Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders/Huitzilopochtli
HUITZILOPOCHTLI
AMONG the many gods of the ancients in Mexico none had higher estimation than Huitzilopochtli, or Vitziliputzli, god of the air and god of war. He was born in the city of Tula after a miraculous conception. His mother, Coatilcue, renowned for the uprightness of her life, was walking in the temple court when a ball of gay feathers fell from the sunlit sky. She caught it in her hand and put it into her bosom, intending to decorate the altar with it, but at the end of her walk it had disappeared, and she discovered, to her astonishment, that she was about to become a mother. She already had many children, who said that she was dishonored, and they planned to kill her; but the unborn god cried to her not to fear, that he would avert the danger and bring renown upon her. And with a war-whoop that rang through the city he leaped into being, full-grown, plumed and painted for battle, a spear and shield in his hands. He fell upon his brothers and slew them for their meditated cruelty, and took the name of Tezahuitl, the Terror. Like Moses, he led his people through the wilderness for many years, to find the best land for their homes. He introduced dress and other comforts, made laws, invented ceremonies, and conferred on his people the gift of fire. Gigantic statues of him were set up in his temple, and to him were offered more sacrifices than to any other of the deities. It was believed in after-years that the devil spoke through his skull—his bones were canonized in Tenochtitlan—and ordered these cruelties. Around his temple in the city of Mexico were rows of trees joined by rods, rank on rank of them. From the feet of the trees nearly to their tops these rods were hung with the heads of prisoners who had been slain on his altars. When they fell to fragments others were put in their places. He himself showed in what way he preferred his sacrifices, for his priests having offended him, he fell upon them in the night, cut them open, pulled their hearts out, and this abominable method prevailed until the arrival of the Spaniards, who did that much of good, at all events: they stopped religious murder, their own murders being merely those of policy and conquest. Images of the war-god were made of dough kneaded by the priests with the blood of children, and to such images the people thronged with offerings, and deemed themselves blessed if they could touch the object, even as others struggle to kiss and touch holy relics in Italy and New York in our own day. In some places an image of this god, made of bread, was broken and eaten by the populace every year, the women alone being forbidden to eat of it. Slaves were bought and fattened for his altars, and it is said that human sacrifice began in his temples, the first one occurring in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Others say that the first sacrifices were made by the Aztecs while they were captives of the Culhuas. They did not dare to attack their masters, but they showed their willingness to shed blood, and revealed a dangerous power by falling upon and slaying four captives, ripping out their hearts and throwing them into the lap of a stone statue of Huitzilopochtli. This frightened the Culhuas, and they let them start on their long migration. While most of the sacrifices were of captives, some were of young men who were solemnly slain, after a month or so of liberty and feasting, that they might bear messages, complaints, compliments, and prayers to the gods. But happiest was the soldier who died in battle defending his country, for he was caught up from the field by the wife of Huitzilopochtli and taken to the sun-house that stood in the eastern heavens amid gardens of fruit and honey-yielding flowers, and wide pastures where game abounded. Every morning when the sun left his home the translated warriors marched before him, flourishing their spears, that seemed like light-rays, and singing their proud songs of battle.