BELLOTE.
Return to Vera Cruz—Toltec Cities—Quotations
regarding Ancient Cities—Rio Tabasco at Frontera—S.
Juan Bautista—Rio Gonzalès—Canoas—Lagoons—Bellote
Islands—_Kjœkkenmœdings_—Temples at Bellote—Chronological and
Ornamental Slabs—Las Dos Bocas—Cortez—Rio Seco—Paraïso.
We are once more at Vera Cruz, _en route_ for Tabasco, where we are
received, as on our first arrival, with the terrible Norte, blowing
so hard that no steamer can get away; and to do something I visit the
Public Library, which, besides some interesting works, contains also
specimens of Totonac antiquities, and a good Indian map on calico.
The wind changes, and we are at last able to go on board the steamer
which is to convey us to the mouth of Rio Tabasco, sometime known as
Grijalva, after the Spanish explorer; and here we leave our large ship
for the river boat. The banks of this river are exceedingly flat and
uninteresting; some king-fishers, some white and blue herons, now and
then a crocodile, are the only things which break the monotony of this
dreary scene.
We stop at a small unhealthy village called Frontera, where we have to
change again for S. Juan. The heat is suffocating; our berths so close
that we try the tops of our cabins, but no sooner are our mosquito
curtains fixed, and ourselves, as we fondly imagine, settled for the
night, than a shower of fiery sparks from the engine, which is fed
with charcoal, sets our clothes on fire and obliges us to make a hasty
retreat, the more so that the ship carries a large cargo of petroleum.
Below, a lively night awaits us, and when from sheer weariness we fall
asleep at last, we are rudely awakened by the cries of all the denizens
of the forest.
A few habitations, a few fields under cultivation, some rare
palm-trees, or a flock of sheep, warn us that we are getting near S.
Juan. But all we can see at present from our steamer is a long line of
low houses, nor is our first impression dispelled when we walk into
this outlying, forlorn-looking town. Outward appearance, however, is
proverbially deceitful; it is particularly so here, for S. Juan is in
reality the great mart of the State, and carries on an extensive trade
in cedar, mahogany, and other fine wood. The population is simple,
obliging, civil, every house open to us; the Governor, a right good
fellow, provides us with letters for the interior, and with men as
guides and servants.
We have, unfortunately, just come in for the rainy season; the roads
are turned into torrents, and so completely broken that we have to give
up going to Comala by land and shall have to go by water. This will
necessitate a very long detour; on the other hand it will give us the
opportunity of visiting the interesting remains to be found at Bellote.
Thus our misfortune will not be very great after all.
This point settled, we are soon ready to start for Tierra Colorada,
a rancho some nine miles from S. Juan, on the banks of Rio Gonzalès,
where we are to find flat-bottomed _canoas_ and _bogas_, “oarsmen.”
These _canoas_ are hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, have no keels,
and are rowed down stream, when the maximum speed is twelve leagues a
day, and three up stream. Close to the landing-place is a wooden booth,
where before going on board we get about the nastiest cup of coffee I
ever tasted, served with pretty grace by a handsome Meztiza. We notice
the cups, made of some fruit-shell shaped on the tree whilst growing,
and I am so pleased with their shape and design that I buy two for my
private collection.
[Illustration: CANOA (BOAT) OF S. JUAN.]
Our _canoas_, which are of average size, do not allow two to sit
abreast; the awning, _toldo_, which is to shelter us both against sun
and rain, is so low that we have to crawl in on all-fours and sit
Turkish fashion. This in a few hours becomes very painful, and our
position is greatly aggravated by mosquitoes. There is not a breath of
wind, so that our progress is but slow, whilst the heat under cover is
intolerable; but whenever I venture out I am forced back either by the
scorching sun or pouring rain, and we must needs comfort ourselves as
best we can with some excellent Tabasco cigars. We lose nothing, for
this region is but an assemblage of savannas and stunted woods, which
lie for months under water.
We soon arrive at _Ceiba_, a rancho, where we land to breakfast under a
wide-spreading tree by the river, depositing under its cool shade our
provisions and our cramped, aching limbs. Here we are detained longer
than we anticipated by our men, who, after refreshing themselves at
the rancho, coolly walked some three miles further on to see their
sweethearts. They hurry in at last looking rather sheepish, and we find
on consulting our map that our next station is twelve miles distant,
and that we shall not reach it till late in the evening. The heat
abates as the dusk gathers in, when we are glad to leave our hateful
_toldo_ to breathe the freshening breeze.
We are now advancing amidst the islands which occupy the mouth of the
river, clad with gigantic mangroves; all around is silent, and the
moon, placid but not cold in these latitudes, sheds her magic light
over the landscape, shaping out fantastic groves, fairy castles, and
long lines of porticoes in the openings of the forest. We are so
delighted with all we see that we are quite surprised, after a run of
sixteen hours, to find ourselves at the rancho of Las Islas, where we
spend what remains of the night, and early the next morning start for
Paraïso.
Up to this time we have been going steadily north, but now our route
bears to the west. We enter the lagoons to be found on this coast,
intersected by narrow canals, and overshadowed by deep, gloomy
paths. The murky water of these canals, the silence of the forest,
recall the Styx, or some forgotten circle of Purgatory in which
the dead wander in endless solitudes. Beautiful large butterflies,
speckled with black and blue, come fluttering by, whilst a multitude
of red hairy crabs glare at us out of some mangrove. Two hours’ steady
rowing brings us to Bellote Islands, when, stowing our boats on the
sand, we hail the first man we see, and under his escort make for the
_cuyos_, pyramids, walking by the shore of the island, the water of
which is so transparent as to enable us to spy at the bottom of the
lagoon a quantity of oyster-shells; presently we come upon a gigantic
bank of them measuring several miles, by more than twelve feet high,
_kjœkkenmœdings_; the whole ground around is composed of these broken
shells, over which a magnificent vegetation luxuriates.
[Illustration: RANCHO AT BELLOTE.]
The pyramids, which are the object of our visit, are three in number,
from 195 to 325 feet at the base, by 37 to 43 in height. The temples
which once stood on the summit are but a mass of ruins. Thanks to
excavations made by the owner of the rancho, one side of one of the
pyramids has been cleared of the vegetation and now a good view can
be obtained, enabling us to perceive that it is identical in all
respects with those at Tula and Teotihuacan, save that this is much
smaller, the baby pattern, so to speak, of those we have hitherto
visited. On the terrace crowning the pyramid a fragment of wall on an
incline is still standing, covered with hard cement. This facing was
composed of four layers of lime and mortar, each coating representing
figures and characters in bas-reliefs, modelled in the lime coating.
On removing one of these the next was discovered, almost invariably at
the cost of nearly the whole bas-relief. We were fortunate in taking
away intact the fragment shown in our plate, a head with retreating
forehead resting on the instep of a foot which lies on a cushion.
The notable feature of this profile is its similarity with those on
the bassi-rilievi at Palenque, proving in my opinion the unity of
civilisation of the two countries, save that priority of date must be
awarded to Bellote. Besides these reliefs we found a vast quantity of
broken arms, hands, ex-votos, pottery, etc.
It should be mentioned that these pyramids, unlike those at
Teotihuacan, were built with shells and mud, and that baked bricks were
only employed in the partition walls and those of the temples. That
such materials should have been used was natural in a region where even
gravel is unknown.
In speaking of the Toltec chronology, it was observed that on the new
fire being rekindled, all house furniture was renewed, every dwelling
and every temple repainted. Is it beyond the bounds of possibility
to imagine that this custom received here its highest development,
that the walls of the temples were covered with hieroglyphic coatings
commemorating the age which had just elapsed, and that each succeeding
century received a layer similarly inscribed? Were this presumption
substantiated, a starting-point would be obtained, enabling us to state
that at the Conquest in 1520, this monument was four Indian centuries,
or 208 years old, plus the fraction of the century just begun. I am
well aware that this hypothesis is not borne out by scientific facts,
and that I cannot even claim the honour of being the first in starting
it, for I was forestalled by Stephens, who says: “In the remotest
corridor of the palace, the wall was coated with lime, and broken in
various places; I counted as many as six coatings, every one of which
bore traces of paintings. In a corner were characters which looked as
though they had been written with black ink. In our efforts to reach
this, the whole thing came down and obliged us to desist.”[83]
[Illustration: TEMPLE BAS-RELIEF, BELLOTE.]
Granting our theory, the six layers at Palenque would be equivalent
to 312 years, plus the fraction of the current century, which might
bring it to 330 years at the Conquest, and about 690 years old up to
the present time, an antiquity which may be reasonably accorded to
Palenque, as the sequel will show.
As may have been noticed, these monuments are identical with those
observed by the early Spaniards, and so often described by their
historians; and if it is borne in mind that when the Toltecs were
driven from the high plateaux they migrated south, and were found as
early as 1124 established at Goatzacoalco, Tabasco, and Yucatan, by the
envoys of Xolotl, the conclusion that the monuments under notice belong
to this tribe must force itself upon every unbiassed mind.
We leave Bellote _en route_ for Paraïso, following the course of Tomo,
Largo, and calling at Ceiba, a small hamlet standing amidst a glorious
landscape. Here once rose Cintla, a dependency of Tabasco, and this
is the river which Grijalva discovered, which Cortez navigated, and
on the banks of which he fought his great battle, against 40,000 or
50,000 Indians. Many are the proofs which can be brought to confirm our
opinion: this river has but one mouth, and therefore can at no time
have borne the name of _Las Dos Bocas_; we read that Cortez was obliged
to use launches on account of its shallow waters, whereas vessels of
great tonnage, drawing twelve feet of water, ply daily on it; the
tide, moreover, advances farther in at Frontera than is reported by
Diaz.[84] Herrera says that Cortez, whilst in this region, took up his
position on an islet opposite the village: now there is but one very
large island, and that nearly a mile below Frontera; that his soldiers
crossed the river to reconnoitre, but the stream is so wide and so deep
at that point, as to preclude the possibility of any fording-place;
that the general traversed immense cocoa-plantations, yet none are to
be seen about Frontera, whereas on Rio Seco, over which we float at
this present moment, it is the principal cultivation. Herrera’s account
consequently is applicable in every respect to Rio Seco, with its two
mouths, its impassable bar, and its fording-places; here was fought the
great battle, not far rose the Indian capital, the name of which has
not come down to us, but which is known as Comalcalco at the present
day; and we are of opinion that Ceiba, or Zeiba, is the village where
Cortez, in the name of the king, took possession of the country.[85]
Cogolludo, in speaking of the first skirmishes of the Spaniards against
the cacique of Tabasco, says: “They numbered over 12,000 entrenched
behind some breastworks, but we made a sudden rush, forced them out
of their defences, obliging them to fall back; this they did like
good soldiers without turning their backs, raining showers of arrows
on us, until they reached the outward buildings of some temples, from
which they took all they could carry. The enemy being now in full
retreat, Cortez stopped all further pursuit, and here, in the name of
His Majesty, he took possession of the country, drawing his sword and
making three large cuts at a huge tree, which is called _Ceiba_ by the
natives, and which grew on the terrace of the temple, exclaiming that
should any one question his right, he was ready to make it good with
his sword and shield.”[86]
It may be objected that this quotation proves nothing at all, that
ceibas grow everywhere, and that the taking of possession could be
easily effected on any spot of the Mexican soil. Just so; yet a
remarkable coincidence is this, that no ceibas grow about the village
of that name, that the one cut by Cortez, owing to the rapid growth of
such trees, must long since have disappeared, and that on my inquiring
for “Ceiba” at the village supposed to be it, no one seemed to know.
It is a well-ascertained fact that an appellation given in honour of
a great event to a certain spot lives on when the object which gave
rise to it has perished. Is it so unreasonable to suppose that the
Spaniards who settled later at Ceiba, a spot consecrated by the taking
of possession, on identifying Cortez’ tree, should name the village
they erected after it? If I make a running comment on history, if I
discover points of analogy at every step, I do so whilst visiting
carefully the very places under notice, bearing in mind historical
accounts. These details are of vital importance in affirming the
existence of Comalcalco at the time of the Conquest, as also that Rio
Seco was then a large river whose course was turned by the Spaniards to
ruin the Indian city, which rose on its banks.
Of the beauty of the country between Ceiba and Paraïso no words of
expression, no painter’s brush could give an adequate idea: noble
avenues of cocoa and palm-trees open out at almost every stroke of
the oar; lovely plants of tender green, with light yellow clustering
flowers, float down the rapid stream, forming fairy-like rafts which
remind us of the Mexican chinampas. My admiration for this lovely scene
around me, finds no echo among my travelling companions, who are either
sleeping or differently engrossed. The longer I observe the high banks,
the bed both wide and deep of this stream, now reduced to a torrent,
the more firmly am I convinced that it was at some time a great river,
whose course whether nature or man have altered within a comparatively
recent period, and tradition here becomes historical truth.
We reach Paraïso at last; the name had prepared us for something better
than the wretched hamlet where we land. It was destroyed, it seems,
in a local affray, as the ruins, the fallen trunks of large trees
sufficiently attest. Outward appearance is no sure index to gauge
Paraïso or its “descalzado” inhabitants, who are in reality well-to-do.
The good man who kindly offered to escort us about, is, for this
country, quite wealthy; nor is he a solitary instance of friendliness,
it seems to pervade the whole community. The place has no hotel or inn
of any kind, but a house is easily got to serve our purpose, as much
food as we want is forced upon us by these good-natured people; and if
it is not quite English hospitality, it is very near it. The Paraïsians
are perfectly satisfied with their condition in life; their wishes are
few, and such as the fertility of the soil will easily meet; want is
unknown, life easy, the climate admits of but the scantiest clothing,
and if they have more than their share of rain, they are troubled with
fewer mosquitoes than most of their neighbours. In fact, these charming
people are fully convinced that all is for the best in this best of
worlds, and that if Paraïso is not heaven itself, it is not far from it.
[Illustration: TERRA-COTTA MASK, FOUND AT BELLOTE.]
[Illustration: VIRGIN FOREST NEAR COMALCALCO.]