucatan occurred in January of 1926 and he died on September 9, 1975 (Graham 1976, 317–318), I have used the latter year for the latest possible date of the definition. 14. The biologist Eduardo Corona Martínez has mentioned (personal communication, July 31, 2019) that the similar common opossum (D. marsupialis) is also found in Yucatan. 15. The information on numbers of births per year is based on data presented by Leila Siciliano Martina (2020), and the short duration of the lifespan of opossums in comparison with other mammals is stated by William J. Krause and Winifred A. Krause (2006, 36). 16. For a recent study of the way concept that is focused on this southern region, see Velásquez García 2020. 17. Pío Pérez did not always identify the sources he copied. One page of The Codex Pérez and the Book of Chilam Balam of Maní includes the phrase “tin hokzah ti uooh,” which was translated by Barrera Vázquez (1939, 75) and interpreted as an indication that the text was taken from hieroglyphs. The complete statement, dated February 15, 1544, is, “I have, here in the village of Bacalar, told you in proper order that which I have learned from the glyphs” (Craine and Reindorp 1979, 115). It is well known that the Chilam Balam texts preserve pre-Hispanic religious knowledge melded with elements

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from Spanish culture (see Paxton 2001a for an introduction to the topic). One section assigns professions and characteristics to people according to their birth dates, but the passage was clearly influenced by European astrology (Craine and Reindorp 1979, 19–38). The quotation from Barrera Vásquez cited here is significant because it is from a part that lists dates according to the tzolkin and the haab without showing any direct links with non-Maya knowledge. 18. The Vienna Dictionary is dated to about 1670 by the repository where it is conserved (Acuña 1993, 14). The second source is the Diccionario de Elementos del Maya Yucateco Colonial, which is composed of words from the Motul Dictionary, the Pío Pérez Dictionary, and the Chilam Balam of Chumayel (Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 32a). 19. Bartolomé José del  Granado Baeza (1845, 6, from an 1813 report), who was a priest in Yaxcaba, Yucatan, recounted how a young girl had told him about being changed into a bird by witches. During the night, the group had flown to roost on the roof of Baeza’s house. Lázaro Hilario Tuz Chi and Zelmi Mariza Carrillo Góngora (2019) have recently reported an event in Tiholop, Yucatan, that involved what was described to them as an armadillo way. The Universidad de Oriente investigators were called to Tiholop because a pre-Hispanic burial with polychrome ceramics, including a piece with a hieroglyphic text that mentions an armadillo, had been discovered by residents. Tuz and Carrillo were told that an armadillo had been seen in the vicinity of the burial before it was discovered and that the animal had disappeared shortly after its opening. The explanation of the coinciding circumstances given by the locals was that the armadillo had been the way of the interred human. 20. The Spanish definitions are as follows: winik: hombre . . . mujer . . . individuo winikhal: hacerse hombre y formarse la criatura . . . formarse cualquier animal racional o irracional . . . humanarse (from Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 923) pixan: alma que da vida al cuerpo del hombre (ah) pixan: animal que tiene alma racional (from Barrera Vásquez et al. 1980, 659)

REFERENCES

Acuña, René (ed.). 1993. Bocabulario de Maya Than. Codex Vindobonensis N. S. 3833. Facsímil y transcripción crítica anotada. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. Aveni, Anthony F. 2001. Skywatchers. Austin: University of Texas Press. Revised and updated version of Skywatchers of Ancient Mexico, 1980.

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Baeza, Bartolomé José del Granado. 1845. “Los Indios de Yucatan.” Registro Yucateco, 1:165–178. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=hvd.hnilpi;view=1up;seq=169. Barrera Vásquez, Alfredo. 1939. “El Códice Pérez.” Revista Mexicana de Estudios Antropológicos 3:69–83. Barrera Vásquez, Alfredo, Juan Ramón Bastarrachea Manzano, and William Brito Sansores (eds.), with the collaboration of Refugio Vermont Salas, David Dzul Góngora, and Domingo Dzul Poot. 1980. Diccionario Maya Cordemex: MayaEspañol, Español-Maya. Merida, Yucatan: Ediciones Cordemex. Betteridge, Harold T. (ed.). 1978. Cassell’s German-English English-German Dictionary. London: Cassell; New York: Macmillan. Bricker, Harvey M., and Victoria R. Bricker. 2011. Astronomy in the Maya Codices. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Bricker, Victoria R. 1986. A Grammar of Mayan Hieroglyphs. Publication 56. New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Coe, Michael D. 1965. “A Model of Ancient Community Structure in the Maya Lowlands.” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 21:97–114. Craine, Eugene R., and Reginald C. Reindorp (trans. and eds.). 1979. The Codex Perez and the Book of Chilam Balam of Maní. Norman: Univerity of Oklahoma Press. Feest, Christian F. 1990. “Vienna’s Mexican Treasures: Aztec, Mixtec, and Tarascan Works from Sixteenth-Century Austrian Collections.” Archiv für Völkerkunde 44:1–64. Förstemann, Ernst (ed.). 1880. Die Maya Handschrift der königlichen öffentlichen Bibliothek zu Dresden. Leipzig: Verlag der A. Naumann’schen Lichtdruckerei. Also see images of the codex pages at http://www.famsi.org/mayawriting/codices/pdf/dres den_fors_schele_all.pdf. Foster, George. 1944. “Nagualism in Mexico and Guatemala.” Acta Americana 2 (1–2): 85–103. Garibay K., Ángel María (ed.). 1959. Relación de las cosas de Yucatan. Por el P. Fray Diego de Landa Obiso de esa Diocesis. 9th ed. Mexico City: Editorial Porrúa. Gove, Philip Babcock (ed.). 1961. Webster’s Third New International Dictionary of the English Language. Unabridged. Springfield, MA: Merriam-Webster. Graham, Ian. 1976. “John Eric Sidney Thompson. 1898–1975.” American Anthropologist 78:317–320. Houston, Stephen, and David Stuart. 1989. The Way Glyph: Evidences for “Co-essences” among the Classic Maya. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 30. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Klein, Cecilia, Eulogio Guzman, Elisa C. Mandell, Maya Stanfield-Mazzi, and Josephine Volpe. 2001. “Shamanitis: An Art Historical Disease.” In The Concept T H E N EW Y E A R PAG ES O F T H E D R ES D EN CO D EX A N D T H E CO N C EP T O F CO - ES S EN C E

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of Shamanism: Uses and Abuses, edited by Henri-Paul Francfort and Roberte N. Hamayon in collaboration with Paul G. Bahn, 207–241. Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó. Klein, Cecelia F., Eulogio Guzmán, Elisa C. Mandell, and Maya Stanfield-Mazzi. 2002. “The Role of Shamanism in Mesoamerican Art: A Reassessment.” Current Anthropology 44 (3): 383–419. Krause, William J., and Winifred A. Krause. 2006. The Opossum: Its Amazing Story. Columbia: University of Missouri, Department of Pathology and Anatomical Sciences, School of Medicine. https://www.uaex.edu/environment-nature/wildlife /docs/The_Opossum_Its_Amazing_Story.pdf. Lacadena, Alfonso. 1997. “Bilingüismo en el Códice de Madrid.” Los investigadores de la cultura maya 5:184–204. Lee, Thomas A., Jr. (ed.). 1985. Los Códices Mayas. Tuxtla, Gutierrez: Universidad Autónoma de Chiapas. López Austin, Alfredo. 1993. The Myths of the Opossum: Pathways of Mesoamerican Mythology. Translated by Bernard R. Ortiz de Montellano and Thelma Ortiz de Montellano. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. López Austin, Alfredo. 1999. “Los animales como personajes del mito.” Arqueología Mexicana 35:48–55. López Austin, Alfredo. 2012. “La fauna maravillosa de Mesoamérica (una clasificación).” In Animales de Dios, edited by Alfredo López Austin and Luis Millones, 27–80. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Asemblea de Rectores. Macri, Martha J., and Gabrielle Vail. 2009. The New Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Vol. 2, The Codical Texts. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Martina, Leila Siciliano. 2020. “Didelphis virginiana: Virginia Opossum.” The Animal Diversity Web. https://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Didelphis_virginiana/. Michelon, Oscar (ed.). 1976. Diccionario de San Francisco. Graz, Austria: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt. Milbrath, Susan. 2023. “Imagery of the Yearbearers in Maya Culture and Beyond.” In The Materialization of Time in the Ancient Maya World: Mythic History and Ritual Order, edited by David A. Freidel, Arlen F. Chase, Anne S. Dowd, and Jerry Murdock. Gainesville: University of Florida Press. Milbrath, Susan, and Carlos Peraza Lope. 2013. “Mayapan’s Chen Mul Modeled Effigy Censers: Iconography and Archaeological Context.” In Ancient Maya Pottery: Classification, Analysis, and Interpretation, edited by James J. Aimers, 203–228. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Monaghan, John. 1998. “The Person, Destiny, and the Construction of Difference in Mesoamerica.” Res: Anthropology and Aesthetics 33:137–146. 370

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Paxton, Merideth. 1986. “Codex Dresden: Stylistic and Iconographic Analysis of a Maya Manuscript.” PhD diss., University of New Mexico. Paxton, Merideth. 1991. “Codex Dresden: Late Postclassic Ceramic Depictions and the Problems of Provenience and Date of Painting.” In Sixth Palenque Round Table, 1986, edited by Merle Greene Robertson and Virginia M. Fields, 303–308. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Paxton, Merideth. 1994. “La relación de las cosas de Yucatan, por Diego de Landa: el desarrollo de un documento etnohistórico.” In Códices y Documentos sobre México: Primer Simposio, edited by Constanza Vega Sosa, 69–89. Colección Científica, Serie Historia. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia. Paxton, Merideth. 1997. “Códice Madrid: análisis de las páginas 75–76.” In Códices y Documentos sobre México: Segundo Simposio, edited by Salvador Rueda Smithers, Constanza Vega Sosa, and Rodrigo Martínez Baracs, 1:63–80. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia and Dirección General de Publicaciones del Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes. Paxton, Merideth. 2001a. “Chilam Balam, Books of.” In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures: The Civilizations of Mexico and Central America, edited by Davíd Carrasco, 1:190–195. New York: Oxford University Press. Paxton, Merideth. 2001b. The Cosmos of the Yucatec Maya: Cycles and Steps from the Madrid Codex. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Paxton, Merideth. 2010. “Solar-based Cartographic Traditions of the Mexica and the Yucatec Maya.” In Astronomers, Scribes, and Priests: Intellectual Interchange between the Northern Maya Lowlands and Highland Mexico in the Late Postclassic Period, edited by Gabrielle Vail and Christine Hernández, 279–308. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Paxton, Merideth. 2019. “Animales y esencias compartidas en los códices mayas prehispánicos: el significado del jeroglífico T572.” Revista Etnobiología 17 (2): 89–106. Paxton, Merideth. 2022. “El Códice de Dresde como documento del Posclásico Tardío: Análisis visual en el desarrollo del concepto.” Estudios de Cultura Maya 59 (Primavera-verano): 117–148. https://revistas-filologicas.unam.mx/estudios-cultura -maya/index.php/ecm/index. Roys, Ralph L. 1967 [1933]. The Book of Chilam Balam of Chumayel. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Sabloff, Jeremy A., and William J. Rathje. 1975. “The Rise of a Maya Merchant Class.” Scientific American 233 (4): 73–82. Schele, Linda, and Nikolai Grube. 1997. The Proceedings of the Maya Hieroglyphic Workshop: The Dresden Codex. Transcribed and edited by Phil Wanyerka. Austin, TX: Maya Workshop Foundation, Inc.

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Smith, Robert Eliot. 1971. The Pottery of Mayapan, Including Studies of Ceramic Material from Uxmal, Kabah, and Chichen Itza. 2 vols. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 66. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University. Stuart, David. 1987. Ten Phonetic Syllables. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 14. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Stuart, David. 2002. “Comment.” In “The Role of Shamanism in Mesoamerican Art: A Reassessment,” by Cecelia F. Klein, Eulogio Guzmán, Elisa C. Mandell, and Maya Stanfield-Mazzi, 410–411. Current Anthropology 44 (3): 383–419. Taube, Karl. 1988. “The Ancient Yucatec New Year Festival: The Liminal Period in Maya Ritual and Cosmology.” 2 vols. PhD diss., Yale University. Taube, Karl. 1992. The Major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Studies in Pre-Columbian Art and Archaeology 32. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1939. The Moon Goddess in Middle America, with Notes on Related Deities. Contributions to American Anthropology and History 29. Washington, DC: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1962. A Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1970. Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1971 [1950]. Maya Hieroglyphic Writing, An Introduction. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1972. A Commentary on the Dresden Codex: A Maya Hieroglyphic Book. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Tozzer, Alfred M. (trans. and ed.). 1941. Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatan: A Translation. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 18. Cambridge, MA: Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology. Tuz Chi, Lázaro Hilario, and Zelmi Mariza Carrillo Góngora. 2019. “El señor transfigurado: las ofrendas funerarias del señor Waay de Tiholop, danza, sacrificio, y muerte.” Paper presented at the XI Congreso Internacional de Mayistas, Chetumal, Quintana Roo, June 23–29. Velásquez García, Erik. 2020. “New Ideas about the Wahysis Spirits Painted on Maya Vessels: Sorcery, Maladies, and Dream Feasts in Prehispanic Art.” PARI Journal 20 (4): 15–28. Wald, Robert F. 2004. “The Languages of the Dresden Codex: Legacy of the Classic Maya.” In The Linguistics of Maya Writing, edited by Søren Wichmann, 27–58. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. 372

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13 Scholars have long recognized that certain Meso- Animal Manifestations american deities appear in animal as well as anthropo- of the Creator Deities in the Maya Codices morphic form (see Bassie-Sweet 2008, chap. 7; Taube 1992; Thompson 1970, chap.  7). The Maya creator and the Popol Vuh Itzamna, for example, has aspects corresponding to a bird, a turtle, and a crocodile, while the aged “God L” Gabrielle Vail and may be linked to the opossum in its anthropomorphic form and to the owl. Several of these animals, includ- Allen Christenson ing the opossum, turtle, and crocodilian, are named by compound terms that include the prefix designated T63 or T64 (Thompson 1962, 446) or PT4 (Macri and Vail 2009, 110–111), best known for its relationship to an aged deity with a human-like appearance, called God N in the Maya codices. Proposals for reading the netted headdress include a reading of pawah (the prefix to the name Pawahtun, once believed to be the name of God N; Taube 1989b; 1992, 92–99), itzam (Stuart 2007), or xiw (Stuart 2007). Most epigraphers today subscribe to the view that it reads itzam (see, e.g., Tokovinine 2017, 10; Matthew Looper, personal communication, August, 24, 2021). Support for this reading is provided by the fact that there are several references in the Dresden Codex Venus table to a creature named with the netted headdress, followed by the glyph that is read ayin (“crocodile”). This most likely refers to the being named Itzam Kab’ Ayin (spelled Itzam cab ain in colonial sources), meaning “Itzam Earth Alligator” (Taube 1989a).1 Further support for this interpretation will be discussed below. https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c013

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The Popol Vuh, an early colonial manuscript from the K’iche’ region of highland Guatemala, shows similar patterning whereby the aged creator gods are linked to various animal counterparts, several of which are associated with a particular nominal prefix (Hunahpu). For example, the female creator goddess, Xmucane, is associated with two animals, the coyote and the coatimundi, while the male creator god, Xpiyacoc, is linked with at least three animals: the turtle (the coc in his name means “turtle”), the opossum, and the peccary. The Maya codices and the Popol Vuh both stem from indigenous traditions of recording narratives, almanacs, and prognostications in written form. Codices—screenfold books containing almanacs and astronomical tables that combine hieroglyphic texts, pictorial imagery, and calendrical notations—were common throughout the Maya area in the late Postclassic period (ca. 1250–1521), as reports by Spanish clerics and administrators make clear (Tozzer 1941, 78). Evidence for their earlier use in the form of pictorial representations and of tools for creating them is abundant, although only rare examples have survived; none, unfortunately, is in a condition to allow analysis of their contents (see Vail 2015b). Of the Postclassic examples reported, only three are known from the northern Maya lowlands—the Dresden, Madrid, and Paris codices, named for the cities where they are currently housed.2 Little is known about their histories prior to being discovered in Europe, but we can assume they were included in shipments of “curiosities,” as examples of idolatrous practice, or as part of the Royal Fifth owed to the Spanish Crown (Bricker and Bricker 2011, chap. 1; Coe 1989; Chuchiak 2004; Vail 2006). Because indigenous forms of writing were forbidden by the Spanish colonizers, new traditions emerged during the colonial period, as the Maya nobility were trained in reading and writing in the Latin alphabet. New genres appeared during this time, including narratives recounting the histories of various communities and/or lineages, which were often combined with creation accounts, prophecies, and other types of information (Bricker and Miram 2002, 82–88; Knowlton 2010, chap. 1). Those that are most relevant to our discussion include the Yucatecan Books of Chilam Balam, or the Jaguar Prophet, and the Popol Vuh, composed by surviving members of the highland K’iche’ Maya soon after the Spanish conquest. The former were associated with specific towns in Yucatan, including places such as Chumayel, Ixil, Kaua, Maní, and Tizimín, whereas the Popol Vuh was written by members of the Kaweq family, the ruling lineage of the K’iche’ Maya that resided at their capital city of Q’umarkaj (Christenson 2007, 37). In the discussion that follows, we comment on aspects of creator deities found in both the Maya codices and the Popol Vuh that are zoomorphic in 374

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Figure 13.1. Itzamna and God N on Madrid 85a–86a (frames 1 and 3), both holding captives with a rope and wearing the T64 netted headdress. After Brasseur de Bourbourg (1869–1870, plates 27 and 28).

form or hybrid forms involving human and animal characteristics. We begin with the Maya codices, as the older tradition, and move from there to a consideration of the Popol Vuh. Our analysis documents some interesting correspondences that have received little attention prior to now.

CREATOR DEITIES IN THE MAYA CODICES AND THE POPOL VUH

Researchers have commented extensively on the animal aspects of certain deities in the Maya codices, primarily those associated with the Yucatec male creator Itzamna and the deity labeled God N by Paul Schellhas, identified for many years as Pawahtun, the name of a set of quadripartite deities referenced in colonial Yucatec texts, as well as in Bishop Diego de Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatan (Tozzer 1941). More recently, God N has been interpreted by some researchers as a form of Itzamna (Bassie-Sweet 2008, chap. 7; Stuart 2007). Although both are depicted as elderly, the two may be distinguished in various ways, one of the most distinctive differences being the treatment of their eyes (figure 13.1). Itzamna shares an eye type with the rain god Chaak, the god of lightning and sustenance K’awiil, and the sun god K’in Ahaw. God N, on the other hand, has a “human” eye like that of the maize god and the flower/wind deity (Bassie-Sweet 2008, 132; Vail 1996, 199). To better understand the relationship of these deities, it is necessary to examine the naming patterns associated with the two of them, which show A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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very little overlap. Itzamna (or God D in the Schellhas [1904] system) is named almost exclusively with a compound glyph that appears to have the value itzamna in the codices (Taube 1988, 239; Vail 1996, 256–259), whereas God N is most commonly named with the netted prefix (itzam?), followed by the sign T528, logographic tun (“stone”) or sihoom (“flower; a type of plant in the milpa”) (Boot 2002, 71), and T548, reading haab’, a reference to the 365-day year. God N’s glyph may include a prefix of “4” (likely referring to the quadripartite aspect of this figure) or “5,” which is consistent with the fact that this deity is the god of the number 5. The portrait glyph of “5” includes the haab’ glyph as a headdress, as is also seen with certain examples of God N in the codices.3 Despite some overlapping associations (in particular involving their animal aspects), we contend that a distinctive naming pattern and appearance serve to distinguish God N from Itzamna.4 The nature of their relationship is discussed in more detail in a later section of the chapter. The netted glyph, worn as a headdress by God N on nine (possibly ten) occasions, only occurs as a headdress worn by two other figures: the opossum once on Madrid 68a and Itzamna on Madrid 86a. In hieroglyphic captions it is paired with various animal glyphs, in addition to the other glyphs (haab’ and possibly tun) noted above, including the turtle shell five times, associated with pictures of God N (once), Chaak (twice), God M (once), and a figure representing a conflation of God N and Chaak (once); with the opossum glyph (och) six times (once with God L; once with an opossum; and the other times in captions without associated pictures);5 and with the ayin (“crocodile”) glyph three times, all of which refer to a picture of God N wearing a crocodile headdress on Dresden 46a. Some overlap appears to occur in terms of the animal manifestations associated with Itzamna and God N in the Maya codices. They both appear associated—or conflated with—a bird with deity attributes (Knowlton and Vail 2010, 719), sometimes referred to as the Principal Bird Deity (Martin 2015; Taube 1987; see also Klein, chapter 3, this volume);6 a crocodilian (Taube 1989a; Vail and Hernández 2013, chap. 5; see also Klein, chapter 3, this volume); a turtle (Knowlton and Vail 2010; Martin 2015; Taube 1992, 92–96); and an opossum (Bassie-Sweet 2008, 135; Taube 1989c; see also Paxton, chapter 12, this volume) (figure 13.2). Leaving aside the question of what the netted prefix signifies, we turn next to a consideration of the Yucatec female creator Chak Chel in the Maya codices, who appears at times with a “deity” eye and at others with an almondshaped human eye (figure 13.3; Taube 1992, 99–105; Vail 1996, 198–199). This is reminiscent, in certain respects, of the distinctions we see between Itzamna 376

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Figure 13.2. Animal aspects of creator deities: (a) Itzam Kab’ Ayin in upper register on Dresden 46a; (b) Turtle aspect of God N on Dresden 37a. After Förstemann (1880).

and God N, only in this instance the two aspects of Chak Chel (also known as Goddess O) are linked by the same name. It may even be fair to say that there are three aspects of Chak Chel—one with a human eye/appearance, one with a “deity” eye, and one with a “deity” eye and animal attributes (clawed hands and feet, which have been associated with a jaguar, along with red coloration), seen especially in those scenes in which she is associated with destructive rains. At other times she is depicted bringing life-giving rains, usually in conjunction with the rain god Chaak (Vail and Hernández 2013, chap.  6; Vail and Stone 2002, fig. 11.1). Chak Chel is named with Itzamna’s glyph on two occasions; in both she has the “deity” eye and is paired (in the adjacent frame) with an aspect of the death deity. A deity we identify as Chak Chel in her “human” form appears paired with Itzamna twice on Madrid 75–76, in both the quadrant associated with the west and the central panel of an almanac that shows sacrificial rituals associated with the four directional quadrants (Vail 2004, 242–243; Vail 2009, 107). In the latter, A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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the two appear seated beneath what has been identified as a stylized world tree.7 The almanac as a whole has been linked to the laying out of time and space, and Vail (2009, 107) argues that its central panel depicts the seeds used to create humans. The K’iche’ creator couple, Xmucane and Xpiyacoc, were likewise involved in creating people from maize seeds, which were ground nine times by Xmucane (Christenson 2007, 194–195). Xmucane and Xpiyacoc are described by a variety of titles in the Popol Vuh, certain of which refer to their animal aspects.

Figure 13.3. (a) Chak Chel in her human aspect on Dresden 39b; (b) Chak Chel in her “animal” aspect on Dresden 67a. After Förstemann (1880).

Here we shall gather the manifestation, the declaration, the account of the sowing and the dawning by the Framer and the Shaper, She Who Has Borne Children and He Who Has Begotten Sons, as they are called; along with Hunahpu Possum and Hunahpu Coyote, Great White Peccary and Coati. . . . These collectively are evoked and given expression as the Midwife and the Patriarch, whose names are Xpiyacoc and Xmucane. (Christenson 2007, 60–62)

The K’iche’ convention is to list female deities or titles before the male paired deity or title. Thus in this passage “She Who Has Borne Children” appears before “He Who Has Begotten Sons,” and “Midwife” appears before “Patriarch.” Yet when paired titles are given for the creator deities, the authors of the Popol Vuh consistently reverse the order of their proper names to form a chiasm, or mirrored parallelism. Thus “Midwife” and “Patriarch” are listed in the expected order, but the order of their proper names is reversed—ABBA: 378

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I’yom

Midwife

Mamom

Patriarch

Xpiyacoc

Xpiyacoc

Xmucane

Xmucane

(Christenson 2003, lines 32–35)

It is unclear why this is so in the Popol Vuh, but paired titles throughout the text consistently begin with the female aspect, followed by the associated proper names of the creator deities listed in reverse order from the convention. This mirrored parallelism is also true in the case of their animal counterparts: Alom

She Who Has Borne Children

K’ajolom

He Who Has Begotten Sons

Hunahpu Wuch’

Hunahpu Possum

Hunajpu Utiw Saqi Nim Aq Sis

Hunahpu Coyote White Great Peccary Coati

(Christenson 2003, lines 18–23)

Here possum and peccary are listed before coyote and coati, although it is obvious from the text that the peccary and possum are aspects of the male deity. Thus later in the Popol Vuh the creator couple are specifically linked to their animal counterparts, then referred to in reverse order as “Grandmother and Grandfather”: “Great White Peccary was the name of the Grandfather, and Great White Coati was the name of the Grandmother. The boys then spoke to the Grandmother and the Grandfather” (Christenson 2007, 98). Coati and peccary are paired six times in the Popol Vuh. In some cases, coati and peccary are listed together in order to refer to all wild mammals generally, in keeping with the common practice of the authors of the Popol Vuh, who use paired opposites to refer to a larger concept, such as mountain/plain to refer to the entire face of the earth, or turkey/dog to refer to all domesticated animals, and so forth. When not specifically linked to the creator couple, the female coati comes before the male peccary, following the custom of naming the female first (Christenson 2007, 173). It is unusual for deities to be linked with two animals rather than one in the Popol Vuh. Why this is so with regard to Xmucane and Xpiyacoc appears to be related to the fact that both day and night aspects of the creators are being emphasized. Xmucane has associations with the coati (day) and coyote (night), A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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whereas Xpiyacoc is linked to the peccary (day) and opossum (night) (figure 13.4). These associations may be seen, for example, in the Popol Vuh episode in which the Hero Twins are subjected to a night in the House of Bats by the underworld lords of Xibalba. Following the loss of Hunahpu’s head, the night aspect of Xpiyacoc (in the guise of the possum) delays the dawn long enough for the coati (the day aspect of Xmucane) to prepare a chilacayote gourd to replace Hunahpu’s head. As the text says: Now after many had come, the coati arrived last of all bringing a chilacayote squash. She came rolling it along with her nose. This was to be transformed into the head of Hunahpu. Immediately its eyes were carved upon it. Numerous sages came down from the sky. For Heart of Sky, he who is Huracan, appeared here. He arrived here in Bat House. But the face wasn’t completed successfully in time. Only its beautiful covering had appeared. It only had the ability to speak by the time the horizon of the sky began to redden, for it was about to dawn. “Blacken it again with soot, old man,” the possum was told. “Fine,” replied the Grandfather. And he blackened the sky with soot until it was dark again. Four times the Grandfather blackened it with soot. Thus today people say, “The possum blackens it with soot.” (Christenson 2007, 173–174)

Hunahpu is later apotheosized as the sun and his brother as the moon (Christenson 2007, 191); therefore this episode has a larger cosmological aspect, indicating that the dawn needed to be delayed until the proto-sun (Hunahpu) could appear with his head restored by Xmucane in her guise as the daybearing coati. Heads and faces are particularly important in this respect in the Popol Vuh text. Indeed, one of the titles of the first four progenitors of the K’iche’ people is K’inich Ajaw (“Sun-faced” or “Resplendent Lord”) (Christenson 2007, 203n505). In the Maya codices rarely do we see animal aspects of the primordial deities (here identified as Itzamna, God N, and Chak Chel in her multiple manifestations); when they do appear, they are more often associated with the male figures than with Chak Chel. There are a several possible correspondences between Xpiyacoc and Itzamna (and also God N) in the codices, including associations with turtle and opossum aspects.8 Moreover, Itzamna, like Xpiyacoc, has a connection with peccaries in various Classic-period contexts (Taube 1992, 31). In the discussion that follows we consider animal manifestations of the primordial codical deities as opossums and peccaries, which leads to a discussion of crocodilians as another shared aspect seen in the Maya codices and the Popol Vuh. 380

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Figure 13.4. Daytime aspects of Xmucane and Xpiyacoc as coati (upper left) and peccary (upper right); nighttime aspects of Xmucane and Xpiyacoc as coyote (lower left) and opossum (lower right). Photographs by Allen Christenson (coati); Charlie Jackson (collared peccary), La Selva Biological Station, Costa Rica, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 generic license; Nadine Herbst (coyote), Pixabay.com; Greg Schechter (Virginia opossum), Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 generic license.

Opossums

In both Maya and central Mexican narratives, opossums are linked to the dawn or to the darkness of night just prior to the dawn (Guiteras-Holmes 1961, 195–197; López Austin 1993). It is not known if this is related in some fashion to the black region surrounding their eyes, but it is interesting to note that, in the Maya codices, opossums are often depicted with the glyph ak’b’al, meaning “night” or “darkness” in place of their eye (figure 13.5a; Taube 1989c). This recalls the Popol Vuh episode in which Hunahpu requires a new head and the possum is told to blacken the sky again. Here he is referred to as “old man” (Christenson 2007, 173), a moniker that leaves little doubt that the A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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opossum referenced is Xpiyacoc in his manifestation as Hunahpu Possum, the nighttime aspect of Xpiyacoc. Ruud Akkeren (2000, 290) has previously suggested that this emphasis on the dawn may help explain why the opossum plays a role as the figure that brings in the new “yearbearer” deity on pages 25–28 in the Dresden Codex, which concerns the transition from one year to the next (figure 13.5b). The relevant pages reflect a four-part cycle repeated thirteen times, to make up the 52-year cycle of yearbearers, representing day signs that name the year. The opossum is depicted as a priest or performer with a serpent staff topped by a human hand as well as a fan or rattle, incense bag, and shell tinklers (see Paxton, chapter 12, this volume, regarding this figure). He wears a distinctive headdress and skirt of cloth or paper strips and is named in the text as the Mam, a term meaning “grandfather” (Taube 1988, 226–233). In another almanac associated with yearbearer dates and imagery, the rain god Chaak is portrayed with the staff and headdress of the Mam (figure 13.5c). The text relates that the footsteps of Chaak stop in the east (lak’in wa’alaj yook chaak), and goes on to name the associated prophecies as drought (k’in tun ha’abil) and sudden fire (k’ak’ chetun). In another context (Dresden 7a) the deity God L, who is closely related to Chaak in certain almanacs in the Maya codices (see Vail and Hernández 2013, 433–436), is named with the opossum title. In central Mexican accounts opossums are linked to the theft of fire (López Austin 1993), which may explain the scenes in the Maya codices in which they hold torches (torches are also associated with Chaak in various contexts, including the almanac on Dresden 31b–35b, see figure 13.5c). One of these occurs in the last frame of the almanac on Madrid 89a–90a, which pictures an opossum holding two torches aloft within a thatched roof structure (see figure 13.5a). The text specifies that the figure pictured is ah kab’-ch’en(?) (“he of the earth-cave(?)”), or what Vail and Hernández (2012; 2013, 288–289) interpret as the cave of origin. This underworld location makes sense for a nocturnal animal associated with the origin of fire. We also see a reference in the text to the opossum actor, who is named with a prefix that may be a simplified form of T64/PT4 (although it also resembles the phonetic glyph /pa/), followed by what appears to be the logograph och. If the former is intended as an abbreviated form of T64/PT4, this leads to a reading of Itzam? Och, clearly an analog to Hunahpu Possum in the Popol Vuh. Another example of this term being used in reference to an anthropomorphic opossum appears on Madrid 68a. Although somewhat eroded, the figure may be clearly seen wearing the netted Itzam? headdress, which also appears in the hieroglyphic caption (in the upper right). That the figure is an opossum is made clear by the ak’b’al 382

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Figure 13.5. (a) Opossum associated with the central direction, here identified by the term kab’ ch’en? (“earth-cave(?)”) on Madrid 90a. After Brasseur de Bourbourg (1869–1870, plate 23). (b) Opossum Mam carrying the yearbearer patron K’awiil on Dresden 25a. After Förstemann (1880). (c) Chaak with accoutrements of Mam on Dresden 31b. After Förstemann (1880).

infix seen just below the headdress. Like Hunahpu Possum in the Popol Vuh, Itzam? Opossum also has associations with nighttime and darkness, and possibly with the underworld. Other examples of interest occur in the almanac on pages 87a–88a of the Madrid Codex, in which four of the five frames show the domination (or capture) of prisoners by grasping their hair (figure 13.6a). Opossums play this A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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Figure 13.6. (a) Scenes of capture/dominance involving T64 (Itzam?) Opossum and Itzamna on Madrid 87a–88a. After Brasseur de Bourbourg (1869–1870, plates 25 and 26). (b) Huehuecoyotl mounting a male figure on Codex Borgia 10. After Loubat (1898), Wikimedia Commons.

role in frames 2, 4, and 5, whereas Itzamna appears in place of the opossum in the fourth frame. In each of the relevant scenes the opossums seem to be mounting their captives, in what we interpret as a sign of dominance, with possible sexual overtones. A study by Vail and Dupey García (2019) comparing the Codex Vaticanus B with the Madrid Codex calls attention to a similar scene on Codex Borgia 10 in which the animal avatar of Tezcatlipoca—the coyote deity known as Huehuecoyotl—is mounting a male figure in front of him (figure 13.6b). This fits well with the characterization of Huehuecoyotl as hypersexual in nature (see also Milbrath, chapter 11, this volume). The similarity in behavior seen in these examples involving an opossum and coyote recalls the epithets Hunahpu Possum and Hunahpu Coyote associated with Xpiyacoc and Xmucane in the Popol Vuh. The two animals are linked 384

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because of similarities in their natures and the fact that each has associations with nighttime and darkness. Like the opossum, the coyote in deity form (Huehuecoyotl among Nahuatl speakers) is also associated with great age (hue hue means “very old”). This prefix was applied to figures revered for their wisdom and insights linked with old age (Olivier 1999), thereby paralleling, in certain respects, the use of Hunahpu with Possum and Coyote in the Popol Vuh to refer to aspects of the creator deities.9 We propose that the Yucatec Maya term signified by the T64/PT4 netted headdress served a similar purpose. As previously discussed, in addition to appearing with the aged God N in the Maya codices, it is also prefixed to the names of various animals, including och (“opossum”), ak or mak (“turtle”), and ayin (“crocodilian”), each of them having links to depictions of both Itzamna and God N in the Maya codices. It occurs in the names of various time periods as well—k’in (“day” or “sun”); haab’ (“365-day year”); and tun (“360-day year” or “stone”)—again with links to the aged deity in human form (God N).10 The haab’ sign also occurs in the glyph signifying the deity representing “5,” where it is worn as a headdress. Similarly, the haab’ glyph is worn as a headdress by certain examples of God N (and the related figure God P) in the codices. We propose that here, rather than referring to the 365-day year, it instead has a broader connotation of “time.”11 If that is the case, then God N would share this characteristic with the Nahuatl god Xiuhtecuhtli, who was the god of the year (xihuitl signifies “year”), and of time itself (Miller and Taube 1993, 190). Xiuhtecuhtli also represents a god of hearths and fire, and therefore overlaps with the ancient god of fire, Huehueteotl. As previously noted, hue hue is an honorific that refers to extreme age, but also has the sense of “one possessing great wisdom”; in addition to being used with Huehueteotl, it is associated with Huehuecoyotl (“old coyote”), described above. It may therefore be the case that God N was seen as the “grandfather,” much as is true of the male creator Xpiyacoc in the Popol Vuh. This would fit well with the designation of “Mam” (spelled phonetically as /ma-ma/) used in connection with the opossum figures on Dresden 25–28.12 Peccaries

As previously mentioned, one of the principal paired titles that refers to the creators in the Popol Vuh is Great White Peccary and Great White Coati, both having associations with the daytime. According to the text, there was a prideful god named Seven Macaw who boasted that he was the sun in the darkened age before the first true dawn: A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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“Thus I am the sun. I am the moon as well for those who are born in the light, those who are begotten in the light. “Then be it so. My vision reaches far,” said Seven Macaw. Now Seven Macaw was not truly the sun, but he puffed himself up in this way because of his plumage and his gold and his silver. His vision did not reach beyond where he sat. It did not really reach everywhere beneath the sky. Thus Seven Macaw puffed himself up in the days and months before the faces of the sun, moon, and stars could truly be seen. He desired only greatness and transcendence before the light of the sun and moon were revealed in their clarity. (Christenson 2007, 93)

In their day aspects as the Peccary and Coati, the creator grandparents Xpiyacoc and Xmucane helped the Hero Twins to defeat this false sun and take away his wealth and glory, eventually allowing the true sun to dawn: They [the Hero Twins] went to speak to the first Grandfather, whose hair was now truly white, and also the first Grandmother, who was now truly humble. They were people who now walked bent over with age. Great White Peccary was the name of the Grandfather, and Great White Coati was the name of the Grandmother. . . . Thus the wealth of Seven Macaw was lost for the healers took it away—the jewels, the precious stones, and all that which had made him proud here upon the face of the earth. It was truly the enchanted Grandmother and the enchanted Grandfather that did it. (Christenson 2007, 98, 100)

Earlier on, the text suggests that it was only the defeat of the false sun, Seven Macaw, by the creator grandparents that allowed the first people to be created and the true sun to appear. It was only by bringing an end to Seven Macaw’s avarice that the new dawn could be made to happen: “Then his jade, his gold and silver, his jewels, his glittering things, and all things over which he keeps vigil, will come to an end. “May it be done thus, for people cannot be created where only gold and silver are glory.” (Christenson 2007, 95)

Like Xpiyacoc in his peccary aspect, Itzamna also has associations with the daytime world and the sky. In the Relación de  Valladolid, for example, Itzamna is referred to as ah tepal, or the “supreme ruler” of the sky (Taube 1992, 35; Thompson 1970, 229). His name also forms part of that of the sun deity, K’inich Ahaw Itzamna (Kinich Ahau Itzamna in the colonial orthography), in Landa’s account, where he is described as the “first priest” (Tozzer 1941, 153). Indeed, scholars have proposed that this deity (K’inich Ahaw) represents the day aspect of the creator Itzamna (Thompson 1970, 229). 386

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There is a connection between Itzamna and peccaries in Classic-period contexts, where he is depicted riding them, almost as if they were a single creature (Freidel et al. 1993, fig. 2.26). Peccaries moreover have a celestial association, as a depiction of peccaries mating on the Bonampak murals suggests. Freidel and colleagues (1993, 80–81) interpret them as occupying the same part of the sky as the Western constellation Gemini, whereas Harvey and Victoria Bricker (1992, 171–172; see tables 6.5 and 6.6) associate the peccary constellation with the eastern portion of Leo. Images such as these suggest the possibility that peccaries depicted in Maya art embody the creator couple rather than simply the male creator. Turning next to the evidence in the Maya codices, we see peccaries in a number of contexts where they take on the attributes of, or perform activities associated with, specific deities. They appear to be linked most commonly with Chaak and Chak Chel, as the examples below demonstrate. Following a text highlighting events in primordial time on Dresden 60, four images of coiled serpents appear, each disgorging a deity from its open mouth. They are depicted in pairs—Chaak emerging from the gaping jaws of the first serpent, painted blue, and a rabbit from the second. Chaak is again pictured emerging from the third serpent, followed by a peccary from the fourth. The two scenes that include Chaak have associations with water, as the serpent’s body is painted blue in the first, and Chaak holds his lightning axe (a symbol of rain) upright in the second. It may be significant that the peccary’s body is also painted blue, and both it and the rabbit wear the same headdress as that of the opossum Mam performers on Dresden 25–28. Whether this designates them as primordial beings as well remains unknown.13 The blue coloration of the peccary is suggestive of water, perhaps signifying a rainy season aspect. This is of particular interest as the caption includes a reference to Ix (?) Chel, another appellative for Chak Chel, and Chak Chel has clear associations as a rain bringer, as does Chaak. This may help to explain the scene on Madrid 30b, where a female goddess—likely Chak Chel based on the serpent headdress and spindle wound with cotton thread, but here appearing with distended lips—emits water from her body, as do the peccary and jaguar she is holding. The presence of a blue-painted Chaak seated at her feet in the same scene serves to highlight the almanac’s theme of life-giving waters and fertility. Another connection may be drawn between peccaries and opossums. The two are seen seated back to back on Madrid 66b, separated by a post with kab’ markings (indicating the earth and frequently associated with representations of peccaries elsewhere in Maya art). If the same associations hold as seen in the Popol Vuh, then the nighttime aspect of the male creator (the opossum) appears on the left, and his daytime aspect (the peccary) on the A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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Figure 13.7. Mars table on Dresden 43b–45b. After Förstemann (1880).

right. An alternate interpretation is that we see the opossum Mam (associated with God N) on the left and the peccary as an aspect of Chaak on the right. Ethnographic evidence suggests close associations between Chaak and the Mam, as Taube (1992, 96–99) summarizes. A peccary-like creature has been identified with the planet Mars, particularly in its retrograde aspect (figure 13.7; Bricker and Bricker 2011, chap. 10), as seen on Dresden 43b-45b and Madrid 2a. The latter almanac depicts an anthropomorphic figure with certain attributes characterizing peccaries, who appears in alternating scenes holding an axe (with rain falling from a skyband) and a torch. Similar scenes from almanacs in the Dresden Codex show a peccary hanging from a skyband in the rain (on Dresden 68a, discussed below); God N in his turtle aspect standing beneath a skyband in the rain, holding an axe; and an opossum hanging from a skyband and holding torches in its two front “paws” and another from its tail. Similarly, Chaak appears in a number of scenes holding axes or torches, although the skyband is generally not part of these. Harvey and Victoria Bricker have also suggested that the area of the sky occupied by the eastern portion of Leo in the Western zodiacal system corresponds to a peccary among the Yucatec Maya (Bricker and Bricker 2011, 716–718).14 In this light, it is of interest that the rain god Chaak wears a peccary headdress in a scene in which he emerges from the open mouth of a serpent on Dresden 69 (see Vail and Hernández 2018), likely signifying his rise out of the underworld as Venus in its western (evening star) manifestation, as suggested by Chaak’s black coloration.15 Based on this and the other contexts in which they occur, it is possible to suggest a close correspondence between peccaries, Mars, and rain (or the rainy season), as exemplified by Chaak and God N. Moreover, we see a complementary relationship existing between 388

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Figure 13.8. Peccary with crocodilian scales in the central frame of Dresden 68a, suspended from the skyband. After Förstemann (1880).

peccaries and opossums, which is of interest with respect to their associations with Xpiyacoc in the Popol Vuh. Peccaries and Crocodilians

A creature identified as Mars by Victoria and Harvey Bricker (1986) appears on Dresden 68a (figure 13.8) as part of what they call the “seasonal table” (H. Bricker and V. Bricker 2011, 514–520; V. Bricker and H. Bricker 1988). In the frame in question, Mars is depicted in the form of a peccary, although its lower back and tail are covered with the scales of a crocodile.16 The image of Mars suspended from a skyband in the rain brings to mind the scene on Dresden 74 (figure 13.9), which features a crocodilian figure whose mouth belches forth water and whose body forms a skyband. Instead of crocodilian feet, however, the creature has hoofs. While they are usually interpreted as those of a deer (e.g., Taube 1988), it is also possible that they belong to a peccary.17 Why the crocodilian aspect of this being is highlighted on Dresden 74, and the peccary aspect on Dresden 68a, remains a matter for further study. Scholars have previously suggested that the figure on Dresden 74 corresponds to Itzam Kab’ Ayin, an aspect of Itzamna representing the earth in the form of a crocodilian (e.g., Knowlton 2010; Taube 1988, 1989a).18 Another representation of this figure appears on Dresden 4b–5b (figure 13.10a), where it is portrayed as a double-headed creature with Itzamna’s head appearing in its A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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Figure 13.9. Itzam Kab’ Ayin belching forth water on Dresden 74 in the context of an eclipse. After Förstemann (1880).

Figure 13.10. (a) Itzam Kab’ Ayin on Dresden 4b–5b. After Förstemann (1880). (b) Hunt deity God Y, or Sip, wearing a peccary skin on Madrid 39c. After Brasseur de Bourbourg (1869–1870, plate 18).

front jaws (see also the discussion in Klein, chapter 3, this volume). An almanac with a cognate calendrical structure appears on Madrid 39c (Aveni et al. 1995; figure 13.10b), although the two are formatted quite differently and have distinct iconographic programs. Instead of a crocodilian, the Madrid almanac shows what has been interpreted as a peccary with the head of the hunt deity Sip in its mouth, or perhaps the hunt deity wearing a peccary skin.19 A spiked incense burner, in which rubber incense is being burned, appears in front of the figure (see Vail 1997, 75–77), reminiscent of the spiked back of the crocodilian earth. These cognate almanacs serve to reinforce the connection between peccaries and crocodilians among the lowland Postclassic Maya. Both are creatures that inhabit the lower world and are portrayed at times as rising to the sky. In some accounts, such as that cited below, this leads to the creation of the earth (see also Milbrath, chapter 11, this volume). A narrative included in several of the Books of Chilam Balam written in Yucatec Maya during the colonial period describes the crocodilian Itzam Kab’ Ayin ascending to the sky and being sacrificed. This leads to a flood and Itzam Kab’ Ayin’s body being thrown down to form the surface of the earth (Knowlton 2010, 62–65). In recent years various researchers have suggested that Dresden 74 likely portrays this event (Knowlton 2010; Vail and Hernández 2013, 164, 169; Velásquez García 2006).20 Vail and Hernández (2013, 200–201) propose that the depiction on Dresden 68a has parallels to Dresden 74 as well. This is suggested, in part, by their reading of the hieroglyphic caption as paxaj ka’an ?? [Mars “creature”], or “The sky was split by Mars.” The caption continues with a reference to the maize god—pictured in the scene below—in the rain, of the sky darkening, and of the maize god’s offering of food and drink. The verb represented in the hieroglyphic caption (pax) is the root of the name of the mountain Paxil in the Popol Vuh, within which maize and tropical fruits of all kinds were stored—in other words, a place of bounty: Thus they rejoiced over the discovery of that excellent mountain that was filled with delicious things, crowded with yellow ears of maize and white ears of maize. It was crowded as well with pataxte and chocolate, with countless zapotes and anonas, with jocotes and nances, with matasanos and honey. From within the places called Paxil and Cayala came the sweetest foods in the citadel. All the small foods and great foods were there. (Christenson 2007, 194–195)

Paxil also served as the cleft mountain of creation where maize first appeared, from which was formed the flesh of the first human beings (Christenson 2007, 194–195). Like other mountains referenced in the Popol Vuh, Paxil would have been created by the crocodilian Zipacna, whose name likely derives from 392

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Nahuatl Cipactli (Christenson 2007, 95–96).21 This fits well with highland Maya beliefs of the earth as a crocodilian floating in a primordial sea, with its scales representing the mountains—an image shared by cultures in Postclassic central Mexico (see, e.g., Milbrath, chapter 11, this volume). The stories featuring Zipacna in the Popol Vuh also speak of his brother, Cabracan. The two formed a complementary pair: the first created the mountains, and the second destroyed them by knocking them down and causing earthquakes (Christenson 2007, 91). Our analysis of the Maya codices suggests that the Yucatecan Itzam Kab’ Ayin embodied aspects of both of the brothers—the creator of mountains (the earth) as well as their destroyer. This figure may be portrayed in anthropomorphic form as God N wearing a crocodilian headdress (see figure 13.2a), or in animal form combining attributes of a crocodilian and a peccary.

[128.104.46.196] Project MUSE (2024-04-09 03:45 GMT) UW-Madison Libraries

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSIONS

Like the creator couple in the Popol Vuh, the creators in the Maya codices take on both human and animal forms; this can be compared to references to Xmucane and Xpiyacoc in the Popol Vuh as “Grandmother” and “Grandfather.” The term “grandfather” (Mam) is used in only one context in the codices, however—in reference to the yearbearer ceremonies (Wayeb’ specifically) featured on Dresden 25–28. The hieroglyphic text refers to a color-directional Way (animal companion) as the Mam, or grandfather (Paxton, chapter 12, this volume; Taube 1988; Vail and Looper 2015). Although the term is not used explicitly in other contexts, we argue that the T64/PT4 (itzam?) headdress shared by God N and the opossum links them both to the Mam, a position supported by other lines of evidence (see Taube 1989c, 1992; Thompson 1970). Moreover, the almanac in which Itzamna substitutes for the opossums portrayed in the other frames likewise shows that the opossum is one of Itzamna’s deity aspects. This fits well with the association of possums with Xpiyacoc in the Popol Vuh, an animal with links to the nighttime world. Although the possum’s nighttime aspect is not highlighted to the same extent in the codices, what is emphasized is its liminal nature. It is associated with times and places of transition, such as those occurring during Wayeb’ and involving the underworld region and primordial time. This is also true of Hunahpu Possum in the Popol Vuh, who is associated with the darkness just prior to dawn (Christenson 2007, 173). In the Popol Vuh, Xpiyacoc’s daytime aspect is that of the peccary, a creature having associations with the daytime world and with the sun. Peccaries in the Maya codices also have celestial associations; they are linked to the planet A N I M A L M A N I F ES TAT I O N S O F T H E C R E AT O R D EI T I ES

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Mars and also to celestial beings that combine attributes of crocodilians and hoofed creatures such as peccaries and deer. Contemporary Maya groups label both deer and peccaries as “sun carriers,” the two being distinguished by the time of year involved in their passage across the sky (Thompson 1967). In addition to these associations, peccaries appear in a variety of contexts in the Maya codices suggesting that they are linked to rain and to the rainbringers Chaak and Chak Chel, whereas the conflated peccary-crocodilian (or crocodilian-peccary) has ties to Itzamna. The one instance in which the glyphic evidence points to the name Itzam [Kab’] Ayin is that on page 46 of the Dresden Venus almanac. There a blue-colored God N is seated on a skyband throne (indicating his celestial location), wearing a crocodilian headdress. The associated hieroglyphic caption reads T64/PT4 (itzam? ayin), an abbreviated reference to Itzam Kab’ Ayin named in colonial-period sources. Other examples of the crocodilian/peccary conflation occur in the codices, some having crocodilian features foregrounded and others with peccary features more in evidence. This being is linked to narratives associated with both destruction and creation in indigenous Yucatec sources such as the Books of Chilam Balam. In the Popol Vuh the crocodilian is the maker of mountains (Zipacna), and his brother (Cabracan) the destroyer of mountains. The conflation of the crocodilian and peccary in the Postclassic Maya codices suggests that the two brothers may have merged into one being at times to represent the concept of destruction begetting creation. It is of interest, however, that the itzam? prefix is associated with the crocodilian and not the peccary and that it likewise occurs with opossums and turtles, both creatures with clear links to the male creator deities (Itzamna and God N). This patterning is similar to the patterning seen in the Popol Vuh with respect to the Hunahpu title. As previously noted, we posit that the itzam? prefix unites a group of related beings, all of whom can be traced back to primordial time (God N, opossums, turtles, and crocodilians). Itzamna is clearly also related, but the fact that he rarely takes the T64/PT4 title suggests a more nuanced relationship. What it is remains to be further teased out. Links between the female creators in the Popol Vuh and the Maya codices are more difficult to document. There is little evidence to associate Chak Chel with either of Xmucane’s animal aspects—the (daytime) coati or the (nighttime) coyote, as neither of them occurs in the codices. Instead, when she appears in her aspect with the “deity” eye, Chak Chel can have the attributes of a jaguar (clawed hands and feet and sometimes a jaguar’s eye), attributes that indicate her connection with fierce power and destructive forces (Taube 1992, 101, 105). Moreover, Chak Chel’s primary activity in the codices—as the 394

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bringer of life-giving or destructive rains—is not one that seems to be shared with Xmucane. It is of interest, however, that the peccary seems to share Chaak and Chak Chel’s association with rain and the fertile forces of life. This aspect of Chak Chel is also highlighted in the central panel of the almanac on Madrid 75–76, which underscores her role in the creation of humans—an aspect that she has in common with Xmucane. Both, therefore, have associations with the fertile realm within the earth, as well as the transformational power of creating life.

NOTES

1. We use the orthography adopted by the Academia de  Lenguas Mayas for Yucatec deity names and transcriptions from the codices. This differs from the colonial orthography used in sources such as Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatán (Tozzer 1941) in various ways. For example, the consonants represented by the letters b, c, k, chh, dz, pp, z, th, and u or v in the colonial alphabet are represented as b’, k, k’, ch’, tz’, p’, s, t’, and w in the orthography used in our chapter. Similarly, we include vowel length, which is generally not represented in colonial spellings. Hence, the deity names Chaak (the Maya rain god) and Chak Chel would be rendered as Chac and Chac Chel in the older system, despite the fact that the two variants of chac are distinct morphemes with very different meanings (the former referring to rain, and the latter meaning “red” or “great”). 2. A fourth, recently authenticated, was reported to have been found in a cave in Chiapas, Mexico. Formerly known as the Grolier Codex, it has been renamed Códice Maya de México (Martínez del Campo Lanz 2018). 3. A related deity, known as God P, shares a particular headdress with depictions of God N in the codices; this includes “winged” elements surrounding a haab’ glyph. God P is the second of a series of four aged deities pictured planting on the Madrid Codex yearbearer pages (two of the others are clearly members of the quadripartite set of God N figures, and the other appears to be a black variant of this deity). God P is named in various ways in the two almanacs on Madrid 26a–27a and 26b–27b in which he appears planting. Of these, the most interesting is that associated with the second frame of the former almanac, which includes a glyphic compound spelling pawah. This suggests to us that God P may be identified with the Pawah(tun) deities mentioned in colonial-period sources, and the possibility that this epithet may likewise be extended to some, if not all, of the God N figures (in particular, those depicted on Madrid 34–37). 4. Their distinct identities are also suggested by examples depicted on Classic Maya vessels in which Itzamna appears seated on a throne and God N appears in a subsidiary position, as noted by Taube (1992, 36).

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5. On several occasions the opossum glyph includes a prefix that may be a simplified form of T64/PT4, although it also resembles the phonetic glyph /pa/. If intended as the latter, it once again opens up the possibility of a pawah reading for this prefix. 6. It is of interest that there is an avian aspect of Itzamna on Paris 4 and of what may be God N (with a “human” eye) on Paris 8. Bassie-Sweet (2008, 141–143) identifies the bird associated with Itzamna as a falcon. 7. Some researchers identify the two as solar and lunar deities (Paxton 2001, 38–39; Paxton, chapter 12, this volume; Thompson 1970, 205, 233–237). 8. For a discussion of Itzamna’s turtle aspect, see Timothy Knowlton and Gabrielle Vail (2010) and Simon Martin (2015). 9. Recall the term “old man” used to refer to Hunahpu Possum in the discussion of the Popol Vuh related above. 10. See, for example, the netted prefix with k’in on the four yearbearer pages of the Madrid Codex (at B5 in the following example: http://mayacodices.org//frameDetail .asp?almNum=256&frameNum=1) and with the tun glyph on Dresden 12c (see http:// mayacodices.org//frameDetail.asp?almNum=329&frameNum=2). The netted prefix also occurs with the haab’ glyph in the second frame of Dresden 37a (see http://maya codices.org//frameDetail.asp?almNum=329&frameNum=2). 11. A similar function for the haab’ glyph has been proposed previously (see discussion in Vail 2015a, 180). 12. Other researchers have suggested similar connections. Bassie-Sweet (2008, 65–67) notes that Xpiyacoc has many of the attributes of the central Mexican fire gods Xiuhtecuhtli and Huehueteotl. 13. Chaak also wears the Mam’s distinctive headdress in the first frame of the yearbearer almanac on Dresden 31b–35b, as discussed previously. 14. This differs from the association of the mating peccaries from Classic period Bonampak with the constellation of Gemini, as discussed above. 15. Vail and Hernández (2013, 159) interpret this as representing the first appearance of Venus as an evening star, which receives support from the textual passage ho’ tal ti’ ha’ (“five arrivals from the water”). In its cycle through the sky Venus is said to rise out of the sea during its passage from the underworld to morning or evening star. This happens approximately every 584 days and occurs five times before the planet (or deity) repeats the same pattern in the sky. Susan Milbrath (1999, 201) first identified Chaak as an aspect of Venus, and she suggested that in some contexts he represents the planet as the evening star. 16. A peccary with scales also appears on Madrid 93a, where it is shown as captured by a tree snare. This scene occurs following a frame in the same almanac that shows a figure with jaguar skin markings holding an atlatl (spearthrower) and darts, the implements associated with the aspect of the morning star at heliacal rise (Vail and 396

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Hernández 2013, 418). This is of interest with regard to the scene on Dresden 74 (discussed below) in that there another Venus deity is responsible for the deluge of water associated with injuring the crocodilian representing the sky (Taube 1988). 17. In this regard, it is of interest that both peccaries and deer are said to transport the sun through the sky. According to Kaqchikel tradition, the sun is conveyed by a fast-moving deer during the shorter days of winter and by two collared peccaries during the longer days of summer (Thompson 1967, 38, in Milbrath 1999, 22). 18. A number of scholars interpret the crocodilian on Dresden 74, or other examples of what they term the “Cosmic” or “Celestial Monster,” as the Milky Way (Freidel et al. 1993, 106–107; Milbrath 1999, 279–282; Stuart 2005, 72–73). 19. The identification of this figure as a peccary is based in part on the treatment of its fur. The same convention is used throughout the codices to signify peccaries. 20. This interpretation is not shared by some other researchers, however, who interpret this imagery as representing seasonal rainfall (see, e.g., Bricker and Bricker 2011, 456; Carlson 2015; Milbrath 1999, 275–277). 21. In Mexica cosmology Cipactli was a primeval crocodilian monster from whose body the surface of the earth was created, floating on the primordial sea (Bassie-Sweet 2008, 64; Finamore and Houston 2010, 204, 262; Thompson 1970, 200). Moreover, Cecelia Klein (chapter 3, this volume) argues that the Aztec earth monster, Tlaltecuhtli, is essentially crocodilian, formed by two profile views of the Cipactli. Vail (in Vail and Hernández 2013, 414) has argued elsewhere that the Maya hunt deity designated God Y may be the Yucatec Maya equivalent of Zipacna. If this is the case, then the almanac on Madrid 39c depicts Zipacna wearing a peccary skin or a peccary with the head of Zipacna in its jaws.

REFERENCES

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Bricker, Harvey M., and Victoria R. Bricker. 1992. “Zodiacal References in the Maya Codices.” In The Sky in Mayan Literature, edited by Anthony F. Aveni, 148–183. New York: Oxford University Press. Bricker, Harvey M., and Victoria R. Bricker. 2011. Astronomy in the Maya Codices. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Bricker, Victoria R., and Harvey M. Bricker. 1986. “The Mars Table in the Dresden Codex.” In Research and Reflections in Archaeology and History: Essays in Honor of Doris Stone, edited by E. Wyllys Andrews V, 51–80. Publication 57. New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Bricker, Victoria R., and Harvey M. Bricker. 1988. “The Seasonal Table in the Dresden Codex and Related Almanacs.” Archaeoastronomy 12:S1–S62. (Supplement to Journal for the History of Astronomy 19.) Bricker, Victoria R., and Helga-Maria Miram. 2002. An Encounter of Two Worlds: The Book of Chilam Balam of Kaua. Publication 68. New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Carlson, John. 2015. “The Maya Deluge Myth and Dresden Codex Page 74: Not the End but the Eternal Regeneration of the World.” In Cosmology, Calendars, and Horizon-Based Astronomy in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Anne S. Dowd and Susan Milbrath, 197–226. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Christenson, Allen J. 2003. Popol Vuh: Literal Poetic Version. Winchester, England: O Books. Christenson, Allen J. 2007. Popol Vuh: The Sacred Book of the Maya. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Chuchiak, John F., IV. 2004. “Papal Bulls, Extirpators, and the Madrid Codex: The Content and Probable Provenience of the M. 56 Patch.” In The Madrid Codex: New Approaches to Understanding an Ancient Maya Manuscript, edited by Gabrielle Vail and Anthony Aveni, 57–88. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Coe, Michael. 1989. The Royal Fifth: Earliest Notices of Maya Writing. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 28. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Finamore, Daniel, and Stephen D. Houston (eds.). 2010. Fiery Pool: The Maya and the Mythic Sea. New Haven: Yale University Press. Förstemann, Ernst. 1880. Die Maya Handschrift der Königlichen öffentlichen Bibliothek zu Dresden: Mit 74 Tafeln in Chromo-Lightdruck. Leipzig: Verlag der A. Naumannschen Lichtdruckeret. Freidel, David, Linda Schele, and Joy Parker. 1993. Maya Cosmos: Three Thousand Years on the Shaman’s Path. New York: William Morrow.

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Guiteras-Holmes, Calixta. 1961. Perils of the Soul: The World View of a Tzotzil Indian. New York: Free Press of Glencoe. Knowlton, Timothy. 2010. Maya Creation Myths: Words and Worlds of the Chilam Balam. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Knowlton, Timothy, and Gabrielle Vail. 2010. “Hybrid Cosmologies in Mesoamerica: A Reevaluation of the Yax Cheel Cab, a Maya World Tree.” Ethnohistory 37 (4): 709–739. López Austin, Alfredo. 1993. The Myths of the Opossum: Pathways of Mesoamerican Mythology. Translated by Bernard R. Ortiz de Montellano. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Loubat, Joseph F. 1898. Il manoscritto messicano Borgiano: Del Museo etnografico della S. Congregazione di propaganda fide / riprodotto in fotocromografia a spese di s. e. il duca di Loubat a cura della Biblioteca Vaticanna. Rome: Danesi. Macri, Martha J., and Gabrielle Vail. 2009. The New Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Vol. 2, The Codical Texts. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Martin, Simon. 2015. “The Old Man of the Maya Universe: Unified Aspects to Ancient Maya Religion.” In Maya Archaeology 3, edited by Charles Golden, Stephen Houston, and Joel Skidmore, 186–226. San Francisco: Precolumbia Mesoweb Press. Martínez del Campo Lanz, Sofía. 2018. El Códice maya de México, Antes Grolier. Mexico City: Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia and Secretaría de Cultura. Milbrath, Susan. 1999. Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars. Austin: University of Texas Press. Miller, Mary, and Karl Taube. 1993. An Illustrated Dictionary of the Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya. New York: Thames and Hudson. Olivier, Guilhem. 1999. “Huehuecoyotl, ‘Coyote Viejo,’ el músico transgressor dios de los Otomíes o avatar de Tezcatlipoca?” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 30:113–131. Paxton, Merideth. 2001. The Cosmos of the Yucatec Maya: Cycles and Steps from the Madrid Codex. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Schellhas, Paul. 1904. Representation of Deities of the Maya Manuscripts. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology, vol. 4, no. 1. Cambridge: Harvard University. Stuart, David. 2005. The Inscriptions from Temple XIX at Palenque. San Francisco: PreColumbian Art Research Institute. Stuart, David. 2007. “Old Notes on the Possible ITZAM Sign.” Maya Decipherment, September 29 http://decipherment.wordpress.com/2007/09/29/old-notes-on-the -possible-itzam-sign/.

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Taube, Karl. 1987. A Representation of the Principal Bird Deity in the Paris Codex. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 6. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Taube, Karl. 1988. “The Ancient Yucatec New Year Festival: The Liminal Period in Maya Ritual and Cosmology.” PhD diss., Yale University. Taube, Karl. 1989a. Itzam Cab Ain: Caimans, Cosmology, and Calendrics in Postclassic Yucatán. Research Reports on Ancient Maya Writing, no. 26. Washington, DC: Center for Maya Research. Taube, Karl. 1989b. “The Maize Tamale in Classic Maya Diet, Epigraphy, and Art.” American Antiquity 54 (1): 31–51. Taube, Karl. 1989c. “Ritual Humor in Classic Maya Religion.” In Word and Image in Maya Culture: Explorations in Language, Writing, and Representation, edited by William F. Hanks and Don S. Rice, 351–382. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Taube, Karl. 1992. The Major Gods of Ancient Yucatan. Studies in Pre-Columbian Art and Archaeology 32. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1962. A Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1967. “Maya Creation Myths (Part 2).” Estudios de Cultura Maya 6:15–44. Thompson, J. Eric S. 1970. Maya History and Religion. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Tokovinine, Alexandre. 2017. “Beginner’s Visual Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs.” Department of Anthropology, University of Alabama. https://www.mesoweb.com /resources/catalog/Tokovinine_Catalog.pdf. Tozzer, Alfred M. 1941. Landa’s Relación de las cosas de Yucatan: A Translation. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 18. Cambridge: Harvard University. Vail, Gabrielle. 1996. “The Gods in the Madrid Codex: An Iconographic and Glyphic Analysis.” PhD diss., Tulane University. Vail, Gabrielle. 1997. “The Deer-Trapping Almanacs in the Madrid Codex.” In Papers on the Madrid Codex, edited by Victoria R. Bricker and Gabrielle Vail, 73–110. Publication 64. New Orleans: Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University. Vail, Gabrielle. 2004. “A Reinterpretation of Tzolk’in Almanacs in the Madrid Codex.” In The Madrid Codex: New Approaches to Understanding an Ancient Maya Manuscript, edited by Gabrielle Vail and Anthony Aveni, 215–252. Boulder: University Press of Colorado.

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Vail, Gabrielle. 2006. “The Maya Codices.” In Annual Review of Anthropology, edited by William H. Durham and Jane Hill, 35:497–519. Palo Alto, CA: Annual Reviews. Vail, Gabrielle. 2009. “Cosmology and Creation in Late Postclassic Maya Literature and Art.” In Maya Worldviews at Conquest, edited by Leslie G. Cecil and Timothy W. Pugh, 83–110. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Vail, Gabrielle. 2015a. “Iconography and Metaphorical Expressions Pertaining to Eclipses: A Perspective from Postclassic and Colonial Maya Manuscripts.” In Cosmology, Calendars, and Horizon-Based Astronomy in Ancient Mesoamerica, edited by Anne S. Dowd and Susan Milbrath, 163–196. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Vail, Gabrielle. 2015b. “Scribal Interaction and the Transmission of Traditional Knowledge: A Postclassic Maya Perspective.” Ethnohistory 62 (3): 445–468. Vail, Gabrielle, and Élodie Dupey García. 2019. “Cultural Interactions in Late Postclassic Mesoamerica: Exploring the Repainted Pages of the Codex Vaticanus B and Cognate Almanacs of the Maya Madrid Codex.” Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the College Art Association, New York. Vail, Gabrielle, and Christine Hernández. 2012. “Rain and Fertility Rituals in Postclassic Yucatan Featuring Chaak and Chak Chel.” In The Ancient Maya of Mexico: Reinterpreting the Past of the Northern Maya Lowlands, edited by Geoffrey E. Braswell, 285–305. Sheffield, England, and Bristol, CT: Equinox. Vail, Gabrielle, and Christine Hernández. 2013. Re-Creating Primordial Time: Foundation Rituals and Mythology in the Postclassic Maya Codices. Boulder: University Press of Colorado. Vail, Gabrielle, and Christine Hernández. 2018. “Dresden Codex: 69–70 Frame: 2.” The Maya Codices Database. Ver. 5.0. http://mayacodices.org//frameDetail.asp?alm Num=386&frameNum=2. Vail, Gabrielle, and Matthew Looper. 2015. “World Renewal Rituals among the Postclassic Yucatec Maya and Contemporary Ch’orti’ Maya.” Estudios de Cultura Maya 45: 121–140. Vail, Gabrielle, and Andrea Stone. 2002. “Representations of Women in Postclassic and Colonial Maya Literature and Art.” In Ancient Maya Women, edited by Traci Ardren, 203–228. Walnut Creek, CA: Alta Mira Press. Velásquez García, Erik. 2006. “The Maya Flood Myth and the Decapitation of the Cosmic Caiman.” PARI Journal 7 (1): 1–10. https://www.mesoweb.com/pari/publi cations/journal/701/Flood.pdf.

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14 A New World Bestiary in Postclassic Mesoamerica Susan Milbrath

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Contributions to our volume honoring Cecelia Klein explore multiple perspectives in Postclassic iconography, highlighting the role animals play in seasonal imagery, religion, cosmology, warfare, and political ideology. Animal behavior and morphology are certainly important aspects in animal symbolism. Fierce animals were linked with warriors and blood sacrifice in central Mexico. Croaking amphibians evoked links with the rainy season in a wide area of Mesoamerica; butterflies and hummingbirds also symbolized the rainy season, when they could be seen hovering around the flowers. Animal alter egos for anthropomorphic deities are well known in Mesoamerica, and animals carried messages from the gods in different ways. For example, the call of the screech owl was a portent of death in Sahagún’s Book 5 (The Omens) of the Florentine Codex. Animal metaphors noted in Book 6 (Rhetoric and Moral Philosophy) compared the roseate spoonbill to the sun at dawn, the eagle and jaguar to brave warriors, and a fleeing fugitive was said to be like a rabbit or deer. These metaphors recall medieval bestiaries that incorporated allegorical images based on the appearance and behavior of animals. Many Postclassic animal images lack accompanying written texts, and our authors have found inspiration for their interpretations in colonial-period records and indigenous codices with glosses written in Spanish or Nahuatl. Ethnographic accounts and modern natural science observations also enhance the https://doi.org/10.5876/9781646424610.c014

interpretations presented here. Even though this volume focuses on later periods in Mesoamerica, the introduction and several other chapters highlight patterns in Mesoamerican animal symbolism that have precedents in the Classic period, most notable in chapters 3, 4, 5, 12, and 13. For example, bird and jaguar warrior orders represented in complementary opposition on the Classic period paintings of Teotihuacan inspired the early Postclassic relief carvings at Tula (chapter 4). A keen eye for iconographic details is always essential in the study of visual symbolism, and our authors clearly follow Klein’s lead in studying the more subtle aspects of Mesoamerican imagery. Chapter 2 by Elizabeth Boone is a wonderful essay that highlights Klein’s contributions to the field of Mesoamerican art history. Throughout this volume, the authors have emphasized the important role Cecelia Klein has played in iconographic studies of the Postclassic period. Although this volume is not a student-oriented festschrift, Klein’s influence is clearly apparent in contributions by Cynthia Kristan-Graham, one of Cecelia Klein’s many accomplished graduate students, and Jeanette Peterson, the first of her numerous PhD students at UCLA, who delightfully describes Klein’s role as a professor in the preface. When Elizabeth Baquedano and I organized the original SAA symposium in 2019, we invited senior colleagues and young scholars from many different institutions, and since there are relatively few publications that focus on Postclassic animal imagery, the majority of the chapters in this book represent new avenues of research for our authors. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 explore animal images in the late Epiclassic and early Postclassic (AD 800–1150/1200), relying extensively on the archaeological context of these art works at Tula and Chichen Itza. These chapters refer to antecedents that include Maya images dating to the Classic period (AD 250–800) and early Classic animal images from Teotihuacan, a central Mexican city that was in decline by the sixth century. Most chapters focus on animal symbolism in the late Postclassic (AD 1150/1200–1521), especially animal imagery in Aztec art and colonial-period codices, along with documents written in Spanish and Nahuatl compiled within fifty years of the Spanish conquest. Chapters 6 and 10 also include an analysis of animal remains in archaeological context, focusing on the well preserved remains from Tenochtitlan’s Templo Mayor. Many chapters also include study of animal behavior and morphology, and this approach is especially important in chapters 5, 6, and 7, which feature Precolumbian images of amphibians and snakes in Postclassic art. Two chapters (chapters 8 and 9) use Aztec sources dating shortly after the Spanish conquest to interpret Aztec imagery of scorpions and quail, and many other chapters rely on Aztec sources to identify the symbolism of animals. A N EW WO R LD B ES T I A RY I N P O S T C L A S S I C M ES OA M ER I CA

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Aztec (Mexica) zooarchaeological remains from the Templo Mayor, the sacred precinct of Tenochtitlan, are a focus in chapter 10. Here, Leonardo López Luján and the Templo Mayor team analyze offerings containing animal remains dressed in costumes that can be linked with deity images in colonialperiod Aztec codices. This chapter also highlights important symbolic links associated with these animals. Chapters 11, 12, and 13 rely on colonial-period sources to help decipher the animal symbolism in the codices but also employ data on animal behavior and morphology. The Volatiles, a set of thirteen flying creatures who symbolize numbers, and ten day signs in the divination calendar portraying animals are featured in chapter 11. This chapter also analyzes animal behavior and distinctive physical features that are highlighted in an almanac portraying a yearend ritual known from Sahagún’s Florentine Codex. Chapter 12 employs a similar approach to study the role of the opossum in Precolumbian Maya codices in New Year ceremonies, closely linked with ethnohistorical accounts recorded by Friar Landa. Chapter 13 focuses on Maya codices representing animals in the context of creation cosmology, establishing a bridge between Precolumbian times, the colonial-period Popol Vuh, and beliefs that survive into modern times among the Tzutujil Maya. The mountains referenced in the Popol Vuh were created by a crocodilian god, who also formed the cleft mountain where maize was formed into the flesh of the first human beings (chapter 13). The rich array of interpretations presented in our volume provides a departure point for further studies and helps to foster a better understanding of how Mesoamerican representations of animals fit into the larger picture.

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The complex animal combinations discussed in this volume bring to mind patterns known from other ancient cultures. Cecelia Klein’s Composite Creature, discussed in chapter 3, can be compared to fantastical combinations of animals in ancient Greece, such as the Chimera, a monster in classical mythology, described as a lion-headed goat with a dragon tail, or the sphinxlike Griffin, another enigmatic combination found in Greece and the Near East, which had the head and wings of an eagle and the body of a lion with a long, serpentine tail (see J. E. Cirlot’s A Dictionary of Symbols, 1962). Many bizarre creatures appear in classical myths in Europe and elsewhere in the “Old World.” Different explanations have been offered for these strange combinations, including the theory that they symbolize different constellations in the sky, sometimes appearing in the mythical adventures of planetary 404

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deities. The classic Greco-Roman planets are generally represented in anthropomorphic form, but some could temporarily turn into animals, as when Zeus ( Jupiter) transforms into an eagle. Animal entities are important in the roster of classical constellations, as are anthropomorphic heroes, such as Orion and Perseus, who rose up to become constellations in the night sky. These gods are often featured in myths that explain the positioning of constellations in the celestial dome. For example, after the scorpion stung Orion, the two were placed at opposite sides of the sky as the constellations Scorpio and Orion to avoid further conflict. On the other hand, Hercules and the crab that nipped at his heels as he battled the Hydra were immortalized as adjacent constellations. The sun’s path through the contellations of the zodiac marks a seasonal cycle of star groups on the ecliptic, each of which disappears in the sun’s glare during one month of the year, representing different creatures that each take a turn as the sign of the month. Capricorn, with the head of a goat and the body of a fish, was associated with the Greek god Pan, who rescued Zeus ( Jupiter) and was rewarded by being placed as a constellation on the ecliptic, the apparent path of the sun and planets. The relationship of the planet Jupiter to Capricorn suggests a special link in classical Greece. On the other hand, twelve different animal contellations marked the position of Jupiter during its 11.86-year synodic cycle in ancient Chinese astronomy, as noted in Joseph Needham’s masterful Science and Civilization in China, volume 3 (1959). Because Jupiter moves into a new constellation each year, a new animal names that year, giving us designations such as the “year of the dragon” and the “year of the horse.” Another zodiac-like arrangement divided the sky along the celestial equator into four giant animals, with the Azure Dragon of the East, Vermilion Bird of the South, White Tigre of the West, and Black Turtle of the North. Mesoamerican animals have counterparts in the night sky, as seen in chapters 8, 9, and 11, but ancient Mesoamericans developed their primary concepts of animal symbolism by observing animals in nature. The attributes associated with specific animals here on earth are clearly most important in Mesoamerican iconography. Visual and written records of these observations help explain the patterning of animal symbolism in Mesoamerica. We may ask, why are certain animals so prominent in Mesoamerican art, and what features of animal behavior and morphology account for the importance of these animals? The answers seem to be as varied as the animals represented, but certain patterns are apparent in this volume’s chapters. Animal behavior is central to Mesoamerican iconography, and the marked seasonality of certain animals evokes the annual cycle. Frogs and toads are symbols of the rainy season, and their fecundity is apparent in their abundant A N EW WO R LD B ES T I A RY I N P O S T C L A S S I C M ES OA M ER I CA

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eggs (chapters 5 and 6). The mating behavior of frogs and toads involves males calling out at night, which ultimately leads to clusters of fertilized eggs that become tadpoles, making the reproductive cycle of these amphibians powerful symbols of fecundity and regeneration (chapter 6). In ancient Mesoamerica, frogs and toads came to represent an embodiment of the earth and agricultural fertility, for they seem to disappear into the earth during the dry season and reemerge with the onset of the rains (chapter 6). Animals that undergo transformations are important in Mesoamerica, such as tadpoles that become frogs (chapter 6) and butterflies that emerge from cocoons and snakes that shed their skin (chapter 11). In the central highlands butterflies and hummingbirds symbolized the rainy season as a time of year when such animals become more active and when flowers bloom (chapter 11). The ability of the opossum to feign death and be “reborn” may account for its important role in year-end ceremonies, with the death of the old year and revival at the New Year (chapter 12). The masculine celestial world was embodied in the Aztec (Mexica) god Huitzilopochtli, who symbolized the sun and the dry season (chapter 10). In the southern half of the Templo Mayor, the section of the building related to the sun, the winter solstice, and the dry season, animal offerings leading up to Huitzilopochtli’s shrine included eagles, hawks, and wolves, whereas offerings of pumas and a jaguar were distributed in the northern half with its stairway leading up to Tlaloc’s shrine, a section of the building associated with the earth, the summer solstice, and the rainy season (chapter 10). The Altar of the Frogs is an architectural structure that delineates part of the space dedicated to Tlaloc, the god of rain (chapter 6). Tlaloc and frogs were associated with the rainy season, agricultural fertility, and the earth deity, Tlaltecuhtli, who is sometimes merged with Tlaloc because they share the iconographic traits of the rain god (chapter 6). Nocturnal animals, such as the frog and jaguar, also shared some link in Postclassic symbolism (chapter 5). Scorpions, feared for their burning stings, appear repeatedly in Postclassic imagery and colonial-period incantations (chapters 9 and 11). And scorpions were visualized among the stars in the night sky (chapters 9 and 11), along with the mythical fire serpent, who seems to be associated with the dry season and possibly a group of stars (chapter 11) and the fiery rays of the sun (chapter 7). The possum and coyote gods in the Maya Popol Vuh represent animals that are similar because of their nocturnal habits, associating them with nighttime and darkness, whereas the coati and peccary represent deities linked with the daytime, when these creatures are most active (chapter 13). The day versus night symbolism is also evident in the legend of Yappan, who was associated with a 406

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deadly scorpion and a star group in the sky, but the solar god Piltzintecuhtli (Seven Flower) was destined to be a deer in the new world age, and he was given dominion over the scorpion, making him able to neutralize the sting of Yappan (chapter 9). The Aztec legend of Yaotl, who creates a black scorpion by decapitation, seems to suggest that scorpion was visualized as a decapitated creature, with its headless body seeming to have giant “arms” (chapter 9). Venomous coral snakes and rattlers play an important role in Postclassic iconography (chapters 3, 7, and 11). The coral snake is nocturnal and is associated with the moon, and Aztec art shows coral snakes wrapping around the Moon Goddess, Coyolxauhqui, a legendary Aztec goddess who attempted to kill the solar god Huitzilopochtli (chapter 7). The coral snake was considered sneaky because it hides under leaves and rocks, in contrast to the rattlesnake, which announces its presense with a warning rattle (chapter 7). The rattlesnake with its gaping, fanged mouth and the warning sound of its rattle tail is prepared for aggressive action, but its coiled pose represented a potential power that is restrained, a balance of power and restraint that was characteristic of a good ruler (chapter 7). Animal morphology is also important in Mesoamerican imagery. In the art of Chichen Itza, the rattler representing the feathered serpent has scrolls emanating from the corners of its mouth, which probably represent halves of the forked tongue (chapter 5). The toad has features that appear to be represented in symbolic details, such as the jade symbols on the underside of Aztec toad images that symbolize the toad’s seat patch, which allows it to “drink” in a puddle or spring (chapter 6). The quail, the animal most commonly killed as an offering to the Aztec sun god, has mottled coloration that symbolized stars in the night sky, stars that had to be sacrificed each day so the sun could rise (chapter 8). Mexica priests sacrificed quail at the moment of the rising of the sun and during festivals related to the sun god, Tonatiuh (chapter 8). Along with the lobster, the snake, and the butterfly, the quail was destined to be sacrificed at the time of the mythological creation of the Fifth Sun in Teotihuacan, for these animals had not correctly guessed the cosmic direction from which the sun would rise (chapter 8). Archaeological evidence shows that predators were treated reverentially in the Aztec Templo Mayor at Tenochtitlan, where sacrificed animals dressed as gods included eagles, falcons, hawks, wolves, pumas, and jaguars (chapter 10). These offerings preseved thirteen golden eagles, which were most numerous among the animals dressed as deities. The golden eagle plays a central role in Aztec legends of the foundation of Tenochtitlan, but the harpy eagle seems to be more important in other areas. The harpy eagle, prominent among gods A N EW WO R LD B ES T I A RY I N P O S T C L A S S I C M ES OA M ER I CA

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in the Codex Borgia, seems to be central to Olmec and Maya iconography many centuries earlier (chapters 1, 3, and 11). With its keen hunting ability and impressive wing span, the harpy eagle came to be characterized as one of the supreme deities among the Maya (chapter 3). Nocturnally active owls naturally symbolize the night, whereas the eagle’s perceived ability to look directly at the sun made this raptor a symbol of the sun itself (chapter 11). Apex predators such as wolves and pumas were military and lineage symbols in the Postclassic, and jaguars and eagles represented the highest order of warriors in Aztec culture (chapters 3, 4, and 11). Jaguars, known to be strong swimmers, are naturally connected with water and sometimes also symbolized the moon (chapters 5 and 11). Jaguars were linked to rulership, and their pelts were a status symbol associated with elites and warriors (chapter 5). Perhaps they were so prized because they were so difficult to hunt. At the heart of these multiple levels of symbolism are observations of nature, the fierce jaguar being an apt symbol for rulers but also an ideal symbol of the night sky and moon because of the jaguar’s nocturnal activity. Other patterns surely will emerge with further study. Based on animal imagery, new glyphic readings are proposed in two chapters that focus on the Maya, and these readings may inspire further study of glyphs related to animal imagery (chapters 12 and 13). And other intriguing lines for further research include the mat of serpents linked with Aztec rulers, which is clearly related to rattlesnakes (chapters 3 and 7), and perhaps the intertwined serpents encode aspects of animal behavior. The crocodile as an earth symbol (chapter 3) may be related to how crocodilians lay their eggs on mounds formed at the edge of watery environs. Their earth symbolism can be traced back to the Preclassic earth-crocodile, well represented at Izapa ca. 400  BC. Here the crocodile’s body transforms into a tree, not unlike images that appear almost 2000 years later in the Codex Borgia. The mythological Quetzalcoatl, who bears quetzal feathers and the tail of a rattlesnake, is a central icon in Postclassic art that can be traced back to Preclassic Olmec art, ca. 900  BC (chapters 1, 3, and 5). Described as a real animal in Sahagún’s Book 11, this flying snake embodies the serpent day sign and the planet Venus (chapter 11), but perhaps this creature was originally based on observations of the green vine snake (Oxybelis fulgidus in the colubrid family), an arboreal reptile that flings itself from branch to branch. The enduring nature of animal imagery in ancient Mesoamerica is impressive and no doubt finds its origin in careful daily observations of nature, made at a time when people lived closer to the natural world. Animals could be the alter egos of humans and even determine aspects of their character in the 408

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divination systems associated with the calendar. Offerings of animal sacrifice were a conduit to the world of the gods, and animals could carry messages from the “other world” in the form of omens. They surely watched the animals for signs of seasonal changes to come, which may be why they carried portents of the future. Even though animals represented a pathway for communicating with the world of the gods in ancient Mesoamerica, they did not reside in a world apart from humankind. Today many of us live largely separated from the world of animals except for the few pets we may have at home. We might visit zoos now and then to observe animals briefly, but then move on. But in ancient Mesoamerica the animals “spoke” to people, having special powers to communicate with humans. In this volume the animal world in ancient Mesoamerica comes to life once again, which helps us to see how the birds and beasts played a central role in the lives of Mesoamerican people and how they gained the status of gods in many different contexts.

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Index

acipaquitli, 311 adosada platform (Teotihuacan), 11, 118, 120–21 agency, 16; of animals, 10, 26, 166 agriculture, agricultural cycle, 72, 220, 359, 406 Ahuitzotl, 182, 185, 196n11, 247 ak’bal (ak’b’al) sign, 81n44 almanacs, scorpions in, 235–37, 240. See also directional almanacs; hunting almanacs Altar of the Frogs (Templo Mayor), 176; description of, 164–66; species depicted on, 166–67 altars, toad, 147, 160 alter egos, 17, 18, 408–9. See also naguals; way/uay Altun Ha, tripod vessel from, 67, 69f amphibians, 10, 162, 167–68, 170, 402. See also frogs; toads Anales de Cuauhtitlan, 77n15, 317, 331–32n28 Anatidae, 40, 51 anklets, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 262, 263f, 264f annular discs (anahuatl): symbolism of, 266–67; in Templo Mayor deposits, 262, 263f, 264f anurans, 168, 170. See also frogs; toads aquatic animals, and chacmool, 173–74f asterisms, 231f, 231–32, 233f. See also constellations

Atamalqualiztli, 83n65 Atetelco apartment complex (Teotihuacan), White Patio animal frieze, 113, 114f Aticpaccalqui cihuatl, 209 Atitlán, Lake, nonhuman agents in, 16 Atlacoaya, 83n63 atlatls, 264, 268 Aubin Tonalamatl, 305, 330n24 Aveni, Anthony, 220 Axayacatl, 190, 247 Aztecs, 4, 6, 9, 14, 19, 24, 42, 47, 72, 139, 173, 195n1, 221, 315, 320, 403; calendrical cycle, 183–84; and Cipactli, 53, 55, 397n21; sacrifices, 43–44; serpents and, 12–13, 18, 407 Azure Dragon of the East, 405 Bacabs/Pauahtuns, 341, 345, 350, 357, 359; opossum, 352–54; and wayeb ceremonies, 346–47 Balamkú, 147 balance, restoration of, 223–25, 226–27 baptisms, and cardinal directions, 359–60 Basilisk, 58 bats, 287, 290, 295 beaded lizard-turtle, 58 beaded tubes, 47; and Feathered Serpents, 41, 44–45, 47 beads, greenstone, 268 beards, on reptiles, 44, 45; on Venus Platform zoomorph, 35 bees, and rainy season, 295

Page numbers followed by f indicate a figure; by n indicate an endnote; and by t indicate a table.

Belize, 7 bells: on anklets, 262, 263f, 264f; symbolism and value of, 265–66 belts, gastropod shell from, 262 Benson, Elizabeth, 4 Berdan, Frances, 4–5 bestiaries, 4 bicephalic dragons, 55, 60, 61, 63f, 79n35, 81n49 bird men (voladores), 17 birds, 10, 62, 214n2, 247, 330n22, 376, 403; and Itzamnaa, 373, 396n6; and Itzamnaaj, 64–65, 82n57; as messengers, 330–31n25; and military/political power, 246, 269; on royal helmets, 17–18; sacrifices of, 114, 206; in Tenochitlan’s sacred precinct, 248–49t, 252f, 260, 261–62; as Volatiles, 299–305; in world trees, 4, 82n56. See also by type birthdates, and destinies, 356–57 bison-headed “man,” in Chauvet Cave, 16 Black Turtle of the North, 405 bloodletting, and quail, 201–2 boa, and coyote, 19 bobwhite, northern (Colinus virginianus), 201 body paint, and Montezuma quail, 203 Bonampak, 19, 387 bones, and quail, 209–10 Books of Chilam Balam: Chumayel, 72, 346, 352, 374; crocodilians and peccaries in, 392, 394; and Itzam Kab Ayiin, 61–62 books, Colonial period, 7 Borbonicus Codex, 207, 301; butterflies in, 301, 330n24; Day Lords in, 305, 306 Borgia Codex, 7, 9, 284f, 285f, 326n4, 3326n6, 384f; animals in, 282–83, 287–88, 329n20, 329n21, 330n22; calendars in, 14, 288–90, 329n18; crocodilians in, 309, 408; deer in, 314–15; directional almanacs in, 290–99, 323–25, 325–26n3, 327–28n12; dogs in, 316–17; eagles in, 320–22, 408; Fire serpent in, 328n13, 332n29; jaguar in, 319–20; lizard in, 311–12; monkeys in, 317–18; rabbit in, 315–16; serpents in, 312–14; year-end ceremonies in, 285, 286; Volatiles almanac in, 299–305; vultures in, 322–23 Borgia Group screenfold books, 5, 7, 9, 18, 330n23; almanacs in, 16, 299; animal day signs, 26–27; crocodilians in, 307–11; quail sacrifice in, 204, 208; scorpions in, 13, 235. See also Borgia Codex

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bracelets, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 263 Brasseur de Bourbourg, Charles Étienne, and Dresden Codex, 343 Building A (Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone), 256 Building O (Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone), 247 burials, 19; animal, 113, 116–17, 256–62, 321. See also offerings burning, of offertory objects, 146 Buthidae, male and female, 232, 234. See also scorpions butterflies, 15, 45, 306, 307, 331n26, 402, 406, 407; depictions of, 46–47; as Volatiles, 301, 330n24 Cabracan, 393, 394 Cacaxtla, 76n11, 80n40, 116, 122, 161, 237; Feathered Serpent at, 44, 47; prisoners in, 229–30 cactus, eagle on, 296 caiman, 80n37, 80n40; Cipactli as, 309 calendar almanacs, calendars, 14, 72, 347; in Codex Borgia, 282–83, 288–90, 323–24, 326–27n8, 327n9, 327n10, 327n11; cycles, 183– 85; numbers in, 305–6. See also Calendar Round; directional almanacs Calendar Round, 329n18, 347; animals and, 282, 292–99, 341, 354; in Codex Borgia, 286, 289–90, 324 Calendar Stone, Aztec, 24, 294 Cancuen, 148 canines, canids, 107, 108f, 117, 246, 269. See also coyotes; dogs; wolves Capricorn, 405 captives, 267; sacrifice of, 43–44 Caracol, 17 cardinal directions, 14, 282, 354; and baptisms, 359–60; and Codex Borgia, 285, 290, 292–99, 313 carnivores, 27, 106; at Teotihuacan, 110, 114f. See also jaguars; pumas; wolves Castillo (Chichen Itza), 150n7; feathered serpents at, 144f, 145, 314 caterpillar, 40, 51, 301, 329n17 cave art, 5, 18 ceiba (Ceiba pentandra), as world tree, 63 Ceibal, 17, 148

cenotes, 143, 150n5; as sacred places, 133–34. See also Sacred Cenote Centeotl (Maize God), 297, 306 Centruroides sp.; gracilis, 234; mating behavior, 237–38 ch’a’ chaak ceremonies, 140, 142f Chaak, 140, 375, 376, 382, 396n13; and cenotes, 133, 135, 143; and peccaries, 387, 394; with scorpion tails, 237, 238f Chacmool, aquatic animals associated with, 173–74f Chacs, 357, 359 Chac u Uayeyab, 348 Chak Chel (Goddess O; Red Goddess), 237, 380; aspects of, 376–78f, 387, 394–95 chalchihuitl symbols, on frog and toad sculptures, 168–70 Chalchiuhtlicue ( Jade-her-skirt), 83n63, 174, 212, 226, 312; Yappan and, 13, 222, 240 Chalchiuhtotolin (Precious Turkey), 207, 307 Chalcotzingo, 17, 18 Chama echinata, necklaces of, 267 Chamula, 17 Chantico, 83n63, 267 Charles V, and Dresden Codex, 344 Chauvet cave, 16 Chiapas, 6 Chicchan, 41, 146, 149, 309 Chichen Itza, 6, 8, 42, 106, 116, 121, 123–24n5, 124n6, 134f, 150n7, 150n8, 403; Composite Creatures at, 37–38, 52, 71–73, 75n4, 75n8; Feathered serpents, 144f, 145–46, 407; Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan at, 69–70; Sacred Cenote at, 12, 130–33, 135–38, 139–40, 150n4; serpent heads at, 56, 77n25; skull rack at, 147–48; Venus Platforms, 11, 35–37, 43, 73–74, 75n6 Chicomecoatl, 83n63; and quail, 207f, 208f, 209 Chicomexochitl, 207 Chimera, 404 China, celestial structure, 405 Chingu, 113 Cholula, 39 Chorti, 41 Ch’orti’ Maya, 140 Chumayel, 374 Cihuacoatl, 267 Cihuacoatl-Quilaztli, 210

Cihuateteo, 267 Cipactli, 46f, 53, 59, 76n9, 79n32, 121, 297, 309, 311; as composite, 53, 55; as crocodilian, 393, 397n21 Citlalcolotl (star scorpion), 294–95, 328n15 Citlalicue, Citlalcueye (Star-her-skirt), 226, 331–32n28; Yappan and, 13, 222, 240 citlalicue (skirt of stars), 267 civil war, Mexica, 187, 190, 193 Classic period (Maya), 8, 17, 18, 19, 52, 116, 161 Clottes, Jean, 16 Coatepec (Serpent Mountain), 181, 190, 204; events at, 186f, 186–87 coatimundi, coati, 15, 381f; and creator gods, 374, 386, 394; in Popol Vuh, 379, 380 Coatlicue, 267; images of, 23, 186f, 196n16 Coatlinchan, 119 Codex Borgia. See Borgia Codex Codex Cospi, 43 codices, 7, 374. See also by name co-essences, 18, 341, 342, 355–56, 357, 358f. See also way/uay Cofradía San Juan, deer hunting shrine, 315 Coixtlahuaca, 5 color, 7, 51, 306; lizards and, 311–12 Composite Creatures, 3, 11, 51, 52, 75n4, 75n8, 77n17, 116f, 283, 313, 404; crocodilian attributes, 58–59; dentition on, 48–49; human faces on, 70–73; Itzamnaaj and, 59–60, 65, 67–69; as K’uk’ulkan, 47–48; at Tula, 75n8; and Venus, 40–41; on Venus Platforms, 37–39 constellations, 149, 294, 328n14, 329n19; and composite creatures, 404–5; peccary, 387, 388; scorpion, 9, 13, 231f, 231–233, 233f, 237–38, 328n15, 407; and zodiac signs, 330–31n25 copal, and quail, 201 Copan, 39, 80n39, 81–82n52, 120, 139, 140, 148; Altar T, 68f, 80–81n46; crocodile tree, 80–81n46; sub-Jaguar tomb vessels, 52, 54f, 56f, 78n28; winged crocodilian as, 65, 67 copper, 266 cords: as snares, 230–31; in treating scorpion sting, 229, 240 Cortés, Hernán, and Dresden Codex, 344 Cosmic Monster, 3, 18, 41, 55 cotinga, lovely (Cotinga amabilis), 83n64, 267 Coyoacan, 182

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Coyolxauhqui, 12, 13, 181, 197n19, 204, 267, 294, 407; depictions of, 185–93 Coyolxauhqui Stone, 188, 189, 192; serpent imagery on, 190–91 coyote knights, at El Corral, 114 coyotes, 15, 19, 27, 107, 384, 374, 385; and creator gods, 381f, 394; as day sign, 307, 311; in Popol Vuh, 379, 406; processing, 113, 114f Cozcacuauhtli, 322 creation, 72; maize plant in, 298–99 creator deities: animal aspects, 373–75, 376–80; Mayan, 393–95; naming patterns, 375–76; and opossums, 381–85 crocodiles, crocodilians, 4, 17, 44, 53, 55, 56–60, 67, 79n37, 79n40, 81n46, 147, 296, 329n20, 373, 380, 397n21, 404, 408; American (Crocodylus acutus), 56, 57f, 81–82n52, 307, 311, 397n18; at Copan, 65, 67; day signs, 307–11; depictions of, 45–46, 55, 81n47; in directional almanacs, 288, 296; and God N, 376, 385; and Itzam Kab Ayiin, 62–65; Morelet’s (C. moreletti), 56, 307, 311; as offerings, 58, 79n33; and peccaries, 389f, 389–93, 394 crocodile-shark conflation, 53, 55 crossed-bands sign, 36, 47, 61, 81n51, 82n53 cross-hatching, in Maya imagery, 44, 77n23 Cuauhtemoc, 256 Cuauhtitlan, 213 Cuauhtlehuanitl, 255 Cuetzpalin (Lizard), 311 cures, healing: quail used in, 209, 211–12; scorpion sting, 227–29 dancers, dances, 17; scorpion, 237–38 darts, in ritual deposits, 264, 268 dawn, 206 Day Lords, 305, 305–6 day signs/names, 291t, 325n2, 327n9; and animals, 26–27, 283, 288t, 306; in Codex Borgia, 289–90; crocodile in, 307–11; deer as, 314–15; dog as, 316–17; eagle as, 320–22; jaguar as, 319–20; lizards, 311–12; monkey as, 317–18; rabbit as, 315–16; serpents as, 312–14; vulture, 322–23 Death God, 290, 306, 314, 315, 316 dedicatory ceremonies, Venus Platform and, 42–43 deer, 15, 228, 235, 311, 394, 397n17, 402; as day sign, 314–15; and scorpions, 230–32;

414

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trapping, 9, 16; white-tailed (Odocoileus virginianus mexicanus), 315 Deer Dance, in Santiago Atitlán, 17 Deer God (Huk Sip), 16 dentition: on Composite Creatures, 48–49; Maya depictions of, 52–53 destinies, birthdays and, 356–57 difrasismos, punishment, 229–30 directional almanacs, 306, 321; animals in, 283–84, 287–88, 292t, 292–99, 307, 323–25; in Codex Borgia, 282–83, 285f, 286–87, 290, 325–26n3, 327–28n12 directions, 354, 359; in Dresden Codex, 347–48; Mesoamerican system of, 345–47 divination, 409; almanacs, 16, 283, 325n2, 404; marriage, 235–37; quail in, 210–12 dogs, 19, 256, 379; as day sign, 307, 316–17; in healing rituals, 211–12 Dos Pilas, Stela 1, 17 double-headed creatures, serpents, 18, 190–95, 197n19 dove, as Volatile, 304 dragons, two-headed, 55 drought, 73, 83n66 dream states, 18–19 Dresden Codex, 43, 61, 62, 67, 81n49, 143f, 324, 330–31n25, 333n34, 358f, 374, 388, 392; creator gods in, 393, 394; human-animal forms in, 360–61; Itzam Kab’ Ayin, 390f, 391f; New Year ceremonies, 342f, 345–48, 349f, 361–63; opossums in, 14–15, 26, 341, 351f, 352f, 353f, 354–55, 356, 360, 365n5, 382, 383f; provenience and date of, 343–45; Venus in, 76n16, 373 dry season, 295, 304, 406 ducks (Anatidae), 40, 51 Durán, Diego, 8, 182, 207, 212 Dzitas, 138 eagles, 3, 4, 8, 19, 267, 301, 332n32, 402; as day sign, 320–22; in directional almanac, 287, 288, 296, 298; golden (Aquila chrysaetos), 246, 247, 269, 296, 321, 322, 407; harpy (Harpia harpyja), 18, 64, 67f, 296, 305, 321–22, 407–8; and rulership, 27, 183f; sun and, 255–56, 284, 332–33n33; in Templo Mayor, 257f, 260, 261, 262, 266, 406; at Teotihuacan, 113, 117, 257f, 269; at Tula, 106, 107f, 108f, 109 eagle-headed vessel (cuauhxicalli), 292, 321

earspools, ear ornaments, 77n24, 267; in ritual deposits, 262–63, 264 earth: crocodilians and, 307–8, 309, 408; and shark teeth, 52–53 Earth Crocodile, earth-crocodile, 61–64, 307–8, 323, 408 earth monster, 9, 147, 208 Earth Mother, 209 Earth Ruler (Tlalteuctli), 59 eclipses, and scorpions, 232, 233f Ehecatl, 51, 40, 70 Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl, 313, 314 Ek u Uayeyab, 348 El Corral, 75n8, 114 El Perú-Waká, 140 El Salvador, 3 El Tajin, 116, 121 Epiclassic period, 7, 10, 11, 35, 106, 116, 161, 403 Etzalcualiztli festival, 212 etzalli, 212 eye rings: in Composite Creatures, 70–71; on Tlaloc, 71 falcons, 262, 297, 299; laughing (Herpetotheres cachinnans), 65, 266; peregrine (Falco peregrinus), 246; prairie (Falco mexicanus), 305; in Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 261, 407 feathered eyes, 46 Feathered Serpent Pyramid (Teotihuacan), 58, 60 Feathered Serpents, 40, 44, 47, 51, 60, 77n18, 185, 268, 284, 309, 408; Chichen Itza, 44f, 50f, 70, 139, 144f, 145–46, 151n12, 407; in Codex Borgia, 283, 312–13; dentition, 48–49; in directional almanac, 283, 288, 298, 324; at La Venta, 17–18; and rulership, 146–47; Sacred Cenote, 132f, 135, 138f, 139 feathers, 49, 51, 301 feet and legs: 49, 51, 59, 60, 68, 70, 78n28, of Composite Creature, 49, 52,64 Fejérváry-Mayer, Codex, 316, 329n20 felines, felids, 49, 79n34, 107, 139; military/ political power, 246, 269; in Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 254f, 259–60; in Teotihuacan images, 113, 117, 118, 119, 120, 123n4; on Tula Pyramid B frieze, 107, 108f feline-hybrid zoomorphs, 56 female genitalia, 166

females, 221; as fertility symbols, 70, 71; and red and yellow scorpions, 234–35, 239–40 femininity, human and divine, 24 fertility symbols: on Composite Creatures, 70–72; frogs and toads, 140, 147, 162, 167, 168, 405–6; Maya, 142f, 142–45 festivals, and Calendar Round, 289–90, 291t, 329n18 Fifth Sun (Teotihuacan), 309, 407; creation of, 202, 203f, 204 fifty-two year cycle, 285–86 fire, and cenote offerings, 146 fire drills, fire drilling, 14, 42f, 119f; in Codex Borgia, 295–96; and ceremonies, 292, 293f fire rituals, Maya, 150–51n9. See also Izcalli festival; New Fire ceremony Fire Serpents (xiuhcoatl), 37, 40, 47, 51, 179, 180, 181, 182f, 183, 194, 328n13, 329n17, 332n29; and Coyolxauhqui, 13, 187; in directional almanac, 283, 287, 292, 293–94; and Huitzilopochtli, 294–95; Mixtec, 45f, 328n13, 328n15; and Moctezuma II, 184–85 fish, in earth creation, 309 “Fisherman” mural, at Mayapan, 309–11, 324 floods: in Aztec myths, 309; in Mayan myths, 61–62 Florentine Codex, 4, 6, 7, 186, 187, 268, 294, 295, 306, 311, 316, 317, 320, 328n14, 328n15, 402, 404; birds in, 255, 297, 304, 323; on divination ritual, 210–11; serpents in, 312, 314; Serpent Mat in, 188–89; Volatiles in, 300, 305 Flower Quetzal; Precious Flower (Xochiquetzal), 72 foods, 162; ritual, 212–13 Förstemann, Ernst, and Dresden Codex, 343 frogs, 141f, 146, 147, 170, 176–77n2; on Altar of Frogs, 166–67; depictions of, 160, 161–62, 169f; leopard (Rana; Lithobates), 164, 166; and rainy season, 26, 175, 176, 405–6; at Sacred Cenote, 12, 131f, 135, 136f, 138f, 139, 148, 149, 150n4; shell images of, 171, 172f; symbolism of, 140–43; in Templo Mayor, 12, 167–68 gastropods, 173 Gemini, as scorpion, 232 gender: identity and, 24; serpents and, 12–13 Gila monster, 58

I N D EX

415

416

God D. See Itzamna Goddess O, 377 God G1, 309 Great Ball Court (Chichen Itza), 44f, 122, 148; cenote depicted at, 135, 137f; Composite Creature on, 38f, 83n61 Great Platform (Chichen Itza), 35, 56, 74n2, 135 Great Terrace (Chichen Itza), 133, 145, 150n7 Great White Coati, 379, 385, 386 Great White Peccary, 385 God D, 60, 61f, 62f, 64, 65f, 80n44, 366n9, 376; Itzamnaaj as, 66f, 67f, 70 God GI, 68 God K, 354 God L, 234f, 376; and opossums, 15, 373, 382 God N, 359, 373, 375f, 376, 388, 395n3, 396n6; animals associated with, 385, 393 God P, 385, 395n3 Göetze, Christian, and Dresden Codex, 343 gold, symbolism of, 266, 267–68 gourd, tobacco (yetecomatl), 297 grackle, great-tailed (Quiscalus mexicanus), 305 Greco-Roman constellations, 405 greenstone, 265; symbolism of, 268–69. See also jade, jadeite Griffin, 404 Guatemala, 3, 7 Guerrero, 222

Huei Cuauhxicalco, 247 Huey Tozoztli feast, quail and, 206–7 huipil, and scorpion stings, 13, 223, 227–29, 239, 240 Huitzilopochtli (Hummingbird, Left), 13, 181, 186f, 192, 203, 212, 247, 290, 297, 301, 406, 407; and Coyolxauhqui, 185, 187, 188f; ornaments, 266, 267; and quail, 206, 214; and Xiuhcoatl, 294–95 Huk Sip (Deer God), 16 human faces, in Venus Platform motifs, 70–73 human flesh, in ritual food, 212 human skeletal remains, 14; in Sacred Cenote (Chichen Itza), 39, 147–48, 149–50n2 hummingbirds, 5, 8, 9, 266, 268, 306, 331n26, 402; blue-throat (Lampornis celmenciae), 304; broad-tailed (Selasphorus platycercus), 304; Costa’s (Calypte costae), 304; green (Archilochus colubris), 304; magnificent/ Rivoli’s (Eugenes fulgens), 304; and rainy season, 295, 406; ruby-throated (Archilochus colubris), 304; in Templo Mayor, 265, 270f, 271; as Volatile, 300, 301, 304 Hunahpu, 380, 381–82 Hunahpu Coyote, 384–85 Hunahpu Possum (Hunahpu Uch), 15, 382–83, 384–85, 393 hunting almanacs, 16; deer in, 314–15

haab cycle, 357, 358f, 361, 362–63 harpy eagle, 64–65, 66f harrier, northern (Circus cyaneus hudsonius), 297 hawk-eagle, black (Spizaetus tyrannus), 305 hawks (Buteo sp.), 3, 299; ornaments with, 262, 263, 265, 267–68; in Templo Mayor, 246, 247, 406, 407 Hercules, 405 Hero Twins, in Popol Vuh, 82n57, 380, 386 Hidalgo, 222 Historia de las Indias (Durán), 182 Historia de los mexicanos por sus pinturas (Garibay), 191–92 Historia de Yucatan (López de Cogolludo), 350 Histoyre du Mechique, 72, 76n15, 80n41 Honduras, 3 House of the Eagles (Tenochtitlan), 167 Huehuecoyotl (coyote god), 307, 311, 384f, 385 Huehueteotl, 385 huehuetl, 227

Ice Age, animal imagery, 16 iguanas, 45, 58, 311–12 Ilamatecuhtli, 267 INAH. See National Institute of Anthropology and History incense burners, and frogs and toads, 167 insignia, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 262–69 investitures, 41, 42 Itzamat Ul, 60 Itzam 81n48, 82n54 Itza Maya, 7–8 Itzam Earth Crocodile, 61 Itzam K’ab Ayiin (Itzam Kab Ayiin; Itzam Earth Alligator), 62, 65, 70, 72, 373, 377, 389, 390f, 391f, 393, 394; associations with, 61–62f; characteristics of, 62–64, 67 Itzam Kokaaj Muut, 64, 70, 82n54, 82n55 Itzamna (Sun God), 15, 341, 347, 359, 363, 366n9, 375f, 380, 389, 390f, 392, 393, 395n4,

I N D EX

395n6; animal aspects of, 373, 375; as God D, 61f, 62f, 376; as peccary, 386, 387 Itzamnaaj, 61f, 72, 80n42, 80n43, 82n53, 82n55, 82n58; as bird, 64–65, 82n57; as Composite Creature, 59–60, 67–69; as God D, 60, 66f, 67f, 70; as Itzam Kab Ayiin, 62–64 Itzam Na Yax Kokaaj Muut, 64–67 Itzcuintli, 316 Itztlacoliuhqui, 266, 296 Itzpapalotl (Obsidian Butterfly), 207, 267, 307; in Codex Borgia, 322–23 Ix Chel, 347, 366n9 Ixcuina. See Tlazolteotl Ixil, 374 Ix Tolil, 352 Ix Toloch, 352 Izapa, 2, 12, 17, 81n47, 408; toad altars in, 147, 160 Izcalli festival, 14, 213, 295, 298, 324, 328n14; animal sacrifices in, 286–87; in Codex Borgia, 289, 290, 326n6; and new fire, 326n7, 329n19; and Xiuhtecuhtli, 292–94 jackrabbit (Lepus flavigularis), 316 jade, jadeite, 47, 140, 168, 319, 407. See also chalchihuitl symbols jaguar god, and Mixcoatl, 295–96 Jaguar God of the Underworld, 18 jaguars (Panthera onca), 3, 5, 9, 15, 17, 26, 78n31, 103, 106, 107f, 150n8, 151n12, 148, 256, 264, 329n20, 402; and Composite Creature, 47–49; as day sign, 307, 319–20; in directional almanacs, 288, 296; Maya leadership, 18, 19; ornaments with, 262, 263, 266; and rulership, 27, 146–47; at Sacred Cenote, 12, 132f, 135, 138f, 139, 143, 149; in Templo Mayor, 246, 247, 260, 406, 407; at Teotihuacan, 11, 105, 114f Juxtlahuaca, 18 Kaminaljuyu, Stela 11, 17 Kan u Uayeyab, 348 Katun cycle rituals, 310–11 Kaua, 374 Kaweq family, 374 K’awiil, 375 K’iche’ Maya, 374, 378 K’in Ahaw, 375 Kinich Ahau Itzamna, 359 K’inich Ajaw, 380

K’inich Yax K’uk Mo’ (Great Sun First/ Bluegreen Quetzal Macaw), 39 Klein, Cecelia, 5–6; publications of, 28–34; scholarship of, 23–25 knives, 323; flint, 295, 311, 320–21 K’uk’ulkan. See Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan La Campana (Colima), 161 Lady Quetzal, Lady Lovely Cotinga, 72 Lagartija Mountain (Puebla), spring at, 166 La Herradura vessel lid, 80n34 Landa, Diego de, 7, 8, 15, 42, 77n19, 404; at Chichen Itza, 135, 138–39; Relación de las cosas de Yucatan, 343, 344, 345–48, 350, 375 Laud Codex, 47, 235, 316 laughing falcon, 65, 266 La Venta, 17–18, 140 Legend of the Suns, 256 legs. See feet and legs Leo, peccary constellation and, 387, 388 Lepidoptera, 301. See also butterflies Leyenda de los soles, 43, 206, 209 limpet, giant Mexican (Patella [Scutellastra] Mexicana), 173 lions, in Chauvet cave, 16 Little Dipper, as Xonecuilli, 294 Lizana, Bernardo, 58 lizards, 45; beaded (Heloderma horridum), 58; crested green (Basiliscus plumifrons), 58; as day sign, 311–12 lobster, sacrifice of, 407 López de Cogolludo, Diego, 350 Los Sapos, animal and human imagery at, 147 Lower Temple of the Jaguars (Chichen Itza), 72, 73f macaw, 301; in directional almanac, 298, 299; scarlet (Ara macao), 288, 305 Madrid Codex, 9, 15, 16, 146, 234f, 237, 343, 366n9, 374, 392, 395n3, 396–97n16; directions in, 346f, 346–47, 362–63; humananimal forms in, 360–61; opossums in, 341, 382, 383f, 383–84f, 384; rain ceremonies in, 140, 142f; scorpion constellations and deer, 231f, 232 maguey, and rabbit, 316 maize, maize plants, 47, 72, 404; and Maya rulership, 73, 74, 83n55; as world tree, 297, 298–99

I N D EX

417

Maize God, 330n23, 392; Mayan, 72, 73f, 80n38 male and female aspects, 220–21; scorpions, 239–40 Mam, 352, 359, 382, 393, 396n13 mammals, 10, 14, 107; at Tenochtitlan, 250–51t, 253f, 254f, 260–61. See also by type Maní, 374 Man-Serpent-Jaguar, 37 maquixcoatl, 191f, 192, 193. See also snakes: coral marriage almanacs: scorpions in, 235f, 236f; Xochiquetzal in, 236–37 Mars, and peccary, 388f, 389, 392, 394 Martyr d’Angliera, Peter, 343 masks, 17; human skin, 70, 71 mats, 18; serpent, 47, 408; symbol, 41, 47 Maya, 6, 7–8, 16, 44, 45, 75–76n9, 76n12, 115, 116, 161, 220, 234, 237, 315, 328, 324, 374, 408; creator gods, 393–95; Composite Creatures and, 37–38, 52–54, 55; crocodilians, 58, 309–10; Dresden Codex, 343–45; fertility and rain symbolism, 140, 142f, 142–45; fire rituals, 150–51n9; flood myths, 61–62; jaguar imagery, 18–19; maize and, 72–73, 80n38; opossums, 14–15; orthography, 9–10; reptile conflation, 56, 58; rulership symbols, 146–48 Mayahuel, 83n63 Mayapan, 8, 147, 283; Fisherman mural at, 309–11, 324; monkey scribe sculpture, 318, 319f, 332n31; serpent depictions in, 313f, 313–14 Mazatl (Deer), 314 Mendieta, Gerónimo de, 43, 162 Mendoza, Codex, 230, 301 Mercury, 317 merganser, hooded (Lophodytes cucullatus), 51 Mexica, Mexicans, 6, 14, 39, 83n63, 181, 195n1, 271; civil war, 187, 190; Composite Creatures and, 37–38; plant fertility symbols, 70, 72 Mezquital, Valley of, cave art in, 5 Mictlan, 209 Mictlantecuhtli (Death Lord), 266, 267, 268, 298; dog and, 316–17 military groups/orders, 296; animals associated with, 269, 408; elite, 114–15; imagery, 116–17 military power, 227, 246, 269 military training, Yappan, 222

418

I N D EX

Milky Way, 3, 81n49, 226, 323, 331–32n28, 397n18; Starry Deer Crocodile as, 18, 79n36, 310 Mimixcoa, 204 Mixcoatepec, 204 Mixcoatl, 256, 266, 329n20; in Codex Borgia, 295–96 Mixtec, 70, 313, 328n15; Fire Serpent, 45f, 328n13; frog depictions, 161–62 Moctezuma I (Motecuhzoma Ilhuicamina), 189, 190, 196n11, 196n17, 247 Moctezuma II (Motecuhzoma Xocoyotzin), 9, 183, 184, 247, 344 monkeys, 17, 290; as day sign, 317–18; howler (Alouatta palliata), 317, 319, 332n30, 332n31; spider (Ateles geoffroyi vellerosus), 267, 317, 318 Monkey Scribe, 332n31; at Mayapan, 318, 319f, 320 Monte Alban, 139, 140 Montejo, Maya conquest, 7–8 moon, 187, 204, 315; jaguar and, 15, 295–96, 320; and rabbit, 298, 316; and Xochiquetzal, 223, 236 Moon God, 19 Moon Goddess (Ix Chel), 237, 347, 407 morality tales, 27, 402 morning star, 40, 43. See also Venus moth, Itzpapalotl and, 322 Mundo Perdido (Tikal), 39 murals, 3, 161; at Mayapan, 309–11, 313f, 313–14 naguals, nagualme, 9, 114, 343, 360, 362; opossums as, 15, 354–55 Nahuas, 200, 315 Nahuatl language, 6, 8 National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH), 244 necklaces, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 263, 267 netted glyph, and opossums, 376, 385 nettles: scorpion (colotzitzcazti), 229–30 New Fire ceremony, 77n19, 120, 183; Izcalli and, 293, 326n7, 329n19; offerings, 173–74; and Venus Platform, 42–43 New Year ceremonies, 350, 366–67n11; Dresden Codex, 342f, 343, 345–48, 349f, 361–63; opossums in, 15, 341, 354–55, 360, 404, 406 night, animals of, 146, 204, 206, 295

Nine Lords of the Night, 319, 331n27 North Temple Great Ball Court (Chichen Itza), 147, 148 Northwest Colonnade (Chichen Itza), 75n8; Composite Creatures on, 37, 70, 75n4 nose ornaments, 115, 209, 267; in Templo Mayor, 263, 264; stepped pyramid, 70–71f, 83n62, 83n63 numerology, 323, 331n27; birds and, 14, 305–6 Oaxaca, Cerro Tehuehuetl in, 222 Ocelocuauhxicalli, 267, 268 Ocelotl, 5, 319 ocelots, 4 Ochpaniztli festival: quail in, 204, 207, 208 Offering H (Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone), 247; puma and wolf in, 255f, 259, 260, 265 Offering 125 (Templo Mayor), 258f; eagles in, 263, 266; wolf in, 258f, 259 Offering 174 (Templo Mayor), wolf in, 259, 264f, 265 Offering 178 (Templo Mayor), 259; jaguar in, 260, 264 Offering 179 (Templo Mayor), 245f, 259; ornaments with, 267–68 offerings, 16, 79n33, 215n6, 409; of amphibians, 167–68; heart, 297, 298, 321; in Pyramid of the Moon, 116–17; quail, 201, 212–13; in Sacred Cenotes, 133, 135, 136f, 146; in Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 4, 14, 173–74, 245f, 246–47, 256, 259–66, 271, 324, 403–4, 406 Old World, composite creatures in, 404–5 Oliva shell pendants, 262, 264, 267 Olmec, 12, 139, 140; harpy eagle, 18, 408; iconography, 3–4, 18 Omacatl, scepters with, 268 Omitecutli (Bone Lord), 192 One Maize Crocodile (Tzam Kab Ayiin), 72 opossums (Didelphis sp.; Opossum virginianus), 8, 9, 235, 356, 357, 373, 376, 393, 396n5, 404, 406; and creator gods, 381f, 381–85; in Dresden Codex, 14–15, 26, 341, 343, 351f, 352f, 353f, 360, 361–63, 365n5; as naguales, 354–55; and peccaries, 387–88; in Popol Vuh, 15, 204, 379, 406; as uayeb symbol, 350–54; and Xpiyacoc, 374, 380 Order of the Ocelotl (ocelopetatl), 296

Orion, 232, 329n19, 405 ornaments, in Templo Mayo ritual deposits, 262–69 Osario Group (Chichen Itza), Venus Platform at, 37, 49, 51, 70, 75n5 Osario Pyramid, 70 owls, 3, 9, 306; barn (Tyto alba), 305; great horned (Bubo virginianus), 305; horned, 288, 298; screech (Megascops sp.), 301, 305, 402; as Volatiles, 300, 302 Oxtotitlan, 18 Ozomatli (Monkey), 317 Palenque, 62, 68, 309; Temple XIX, 68 Pan, 405 Panquetzaliztli celebrations, 268, 293f, 294, 295, 321, 328–29n16 Paris Codex, 81n49, 146, 232, 343, 374f; birds in, 330–31n25, 396n6; human-animal forms in, 360–61 parrots, 4, 301; yellow-headed (Amazona oratrix), 305 Pa’Ruchi’Abaj, 16 PAU. See Urban Archaeology Program Pauahs, 357, 373 Pawahtun, 373, 375, 395n3 Paxil, 392–93 Paynal, 203 pearl shell (oyster) (Pinctada mazatlanica), in Templo Mayor, 170, 171, 172f peccaries, 15, 26, 381f, 396–97n16, 397n17, 397n19; celestial associations, 393–94; and creator gods, 385–89, 395; and crocodilians, 389f, 389–93; and Xpiyacoc, 374, 379, 380 Pérez Codex, 62 Pérez de Heredia, Eduardo, 139 Perseus, 405 Peten lakes region, 7 petroglyphs, animal mask, 17 Piedras Negras, Stela 6, 58 Piltzintecuhtli (Young Lord), 228, 229, 230, 407 Pio Pérez, Juan, 357, 367–68n17 plants, 72; as fertility symbols, 70–71. See also maize; world trees Platform of the Eagles and Jaguars (Chichen Itza), 49, 50f, 75n8, 106 Plaza del Volador (Mexico City), 173 Pleiades, 294, 328n14, 329n17 Pop/K’anjalaab, 41, 42

I N D EX

419

Popol Vuh, 7, 15, 26, 328n14, 404, 406; birds in, 330-31n25; creator gods and animals, 374, 393–95; opossum in, 204, 381–85; Paxil in, 392–93; peccary in, 385–89; Xmucane and Xpiyacoc in, 378–80 Postclassic period, 7, 10, 11, 16, 35, 70, 403, 408; talud-tablero architecture, 38–39; Tula predatory animals frieze, 104–5, 106 Preclassic period, 38, 408; toad sculptures, 160–61 predators, 3, 27; friezes of, 104–10, 115–16, 118; at Teotihuacan, 116–17; in Tenochtitlan, 407–8; at Tula, 11–12. See also by type Primeros Memoriales, 6, 227, 294 Principal Bird Deity. See Itzam Kokaaj Muut Prisoners: in Madrid Codex, 383–84f; punishment/torture of, 229–30 PTM. See Templo Mayor Project Puebla, 9, 166, 313 Puebla-Tlaxcala Valley, 6, 7, 282 pulque, and rabbits, 316 pumas (Puma concolor), 107, 148, 262, 265, 268; and rulership, 27, 408; in Templo Mayor, 246, 247, 255f, 260, 261, 406, 407; Teotihuacan offerings, 113, 117, 269 punishment, scorpions and nettles in, 229–30 Pyramid B (Tula), 11–12, 118; predatory animals frieze, 104–10, 115–17, 120 Pyramid C (Tula), 110, 120 Pyramid of the Moon (Teotihuacan), 110; predator burials at, 113, 116–17, 269 Pyramid of the Sun (Teotihuacan), 105, 110, 121; felines at, 118, 119f, 120, 123n4, 123–24n5 quail: banded, barred (Phylortyx fasciatus), 304; and bone breakage, 209–10; in divination and healing, 210–12; Montezuma (Cyrtonyx montezumae), 8, 201, 205f, 209, 214n1, 304; northern bobwhite (Colinus virginianus), 201; sacrifices of, 13, 26, 200–201f, 203f, 203–4, 206–7, 208–9, 212–13, 215n6; scaled (Caliplepla squamata), 201; and starry sky, 203, 214, 407; and Tonatiuh, 306, 407 Quauhtlotli, 297 quetzal, resplendent (Pharomachrus mocinno), 40, 51, 290, 305, 312, 329n21, 330n23, 408; in directional almanac, 287, 288, 292, 299; as Volatile, 301, 305

420

I N D EX

Quetzalcoatl/K’uk’ulkan, 3, 76n14, 77n19, 80n41, 83n60, 143, 145, 146, 204, 209, 284, 290, 309, 312, 317, 318, 408; at Chichen Itza, 139, 147; Composite Creature as, 40, 47–48, 51; and Itzamnaaj, 59–60, 70, 72; at Mayapan, 313–14, 324; on Venus Platform, 44, 69–70 Quetzalhuizil, 304 Quetzal-serpent, 312–13, 314 Quirigua, 51 Q’umarkaj, 374 rabbit, 214n1, 284, 387, 402; cottontail (Sylvilagus floridanus), 316; as day sign, 315–16; in directional almanac, 288, 298 rain, 74; animal symbolism and, 26, 142f, 142–45, 167, 394–95, 396–97n16; ceremonies, 140, 175 Rainbow Serpent, 37 rainy season: animals and, 12, 26, 162, 167, 295, 304, 402, 405–6 Rana (Lithobates): berlandieri, 166; neovolcanica, 166; tlaloci, 164, 166 raptors, 304; Composite Creature as, 49, 82n55; in directional almanacs, 288, 297, 299; at Teotihuacan, 113, 117; at Tula Pyramid B frieze, 106, 108f, 109. See also by type rattlesnakes (Crotalus sp.), 8, 117, 312, 407; vs. coral snakes, 193–94; spotted yellow, 312; symbolism of, 143–45, 181–83f raven, as Volatile, 305 Red Temple (Cacaxtla), 139, 161 Red Temple (Templo Mayor), 321 Relación de la Ciudad de Mérida, 58 Relación de las cosas de Yucatan (Landa), 343, 344, 362–63, 375; and bacabs, 350, 359; as birthdates and destinies, 356–57; and New Year ceremonies description, 345–48 Relación de Valladolid, 386 Relaciones Geográficas, 7 reptiles, 10, 45, 56, 58. See also by type reptile-avian-human conflations, 69 ritual deposits: animal burials in, 256–62, 271; ornaments and insignia with, 262–69; Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 244–45f, 246–59, 269–70 ritual garments, in Templo Mayor, 170–73 Ritual of the Bacabs: birds in, 330–31n25; reptiles in, 56, 58

rituals, 175; Katun, 310–11; quail sacrifices and, 200–201f, 206, 212–13 rubber balls, and quail, 201, 201f Ruiz de Alarcón, Hernando, 8, 13, 221 rulership: at Chichen Itza, 130, 132–33; failed, 185–86; Maya, 73, 146–48; predators and, 27, 408; serpents and, 181–85, 188–89; symbols of, 18–19, 121–22; Teotihuacan imagery, 114, 118–21

Serpent Mountain, 189 serpents, 5, 17, 44, 76n14, 309, 354; and Coyolxauhqui Stone, 190–91; day sign, 312–14; double-headed, 18, 192–93; and gender, 12–13; and leaderships, 180–81, 408; and rulership, 182–85, 186, 194–95; at Sacred Cenote, 139, 149. See also Feathered Serpents; Fire Serpent; snakes; War Serpent Seven Macaw, 385–86 Sacbe 1 (Chichen Itza), 150n7, 151n12; feathsexuality, sex, 227, 311; Xochiquetzal and ered serpents at, 135, 138, 139, 144f, 145–46 Yappan and, 222–25, 236–37 sacbes, 148 shaft tombs, toad and frog ceramics in, 161 Sacred Cenote (Chichen Itza), 83n61, 134f, shamanism, 9, 18–19, 24, 81n51 151n11; animal imagery at, 12, 26, 27, 122, shark, 288, 309, 329n20 130–33, 135–38, 139–40, 150n4; fertility and shark teeth, in Maya imagery, 52–53 rain symbolism at, 143–44; human remains shell ornaments, 317; with frog images, 171, in, 39, 147–48, 149–50n2; Bishop Landa at, 172f 138–39; and Sacbe 1, 145–46 shields, 264, 268 sacrifice(s), 17, 109, 123n2, 151n12, 256, 296, 307, shrines, hunting, 16, 315 402; animal, 14, 26, 114, 260–61, 269, 286–87, Sierra Nahuat, 9 324, 407, 409; Aztec, 24, 43–44; human, 27, skin masks, 71–71 110, 114, 147–48; during Izcalli, 286–87, 298; skull racks, Chichen Itza, 106, 147–48 of quail, 13, 202, 203–4, 206–7, 208–9, 212–13, skunks, 266 304; trees of, 290, 292, 297 sky serpent, Composite Creature as, 41 Sac u Uayeyab, 348 snakes, 12, 26, 44, 150n5, 406; coral (maquiSahagún, Bernardino de, 8, 162, 201, 227, 232, xcoatl), 13, 186, 193–94f, 407; green vine 355; on Etzalcualiztli, 212–13; Florentine (Oxybelis fulgidus), 408; symbolism of, Codex, 4, 6, 7, 186, 404 143–45, 148. See also rattlesnakes; serpents San Bartolo, 82n56, 139 solar imagery, 19, 120, 297. See also sun San Bartolo Yautepec Codex, 70 Sorcerer Panel (Chauvet cave), bison-headed San Lorenzo, 161 “man,” 16 Santiago Atitlán, 16, 17, 315 South Temple (Chichen Itza), 38 sawfish, in Cipactli figure, 53, 55 sparrow hawks, 206 scepters, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 268 spindles and whorls, and Xochiquetzal, Scorpio, Scorpius, 232, 233, 238, 328n15, 235–36 328–29n16, 405; and Xiuhcoatl, 294, 295 springs, Lagartija Mountain, 166 scorpions, 26, 27, 7n10; constellations, 9, 13, spoonbill, roseate, 4, 270f, 271, 402 231f, 231–33, 294–95, 328n15; creation of, squirrels, as substitute baby jaguar, 17 219, 221; and deer, 230–32; mating behavior, standard/flag bearers, frog sculptures as, 165f, 237–38; red or red and yellow, 234–37; red 166 and black, 233–34, 239–40; stings of, 228, Starry Deer Crocodiles, 18, 55, 61, 79n36, 81n49, 230, 240; symbolism, 13, 406–7; and Yappan, 310 221–22, 223–27, 229 starry sky/night, Montezuma quail and, 203, seasonality, 9, 176, 295. See also dry season; 206, 214 rainy season “Star Wars,” 43 Serna, Jacinto de la, 8, 230 Storm God, 120 serpent-crocodile conflation, 55 Sub-Jaguar tomb (Copan Ruler 8), tripod Serpent Mat, 193; depictions of, 188–89 vessel, 52, 54f, 56, 78n28

I N D EX

421

sun, 206, 290, 297, 304, 315, 397n17, 402, 405, 406; birth of, 204, 214n1; creation of, 202, 203f; and eagle, 255–56, 296, 321, 332–33n33 Sun God, 359 swordfish, as acipaquitli, 311 symbolism, animal, 8, 25–27 tadpoles, 406 talons, raptor, 49, 64 talud-tablero architecture, Teotihuacan, 38–39 Tamoanchan, 72, 83n64, 323 Tayasal, 161 teal, Nahuatl names for, 8 Techinantitla, 113 Tehuehuetl (Stone Drum), and Yappan, 221, 222 Telleriano-Remensis, Codex, 286 Temalacatzingo (Guerrero), 175 Temple of the Big Tables (Chichen Itza), 139 Temple of the Feathered Serpent (Teotihuacan), 119–20 Temple of the Warriors (Chichen Itza), 75n8, 106, 124n6, 135, 139, 148; Composite Creatures at, 37, 48f, 70 Templo Mayor, 4, 163, 181, 201, 294, 319; Altar of the Frogs, 164–67, 176; Coyolxauhqui images on, 187–93; crocodilians, 58, 80n40, 307; eagles, wolves, and felines in, 269, 271; frogs and toads, 12, 167–68, 173–74; and Huitzilopochtli, 186f, 406; offerings in, 14, 246–47, 324, 403–4, 407–8; ritual garments in, 170–73 Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 246–47; birds in, 248–49t, 252f, 260; 261–62; crocodiles in, 58; mammals in, 250–51t, 253f, 254f, 259–61; ornaments and insignia in, 262–69; ritual deposits at, 269–71 Templo Mayor Project (PTM), 14, 244 Tenochtitlan, 4, 6, 180, 196–97n18; amphibian offerings, 167–68; animal burial contexts, 256–59; dressed birds in, 248–49t, 252f, 260; dressed mammals in, 250–51t, 253f, 254f, 260–61; offerings, 407–8; sacred precinct, 244, 248–55; and Tlatelolco, 190, 193, 195n1. See also Templo Mayor Teotihuacan, 5, 7, 12, 19, 56, 58, 67, 71, 79n34, 82n54, 111f, 269, 320, 403; animal parade friezes at, 113, 118–21, 119f; butterfly depictions, 46–47; carnivore images at, 110,

422

I N D EX

114f, 139; and Composite Creatures, 52, 53f, 78n27; Pyramid of the Moon, 116–17; Pyramid of the Sun, 120, 123n4; taludtablero architecture, 38–39; and Tula, 11, 105, 122; warrior sodalities, 12, 27, 123n3; War Serpent at, 39, 75–76n9 Teotitlán del Camino (Oaxaca), frog images, 161–62 Tepeyollotl (Heart of the Mountain), 256, 320, 331n27; as jaguar god, 307, 319 Tepozteco, 185 Tepoztlan, 185 Tetitla, 113, 119 Texcoco, Xiuhcoatl from, 182f Tezcatlipoca, 80n41, 212, 256, 268, 309; avatars, 266, 384; and quail, 207, 214n3, 215n6 Tezozomoc, 233 theosynthesis, 11, 38, 70 Tikal, 17, 39; Burial 10 (Yax Nuun Ayiin) at, 52, 55f, 58, 79n33; jaguar imagery in, 18, 19 Tizimín, 374 Tizoc, 247 Tlacaxipehualiztli (Flying of Men), 206, 308f, 315 Tlachieloni, 268 Tlacochcalco Yaotl, 268 Tlahuahuanaliztli, 206 Tlahuitzin (Burning One), 225, 238, 240; punishment, 226, 229, 239; as red scorpion, 225, 233 Tlahuizcalpanteuctli (Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli; Dawn Lord), 43, 266, 306, 307; as astral entity, 203, 206; in directional almanac, 296–97 Tlaloc, 4, 23, 52, 71, 78n31, 164, 212, 247, 266, 406; at Chichen Itza, 73–74; frogs and toads, 12, 26, 167–68, 170, 171; images of, 120, 124n6, 174, 175f; water associations, 174, 175f Tlaloc-Tlaltecuhtli, 174, 175f Tlaloque, 175 “Tlaloc-Venus War,” 43 Tlaltecuhtli (Tlalteuctli; Earth Lord), 9, 12, 57f, 59, 80n41, 167, 211, 228, 267, 268, 309, 310, 406; images of, 162–64 Tlaquechcotonaliztli, 200–201 Tlatelolco, Tlatelolcans, 192, 193; and Tenochtitlan, 190, 195n1 Tlaxcala, 6, 7, 237, 295, 324 Tlazolteotl, 83n63, 320

Tlazolteotl-Ixcuina, 267 toads, 135, 147, 407; burrowing, nose, uo (Rhinophrynus dorsalis), 162, 163–64, 177n3; depictions of, 12, 169f, 170f, 171f; Gulf Coast (Bufo valliceps; Incilius valliceps), 164; marine (Bufo marinus; Rhinella marina), 143, 160, 161f; in Olmec art, 160–61; and rainy season, 26, 143, 175, 176, 405–6; in Templo Mayor, 167–68 Tochtli (Rabbit), 315 Toci-Tlazolteotl, quail and, 204, 205f, 207, 208 Tojolabal, 232 Tolil Och, 352 Tollan, 110 Tollan phase, 106 tomb guardians, dogs as, 19 tombs, at Teotihuacan, 116–17 Tonacacihuatl, 192 Tonacatecuhtli, 192, 309, 331–32n28 tonalme, 9 tonalpohualli (count of days), 283; in Codex Borgia, 285–86 Tonatiuh (Sun God), 203, 290, 330n23; and quail, 306, 407 tongues: Composite Creature’s, 35, 45–46; on Venus Platform, 35 Topiltzin (Topiltzin-Quetzalcoatl), 40, 51, 60, 70, 76n15, 185 torches, and opossums, 382 Torquemada, Juan de, 206–7 Totocalli, 4 Toxcatl festival, 23; quail in, 207, 212 transformation, 3, 360, 406; human-animal, 9, 368n19, 404–5 Tratado de las supersticiones (Ruiz Alarcón), 13, 209 trees: crocodiles and, 408; and Itzpapalotl, 322–23; of Sacrifice, 290, 292, 297, 321 triggerfish, queen (Balistes vetula), 309 tri-stepped nose ornament, 70, 75n4, 83n61, 83n62, 83n63 Tudela Codex, 306, 329n21; Volatiles in, 300, 301, 304, 305, 330n24 Tula, 40, 43, 77n18, 122, 139, 269, 403; Composite Creatures at, 39, 75n8; predators at, 11–12, 27; processing animals at, 104–10, 123–24n5; Pyramid B, 115–16, 118, 120 Tula Chico, 75n8, 110, 113f, 122; jaguars and eagles at, 106, 107f

Tula Grande, 11–12, 122; plan and orientation of, 110, 111, 112f; Pyramid B frieze, 106, 109 Tulum, 8 turkeys, 212, 214n1, 266, 296, 306, 307, 379; oscellated (Meleagris ocellata), 305 turquoise, 267, 306 turtles, 15, 58, 80n38, 173, 373, 374; and God N, 376, 385 Tzitzimime deities, 267 Tzitzimitl, 267, 268 tzolkin, 347–48, 366n8 Tzompantli (Chichen Itza), 106, 147–48 tzontecommama (ahuaca chapullin; avocado locust), 226 Tzotzil, 17, 232 Tzotzoma, assassination of, 182, 183f Tz’utujil Maya, 16, 167, 404 Uayebs, 357, 359; opossums as, 26, 361 uayeb/wayeb ceremonies, 359, 360, 362–63; bacabs and, 347–48; opossums and, 15, 350–54, 357, 393 Uayeyabs, 48. See also Bacabs/Pauahtuns underworld, 187, 269, 308, 382; dogs in, 19, 317; and shark teeth, 52–53 Urban Archaeology Program (PAU), 246 Ursa Major, 238, 294, 295; scorpion asterisms as, 232, 233, 328n15 vagina: as fertility symbol, 166; tellurian, 307, 308 Vaticanus A Codex, 269, 384; Tonacatecuhtli, 309, 331–32n28 Vaticanus B Codex, 235, 311, 329n20, 384 Venus, 19, 72, 110, 206, 220, 296, 312, 317, 328n15, 332n30, 388, 396n15, 396–97n16; and captive sacrifices, 43–44; and Composite Creature, 40–41; in Dresden Codex, 76n16, 373; and Feathered Serpents, 77n18, 284, 324, 408; observations of, 61, 77n20; on Venus Platform, 41–42f Venus cycle, 43, 77n20, 77n21, 83n65 Venus Platforms (Chichen Itza), 11, 26, 40, 74n1, 75n6, 77n21, 83n65, 145; Composite Creatures at, 37–38, 44–46, 49, 51, 56, 58–59, 73–74; and dedicatory ceremonies, 42–43; human faces at, 70–73; iconography on, 41–42f; and Itzamnaaj, 59–60; panels on, 35–37 Venus Scorpion Man cult, 237

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Vermillion Bird of the South, 405 vinik/winik, 356, 361 Vision Serpents, 115 Voladores, 17 Volatiles, 306, 330n24; birds as, 299–305, 404 vultures: as day sign, 322–23; king (Sarcoramphus papa; cozcaquahtli), 322, 323; in Tula Pyramid B frieze, 108f, 109 warfare, 27, 109, 267; Venus and, 43, 44 war gods, 266, 268 warriors, warrior orders, 27, 40, 117, 123n3, 267, 268; animal imagery and, 19, 121–22, 269, 271, 402, 403, 408; elite orders of, 114–15 War Serpent, 39–40, 44, 45, 75–76n9, 76n10, 123n4, 124n6; at Tula Grande, 110, 115, 122 Water-lily Jaguar, 18 way/uay, 18, 355f, 354, 361; as co-essence, 355–56, 362 weapons, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 264–65, 268 weaving tools, in Templo Mayor ritual deposits, 265, 269 were-jaguar, 4; marine toads as, 161 West Mexico, 19, 161 White Patio (Teotihuacan), animal frieze, 113, 114f White Tigre of the West, 405 wind, and quetzal serpent, 314 winter solstice, and Huitzilopochtli, 294 wolves (Canis lupus baileyi), 107, 256, 268; dressed, 253f, 260; with ornaments and objects, 262, 263, 264f, 265; in rulerships, 27, 408; in Templo Mayor Archaeological Zone, 125, 246, 247, 253f, 255f, 258f, 259, 260, 407; Teotihuacan offerings, 113, 117, 269, 406 world (cosmic) trees, 14, 63, 82n46, 378; destructions and creations, 345–46; in directional almanacs, 296, 297; maize plant as, 298–99 Wrist ornaments, 60, 80n45 Xbalanque, 15 Xibalba, 380 Xicalango, 6, 76n14 Xilonen, 83n63 Xipe Totec (Flayer God), 52, 78–79n31, 214n2, 266, 319; quail and, 204, 207 Xiuhcoatl. See Fire Serpents

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Xiuhtototl, 83n64 xiuhmolpilli, 42 Xiuhtecuhtli (Fire God), 207, 237, 240, 266, 267, 268, 306, 328n13, 331n26, 385; in directional almanac, 292, 293–94 Xmucane, 15, 374, 386; aspects of, 378–80, 381f, 393–95; possum and coyote, 384–85 Xochicalco, 76n11, 116, 122, 139 Xochimilco, Lake, Tlaloc’s leopard frog in, 164 Xochipilli (Flower Prince), 70, 83n63, 83n64, 267, 297, 318, 321, 324 Xochiquetzal (Flower-quetzal), 27, 72, 207, 235–36; and Yappan, 13, 221, 222–23, 226–27, 228–29, 230, 239–40 xoloitzcuintli, 317 Xolotl, 19, 268, 307, 317, 322 Xonecuilli, 294 Xpiyacoc, 15, 374, 382; aspects of, 378–80, 381f, 389, 393–95; possum and coyote, 384–85 yacaxihuitl, 267 Yaotl, 226, 240, 407; and Yappan, 222, 223–24, 225 Yappan, 13, 219, 238, 239, 406–7; and scorpion, 223–24; and Xochiquetzal, 221–27, 228–29, 230 Yaxchilan, 343, 354 Yax Itzam (First/Bluegreen Itzam), 58 Yax Kokaj Muut, 64–65 Yax Nuun Ayiin I (First/Bluegreen-KnotCrocodile), 52, 58, 78n30, 79n33 yax sign, 80n44, 82n53 yearbearers, 15, 325n2, 326–27n8, 357, 382; in Codex Borgia, 289, 290, 291t, 326n4 year signs, 43, 325n2, 326n9, 326n10; in Codex Borgia, 285–86, 289, 291t year-end ceremonies, 310, 333n34, 404, 406 Yucatan Peninsula, 3, 232; bird symbolism in, 330–31n25; cenotes in, 133–34; and Dresden Codex, 343–44; Postclassic Maya, 14–15; Spanish conquest, 7–8 Yucatec Maya, 72, 232, 397n21 Zeus ( Jupiter), 405 Zinacantan, 6 Zinnan, 232 Zipacna, 328n14, 397n21; in Popol Vuh, 392–93, 394

About the Authors

Elizabeth Aguilera has a PhD in the history of art and architecture from the University of California, Santa Barbara. She taught art history at California State University, Long Beach, the University of California, Santa Cruz, the University of California, Santa Barbara, and Arizona State University. Her research interests include the connections between material objects, religion, and politics in PreColumbian Latin America. She is the author of “Malintzin as a Visual Metaphor in the Lienzo de Tlaxcala” (2014) and “The Materiality of Aztec Agricultural Deities: From Tenochtitlan to the Provinces” (PhD diss., 2020). Alejandra Aguirre Molina is a Mexican archaeologist and member of the Proyecto Templo Mayor of INAH. She has a master’s degree in archaeology and a PhD in Mesoamerican studies from the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. She has participated in several seasons of the Proyecto Templo Mayor since 2007 as well as other projects, such as Xalla in Teotihuacan, the remodeling of the Mexica room of the Anthropology Museum, and the Frida Kahlo Museum. She specializes in the study of the Mexica religion, focusing on the symbolism of the Mexica offerings and analysis of lithic materials and sacrificial tools. She has published several articles and has presented many papers in various forums in Mexico and at international congresses. Elizabeth Baquedano received her PhD from University College London, Institute of Archaeology, where she is now Senior Lecturer and Coordinator of Comparative Archaeologies of the Americas and Coordinator of Aztec Archaeology and Ethnohistory. She gives regular lectures as well as gallery talks at the British Museum and has curated several exhibi-

tions, including “Aztec Treasures from Mexico” for the state visit of Mexican president Miguel de la Madrid, Museum of Mankind, London, June 1985, and “Henry Moore in Mexico,” an exhibition curated for Henry Moore’s centenary at the University of East Anglia, Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts, Norwich, 1998. She has published four books, including, most recently,Tezcatlipoca: Trickster and Supreme Deity (2014). She has authored several book chapters, including “The Histories of Nations” (2012), and journal articles in Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl. Her honors include the Mexican government’s Ohtli Award (2014), bestowed upon Mexicans who have contributed significantly to enhancing Mexico abroad, particularly the art and archaeology of ancient Mexico. In 2021 she was elected Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London. Elizabeth Hill Boone was the Martha and Donald Robertson Chair in Latin American Art at Tulane University (1995–2021) and formerly Director of Precolumbian Studies at Dumbarton Oaks (1983–1995). She has edited or co-edited eleven books, including The Aztec Templo Mayor (1987), Writing without Words (1994, with Walter Mignolo), Native Traditions in the Postconquest World (1998, with Tom Cummins), and Their Way of Writing: Scripts, Signs, and Pictographies in Pre-Columbian America (2011, with Gary Urton). Among her single-authored books are Stories in Red and Black: Pictorial Histories of the Aztecs and Mixtecs (2000), Cycles of Time and Meaning in the Mexican Books of Fate (2007), and Descendants of Aztec Pictography: The Pictorial Encyclopedias of Sixteenth-Century Mexico (2020). Honors include Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, corresponding member of the Academia Mexicana de la Historia, Mexico’s Order of the Aztec Eagle, and the College Art Association’s Distinguished Scholar for 2019. Allen J. Christenson is Professor of Precolumbian Studies in the Department of Comparative Arts and Letters at Brigham Young University. His MA and PhD degrees are in Maya art history and literature from the University of Texas at Austin. He has worked as an anthropologist, art historian, and linguist among the highland Maya of Guatemala, particularly K’iche’ and Tz’utujil Maya communities, since 1976. His research focuses on early colonial highland Maya texts as well as traditional Maya ceremonies that reflect elements of traditional Maya theology and worldview. His publications include Art and Society in a Highland Maya Community (2001, University of Texas Press); a two-volume critical edition of the Popol Vuh (2003, 2007, University of Oklahoma Press), Bearing the Burden of the Ancients: Maya Ceremonies of World-Renewal (2015, University of Texas Press), and a critical edition in English of The Title of Totonicapán, published in 2022. Israel Elizalde Mendez is an archaeologist from the National School of Anthropology and History, and he obtained a master’s degree in anthropology from UNAM, Mexico City. During the period 2009–2021, he was a researcher for the Templo Mayor Project. His research interests primarily focus on disciplines like zooarchaeol-

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ogy, osteology, paleopathology, and taphonomy, mainly in relation to the management and use of animals in the Mexica culture. In 2018 he received an Alfonso Caso Award honorable mention for his research on animal captivity in Tenochtitlan. Currently, his research is centered on utilizing stable isotopes to identify the diet and origin of the fauna present at the Templo Mayor of Tenochtitlan. Jeanne L. Gillespie exhibits a passion for finding fascinating stories and rendering them into accessible narratives for reflection and further investigation. She has taught courses at all levels of Spanish language and cultures. In addition, she has taught courses on topics in American Indian studies, women’s and gender studies, and interdisciplinary studies. Her book, Saints and Warriors: Tlaxcalan Perspectives on the Conquest of Tenochtitlan (2004), examines the Tlaxcalan perspective on their alliance with the Europeans in the conquest of Tenochtitlan. More recently she has been researching indigenous women’s voices in the Spanish colonial archives. Her preliminary article from that project, “In the Shadow of Coatilcue’s Smile: Reconstructing Female Indigenous Subjectivity in the Spanish Colonial Record,” appeared in Women’s Negotiations and Textual Agency in Latin America, 1500–1799 (2017, edited by Diaz and Quispe-Agnioli). Keith Jordan is professor of art history at California State University, Fresno. He received his PhD from the City University of New York in 2008. His research interests include the art of early Postclassic Tula, Hidalgo; the Mixteca-Puebla style of late Postclassic Mesoamerica, and the Precolumbian art of northwest Mexico. He is the author of the book Stone Trees Transplanted: Central Mexican Stelae of the Epiclassic and Early Postclassic and the Question of Maya “Influence” (Archaeopress, 2014) and the chapter “Flower Mountain in Pre-Columbian Queretaro? The Iconography of a Toltec Monument from El Cerrito” in Visual Culture and Indigenous Agency in the Early Americas, edited by Alessia Frassani (Brill, 2022), as well as articles in Ancient Mesoamerica, Latin American Antiquity, and Latin American and Latinx Visual Culture. Cecelia F. Klein is Professor Emerita in Art History at the University of California, Los Angeles, where, until 2011, she taught and trained graduate students in Pre-Columbian and early colonial art history for thirty-five years. Her research has principally focused on the complex interrelationships among Aztec religion, politics, gender, and art before, during, and following the Spanish conquest, but in recent years she has shifted to Maya art at Chichen Itza and its legacy in Aztec imagery. She has authored The Face of the Earth: Frontality in Two-Dimensional Mesoamerican Art (1976), edited and contributed to Gender in Pre-Columbian America (2001), and written numerous book chapters as well as articles variously published in Ancient Mesoamerica, Art History, The Art Bulletin, Ethnohistory, The Art Journal, Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl, LALVC, Journal of Latin American Lore, and Current Anthropology, among other periodicals.

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Cynthia Kristan-Graham earned a PhD in Pre-Columbian art history from the University of California, Los Angeles. She taught art history at Auburn University and the Atlanta College of Art. She specializes in Mesoamerica, particularly the Epiclassic and early Postclassic periods, landscape and planning, and the poetics of architecture. In addition to writing journal articles and book chapters about Tula and Chichen Itza, she edited Twin Tollans (2007, 2011), Memory Traces: Analyzing Sacred Space at Five Mesoamerican Sites (2015), and Landscapes of the Itza (2017). Her work has been supported by FAMSI, Dumbarton Oaks, and the Getty Foundation. Leonardo López Luján is a Mexican archaeologist and the current director of the Proyecto Templo Mayor of INAH. He holds a doctorate in archaeology from the Université de Paris Nanterre. He specializes in the politics, religion, and art of Pre-Columbian urban societies in central Mexico. Throughout his academic life, he has served as a visiting professor at the Université de Paris Sorbonne, SapienzaUniversità di Roma, École pratique des hautes études, and the Francisco Marroquín University in Guatemala City. He has been a guest researcher at such institutions as Princeton University, Musée du quai Branly, Dumbarton Oaks, and the Institut d’études avancées de Paris. Since 1988 he has been a full-time researcher at INAH. In recent years he was elected member of the Academia Mexicana de la Historia and El Colegio Nacional and correspondent member of the British Academy, the Society of Antiquaries of London, the Real Academia de la Historia, the American Academy of Arts & Sciences, and the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres. Elena Mazzetto is an associate professor at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México. She has received a postdoctoral grant from this institution and two others from the Université Libre in Brussels. She holds a PhD in history from the Università Ca’Foscari di Venezia (Italy) and the Université de Paris I PanthéonSorbonne (France). She is the author of Lieux de culte et parcours cérémoniels dans les fêtes des vingtaines à Mexico-Tenochtitlan (2014), and she is the editor of the volumes Vous n’en mangerez point. L’alimentation comme distinction religieuse (2020) and Mesoamerican Rituals and the Solar Cycle: New Perspectives on the Veintenas Festivals (2021). Susan Milbrath is Curator Emeritus of Latin American Art and Archaeology at the Florida Museum of Natural History, where she curated exhibits that toured nationally to Chicago, San Francisco, Houston, New York, and Philadelphia. The National Endowment for the Humanities awarded her funding for a collections database featuring materials from the site of Cerros (Cerro Maya) in Belize. She taught in the anthropology department at the University of Florida and served on the graduate faculty as an affiliate professor. She is currently an affiliate faculty member of the School of Art and Art History at the University of Florida. Since receiving her PhD from Columbia University in art history and archaeology, she has authored numerous journal articles in Latin Ameri-

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can Antiquity, Ancient Mesoamerica, Journal of Anthropological Research, Archaeology, RES: Journal of Anthropology and Aesthetics, Latin American and Latinx Visual Culture, Estudios de Cultura Maya, and Estudios de Cultura Nahuatl. Her books include First Encounters: Spanish Explorations of the Caribbean and the United States, 1492–1570 (1989, co-edited with Jerald Milanich; reissued in 2017), Star Gods of the Maya: Astronomy in Art, Folklore, and Calendars (1999), Heaven and Earth in Ancient Mexico: Astronomy and Seasonal Cycles in the Codex Borgia (2013), and Cosmology, Calendars, and Horizonbased Astronomy in Ancient Mesoamerica (2015, co-edited with Anne Dowd). Merideth Paxton is affiliated with the University of New Mexico as a research associate at the Latin American and Iberian Institute. Her focus on pre-Hispanic architectural paintings and painted manuscripts began with the research for her dissertation on the provenience and painting date of the Dresden Codex. Her art historical investigations have further involved study of the intellectual histories of Spain and colonial Mexico. She is the author of The Cosmos of the Yucatec Maya: Cycles and Steps from the Madrid Codex (2001). She edited Texto, imagen e identidad en la pintura maya prehispánica (2011, with Manuel Hermann Lejarazu) and Constructing Power and Place in Mesoamerica: Pre-Hispanic Paintings from Three Regions (2017, with Leticia Staines Cicero). She also contributed to both of the latter volumes and has published numerous other chapters and articles. Emily Umberger is Professor Emerita in Art History at the University of Arizona. She received her PhD in art history from Columbia University and has written numerous articles on the history, art, and thought of the Aztecs and on Mexican and Spanish Baroque art. Her multiauthored books include Aztec Imperial Strategies (1996, with Frances F. Berdan et al.) and Ethnic Identity in Nahua Mesoamerica (2008, with Berdan et al.). Among her recent essays are “Conflicting Economic and Sacred Values in Aztec Art” (2017); “Coyolxauhqui at the Brooklyn Museum” (2018, with Casandra Hernández); “Matlatzinco before the Aztecs: José García Payón and the Sculptural Corpus of Calixtlahuaca” (2018); and “A Tale of Two Saints at San Xavier del Bac” (2019). Gabrielle Vail received her PhD in anthropology from Tulane University and has since held research and teaching positions at New College of Florida, the University of South Florida, and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has written extensively about the Postclassic Maya codices and served as PI of the Maya Codices Database Project (mayacodices.org), with funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Classic Maya Text Repository Project, funded by NEH and the Unicode Consortium. She has written or cowritten five books—including The New Catalog of Maya Hieroglyphs, Volume 2: The Codical Texts (2009, with Martha Macri); Códice de Madrid (2013) and Códice de Dresde (2023), published by the Universidad Mesoamericana; and Re-Creating Primordial Time:

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Foundation Rituals and Mythology in the Postclassic Maya Codices (2013, with Christine Hernández)—and co-edited three others: Papers on the Madrid Codex (1997, with Victoria R. Bricker); The Madrid Codex: New Approaches to Understanding an Ancient Maya Manuscript (2004, with Anthony F. Aveni); and Astronomers, Scribes, and Priests: Intellectual Interchange between the Northern Maya Lowlands and Highland Mexico in the Late Postclassic Period (with Christine Hernández, 2010).

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