THE PYRAMID OF CHOLULA.
“Nations melt
From Power’s high pinnacle, when they have felt
The sunlight for a while and downward go.”
Eight miles from Puebla in the midst of the vale of Atoyac stands the
sphinx of Cholula, a pyramid covering forty-four acres of ground, whose
base is one thousand four hundred and twenty-three feet and whose
altitude is one hundred and seventy-seven feet, with a truncated apex
two hundred feet square. This was once crowned by a temple, but now by a
church called Nuestro Señora de los Remedios. The City of Cholula was
the sacred city of the Aztecs, but the pyramid antedates their
tradition. When it was built, by whom and for what purpose will not be
known till the sea yields up its dead, but there it stands built of
brick, twice larger than Cheops, and so overgrown with trees that it
looks like a natural hill. A winding road with steps leads to the top,
whence a view of the whole valley is to be had.
With his usual exaggeration, Cortez said that from its summit four
hundred heathen temples could be seen. At present the town of Cholula
contains about six thousand inhabitants, and I counted only fifty-four
church steeples seen from its summit, of course omitting those visible
in Puebla. Naturally Cholula has its legends, and what ancient edifice
has not? The Aztecs knew nothing of the history of the pyramid.
According to Toltecan tradition, it was built by the followers of
Quetzacoatl. Among all nations of Anahuac, the god of air was
Quetzacoatl, “Feather-decked-serpent,” the great, good and fair god. He
had been a high priest in old Tollan, and according to all the statues
representing him, was bearded and had a white skin. He was a god of
peace and discouraged war and animal sacrifice, and introduced the
culture of maize and cotton and the smelting of metals and the working
of stone. When he wished to promulgate a law, he sent a hero whose word
could be heard a hundred leagues away to proclaim it from the summit of
Tzatzitepetl, “The mountain of clamors.” Under his tutelary care, maize
grew to such a size that a single ear was all a man could carry, and
cotton grew with all the colors already in it. In a word, the Aztecs
believed that the reign of Quetzacoatl was the golden age of the
country.
Tezcatlipoca (shining mirror) was the principal god next to Teotl,
having descended to earth by means of a spider’s web. He fought with the
high-priest Quetzacoatl, and then told him it was the will of the gods
that he journey to the ancient kingdom of Tlapallan. Quetzacoatl was
escorted out by a number of people singing hymns, and finally reached
Tolula. His gentle manners and integrity won the hearts of the
Cholulans, so he dwelt with them and taught them the arts of
civilization, the smelting of metals, the weaving of cloth and the
making of delicate pottery. After a sojourn of twenty years at Cholula,
Quetzacoatl decided to continue his journey to Tlapallan and departed
toward the sea, saying he would return. Gradually the report spread that
he was dead; he was then proclaimed a god by the Toltecs of Cholula, and
was afterwards proclaimed protector of the city, in the center of which
they reared the pyramid to his honor and crowned the top with a temple.
In this temple was an image of the “god of the air,” wearing a mitre on
his head waving with plumes of fire, and around his neck a resplendent
collar of gold, in his ears pendants of mosaic turquoise, in one hand a
jeweled sceptre, and in the other a shield, curiously painted, the
emblem of his rule over the winds. The sanctity of the place and the
magnificence of the temple spread, until the worship of Quetzacoatl was
shared by all the nations of Anahuac, and Cholula became a Mecca, the
Holy City of the Valley.
Quetzacoatl created a new religion based on fasting, penitence and
virtue, and he belonged to another race than the one he civilized, but
what was his country? In all the Aztec writings and on all his statues
he is called “the fair god,” and when Cortez landed in Mexico, Montezuma
refused to make war upon him, saying, “It is the return of Quetzacoatl.”
The Cholulans forgot the art of war in the pursuit of the arts of peace
as taught by Quetzacoatl, and Cholula became the great emporium of the
plateau. Cholula became a dependency of the Aztecs, and this gave
offence to the Tlaxcalans, the bold Swiss mountaineers of Anahuac, who
were the enemies of the Aztecs. So when Cortez arrived and conquered
the Tlaxcalans, they were only too willing to join him against the
Cholulans. It was in 1519 that Cortez selected six thousand Tlaxcalans
and a large number of Cempoallans and marched against the city of
Cholula. Cortez had been invited by the ruler to visit the city and was
the guest of the nobility, but here is shown one of the blackest spots
in his entirely perfidious character. Cortez left the main part of his
army outside the city with instructions to rush in when the signal gun
should be fired, and to weave sedges around their heads so as to be
distinguished from the Cholulans in the slaughter. The next morning he
had his men to conceal their arms and assemble around the great square.
He then sent word to the princes and all persons of distinction in the
city that he desired a conference with them in the square, and they came
to do honor to their invited guest, followed by the thousands, curious
to look upon the strange horses and fair-skinned strangers. Then Cortez,
to make a pretext for his deed, accused the chiefs of plotting treachery
against him, and at the signal, his army closed in the three sides of
the square and began the slaughter of the unarmed inhabitants. All the
accumulated hatred of the Indian allies was let loose in this hour of
vengeance. All within the square were slaughtered, including all the
persons of distinction of the republic, and then the butchers with fire
and sword spread through the streets of the city, and to the summit of
the pyramid.
The statue of Quetzacoatl was thrown down and robbed of its treasures.
The temple was fired, and in the blaze of its destruction the savages,
both Spanish and Indians loaded themselves with booty from the thrifty
Cholulans, and with his sword in one hand and the crucifix in the other,
the missionary bandit, Cortez, offered the remaining inhabitants a
respite if they would accept baptism and acknowledge the King of Spain
as their sovereign! Under the guise of friendship, and while accepting
the hospitality of his host, this Christian savage stooped to a perfidy
which the natives scorned.
This sacred city whose court magnificence rivaled the pomp of
Montezuma’s capital became a Golgotha. Upon the top of the pyramid where
was the temple, stands a catholic church, and in front an ancient cross
which the priest told me was almost as old as the Conquest. At the
northeast of the plaza where the massacre occurred stands the Church of
Seven Naves, which was built by the special order of Cortez from models
of the Cathedral Mosque of Cordova in Spain. The chapel has sixty-four
supporting columns, and the small mullioned windows and Moorish frescoes
give it a repose of perfect harmony with its peaceful environments. I
sat in the plaza that had once flowed in blood. It was July 18, and the
populace was celebrating the anniversary of the death of the patriot
Juarez, and as the glare of fire-works cast unnatural shadows among the
stately trees, I was reminded that Cholula once furnished the toys and
fire-works for the whole valley. This industrious people was called in
derision “the race of traders;” and even as I sat, the keen-eyed boys
detected the presence of strangers and scented a trade in “antiquias.”
After throwing a few stones at a tree, they leisurely drifted by me,
and finally returned, and mysteriously drew from their pockets curious
toys and fragments of pottery in a pattern different from any now made,
and declared them to be “antiquias viejas de Cholula.” These people are
up to date and can make you a relic to order if they only know what you
want, and will date it back as far as you wish; but these were the
simon-pure article of Cholula as she was in her halcyon days.
Near Cholula are smaller pyramids very similar to those of the Mound
Builders of the Mississippi Valley. Stretching across the fertile valley
the shadows point to Popocatapetl, only six leagues away, but the
diaphanous atmosphere would make you believe it only one. The ancient
capital is now a compact village of six thousand people, as silent and
bereft of enterprise as though it dwelt under the spell of the Enchanted
City in the Arabian Nights. The young men were discussing the
independence of “Cuba Libre;” the women were at church, and the Indian
women from the hills with their babies strapped to their backs and their
bare feet upon the pavement, glided more like phantoms of a vanished
race than realities of the present. Though 380 years have passed since
that awful remembrance, its every aspect seems to accent its
Bartholomew’s day. The silence is oppressive, so we climb the pyramid to
view the valley, and such a view! To the north six leagues is Tlaxcala;
to the south and reaching the horizon an endless valley; to the east,
Puebla and the gateway to the gulf; and to the west the two snow-capped
volcanoes, and within these boundaries a garden spot that equals the
valley of Mexico.
Throughout this broad expanse are hamlets and orchards and pastures and
fields of evergreen maguey and cochineal, cactus and tropical fruits.
The scene is like a picture or the mirage of some unseen habitation. The
animals and men in the distance creep like insects in a pantomime. Not a
column of smoke to denote the presence of a factory nor the revolution
of a single wheel of commerce. A blast of a tin horn from the horse-car
tells us this is the last car to Puebla tonight, and we leave the
beautiful sunset glistening from the snow-clad peak of Popocatapetl, and
leave the unsolved riddle of the pyramid to the ages.
[Illustration]