CHAPTER VII

THE TETZKATLEPOKA

In the broad streets a mass of men and women are surging to and fro.

What festival is being held to-day in Triton's city?

The windows of the palaces are adorned with living flowers, wonderful

zoophytes, which belong partly to the rapacious, locomotive world, and

partly to the world that is rooted to the soil; huge green snakes,

winding up the slender columns and terminating in marvellously beautiful

tulip-like calices; but in the midst of each calix lurks a poisonous

sting, and the leaves, as they shrink together, greedily devour the bird

of paradise that has ventured into the calix while the tail of the

floral beast is rooted in the living earth. The balconies are adorned

with deep-sea vegetation, which the perverse ingenuity of man has

acclimatized to the tropical air. Between the bright ridges of the coral

the interlacing suckers of the tumid polypus grope their way, presenting

an eternally shifting maze of shapes and colours, whilst through the

thick, branching arms of the transparent mollusc the pulsation of its

vital juices is distinctly visible. The flowers of the field no longer

charm the senses of men; the blunted, unreceptive soul can only be

excited by the wondrous, the extraordinary, in Nature.

The main street, from the gate to the Temple of Triton, is covered by a

carpet--a carpet woven entirely out of the locks of young damsels.

Ebony-coloured hair forms the groundwork of the pattern, and the figures

of wreaths, palaces, sacrifices, and all manner of groups are worked

into it with tresses of every shade of colour from the blondest blonde

to the deepest chestnut. No reigning prince of this world has ever

possessed a more costly carpet. Every year the girls cut off their

locks; every year the carpet grows longer and longer, and, although the

city itself increases every year, the carpet keeps pace with it, and

reaches from gate to gate.

Over this gossamer net-work, more precious than gold, the festal host

sweeps like a flowing stream.

More than 20,000 children--boys and girls--lead the way to the gorgeous

temple, singing merry songs, and as they sing they dance with quivering

limbs--a dance which flushes their cheeks with a feverish glow, and

fires their eyes with an ardour which has nothing childish in it. On the

morn of the feast of Triton an intoxicating potion was given to these

children, which has robbed them of all modesty, and, writhing hideously,

they dance and sing in honour of the god.

After them come 20,000 women, their bodies covered with dazzling stuffs

and gorgeous plumage; women with painted cheeks, gilded eyelids and

eyebrows, and with dishevelled tresses rolling down their shoulders in

hundreds of ringlets entwined with gold wire. There is not a spot on

their bodies which reveals God's creating hand. Human madness has

covered, painted, and gilded everything. Only their sparkling eyes show

that they are human; only their languishing glances tell that they are

women.

The women are followed by three hundred and sixty-five old men, the

priests of the god, with lofty, gold-embroidered, peaked caps, and long

trailing mantles, each holding in his hand a staff covered with silver

bells. These grave old men with the high caps and the long robes dance

with insane gestures round a golden car resting on six wheels. Each

wheel bears the image of the sun, and six pillars, surmounted by a

golden drapery, form a sort of baldachin over the car.

In the midst of this lofty State chariot lies a human form, a pale

ghost, a living corpse, whose eyes are as dull and turbid as slimy

sea-water; the skin of whose face is earth-coloured and cleaves to the

bones, whilst his whole bearing speaks of utter weariness, semi-idiocy,

and disgust of life. His limbs are quite motionless; but, if you look

closely, you will see that now and then his lips slightly quiver.

This shape is the Tetzkatlepoka.

The chronicles of the Incas, whom the wise Spaniards, in league with the

redskins, destroyed root and branch, had also something to say about the

festivities of Tetzkatlepoka. Tetzkatlepoka was the name they gave to a

subordinate, annually elected deity, who presided over their ghastly

mysteries. The proudest and comeliest man that could be found was

annually selected and brought into Triton's city. In the midst of the

great market-place, the loveliest maidens of the city surrounded him

with unpainted cheeks, freely flowing tresses, and elfin garments spun

out of glass-thread, and thus they spoke to the elect of the people--

"This year thou art the god Tetzkatlepoka, the lord of all beauty, the

demi-god of bliss, the prince of women. Every flower blooms for thee,

every lip kisses thee. Wilt thou be the god Tetzkatlepoka? Wilt thou

consume away, expire, and vanish in the midst of joy?"

And if the eyes of the elect god kindled at the sight of these

sense-bewitching beauties; if the blood flew seething up into his

temples; if he answered "Yes!" then he was anointed with balsamic

spices, swathed in robes of pearly silk, and carried to the Temple of

Tetzkatlepoka, and there he lived night and day in the sweet delirium of

bliss and intoxication. The maidens of the city with their long flowing

hair visit him one after the other, and when they quit him their locks

are cut off, and from these locks the carpet, which reaches from one end

of the town to the other, is made. This intoxication, this delirium of

joy, lasts a whole year. And on the last day of the year he, together

with the last maiden, whom he himself selects, is offered to the giant

Triton. The living idol consumes them both, and then a new Tetzkatlepoka

is chosen.

Once in ten times, perhaps, the selected man resists the enchanting

spectacle, the most irresistible of all enchantments (or is there

anything more bewitching than a woman's charms?), and answers the

invitation with a "No!"

Then they tear the golden garments from his body, and say to him: "Naked

thou camest into this blissful world, naked shalt thou depart into a

world of woe. Behold yonder those snow-covered mountains. There dwell

those twin voiceless beings: Wilderness and Nothingness. Go thither,

thither where neither man nor beast can thrive for horror and distress.

Live there in cold, wretchedness, and solitude, and if any love thee let

them follow thee." And with that, amidst the scorn and derision of the

daughters of Triton's city, they cast the perverse wretch out of that

gate which leads to the snowy mountains, and curse him that he may never

return again. Generally, however, some one human being is found to

accompany the exile; some one girl, more gentle and modest than the

rest, who would fain hide with her luxuriant tresses the charms which

her gossamer garments so ill-conceal, who, laying her hands on the

shoulders of the vagabond, follows him out of the city of bliss into the

cold and mysterious world beyond. But love alone, love pure and true, is

capable of such acts of renunciation, and such examples of true love

happen here only once in ten years. The derided, mud-bespattered lovers

immediately vanish into the misty, cloud-wrapped regions of the icy

mountains, and no human eye ever gloats over their misery, for no human

eye ever sees them more.

Thus the festival of Triton is celebrated every year, when the roar of

the hungering monster is heard miles away, and the idiot victim of his

own lusts is placed on the golden triumphal car, and led to his doom

amidst music and dancing.

Such is the history of the man who sits there on the golden car.

The procession moves on. After the priests come the maidens of the city,

with chapleted brows and fluttering garments, and in their midst, on a

silver car, the girl devoted to the idol.

After this half-elfin, half-infernal pageant, come the men of the city.

And what men! Bent and crippled shapes with tottering knees, crooked

necks, nerveless arms, quenched eyes, and soulless faces, tottering

along like drunkards; a host of miserable, withered skeletons. If a

manlier, statelier shape appear here and there among the decrepit mob,

it is quite the exception; and the features of all, without exception,

handsome or hideous, bear the brand of a curse upon them, a spasmodic

twitching of the lips, that unmistakable, unconcealable trait which

marks the beast, the demon, and the maniac.

The most incontrovertible token of the degeneracy of a race is when its

women are very fair and its men very hideous. There ruin already lurks

in the background.

And the rear is brought up by an infernal, sense-bewildering throng of

monsters, for which human language has no names. Beasts with human

heads, and human shapes with repulsive bestial heads; a fearful

blasphemy of the sacred order of divine nature; terrifying, mongrel

monsters, half man, half beast; accursed witnesses of the insane

degeneracy of human nature; creatures of whom all antiquity records but

one example--the Minotaur.

In the Fortunate Islands these abortions form a whole tribe, and those

who behold them are no longer shocked or terrified at the sight.

Tales From Jókai · 第 7 / 13 章