Queen Moo's Talisman: The Fall of the Maya Empire

by Alice D. Le Plongeon

In connection with the song to the rain-gods it may be said that although the natives of Yucatan are to-day Catholic in name, they really prefer to render homage to some statue of their forefathers, and cling tenaciously to a few of their old divinities. Among these may be mentioned Balam (tiger), guardian of the crops, likewise appealed to as a rain-god. In a subterranean cavern a few miles from Chicħen, there is an old image of a man with long beard; this serves as a representation of Balam, and to it offerings are made. The antiquity of the carving cannot be doubted, similar ones existing on pillars at the entrance of a very ancient castle at Chicħen. The figure in the cavern is on its knees, its hands are raised to a level with its head, palms upturned. On its back is a bag containing what the natives say is a cake made of corn and beans. The statue is now black, owing to the incense and candles with which its devotees frequently smoke it. Previous to the planting of grain, they place before it a basin of cool beverage made of corn, also lighted wax candles and sweet-smelling copal, imploring the god to grant an abundant harvest. When the crops ripen, the finest ears are carried to the grimy divinity by men, women, and children, who within the cavern dance and pray all day long, some of their quaint instruments serving as accompaniment to the Latin litanies which they chant, without having even the vaguest idea of their meaning.

The sun-dance mentioned in the Preface, is occasionally performed by Indians in Yucatan at the time of the vernal equinox. Twenty men take part—corresponding to the number of days in the ancient Maya month—but ten dress as women, whence it may be inferred that in olden times the dancers were of both sexes. All their faces are covered with masks of deer-skin, and each has on his head the inverted half-shell of a calabash, with turkey feathers standing up through a hole in the centre. They wear their usual spotless white garments, and sandals. Those clad as women are ornamented with large bead necklaces, principally red, in imitation of old Maya coin, and all the dancers have ear-rings. The hostile Indians[^[1]] still pierce their ears as their ancestors did; the rank of a chief being indicated by his having a ring in the left ear only, or in the right, or in both.

The Master of the dance wears a stiff circular cap, surrounded by upright peacock feathers that sway with every movement, towering above all the dancers, and about his shoulders is a string of big sea-shells. From his neck hangs a metallic representation of the sun, in whose centre is an all-seeing eye within a triangle, from which depends a large tongue, symbol of power and wisdom.

One man carries a white flag on which is painted an image of the sun, and a man and woman on their knees worshiping it. Three men, apart from the dancers, play a clarionet, a sacatan, and a big turtle-shell beaten with deer-horns. The Master marks time with a rattle, and in his other hand has a three-thonged whip like the flagellum of Osiris in Egypt; throughout the performance he remains standing close to the flag-staff.

Each dancer holds in his left hand a fan of turkey feathers whose handle is a claw of that bird; and in his right a small rattle made of a calabash shell, fancifully painted, containing pebbles and dried seeds. These rattles remind us of the sistrums used anciently in the temples of Egypt.

Around the pole on which the flag is furled, the dancers walk three times, with solemn tread, groping their way as if in darkness. Suddenly the flag is unfurled, the sun appears, all draw themselves up to their full height, raise their eyes and hands, and utter a unanimous shout of joy.

Now the dance commences, round and round the pole they go with various steps and motions, not graceful, but energetic and full of meaning. The dance is intended to represent, among other things, the course and movement of our planet around the sun. The chief and the dancers sing alternately:

“Take care how you step!”

“We step well, O Master!”

The melody and strange accompaniment are impressive and stirring, the rattles being particularly effective, now imitating the scattering of grain, then by a brisk motion of every arm sending forth a sound like a sudden rainfall on parched leaves, or a thunder clap in the distance, uniting with a shout raised by the dancers at the conclusion of each chorus. The fans, kept in motion, are emblematic of refreshing breezes.