I have had opportunity to discover that their faith in reincarnation, as many other time-honored credences, still exists among them, unshaken, notwithstanding the persecutions and tortures suffered by them at the hands of ignorant and barbaric Christians (?)
I will give two instances when that belief in reincarnation was plainly manifested.
The day that, after surmounting many difficulties, when my ropes and cables, made of withes and the bark of the habin tree, were finished and adjusted to the capstan manufactured of hollow stones and trunks of trees; and I had placed the ponderous statue of Chaacmol on rollers, already in position to drag it up the inclined plane made from the surface of the ground to a few feet above the bottom of the excavation; my men, actuated by their superstitious fears on the one hand, and their profound reverence for the memory of their ancestors on the other, unwilling to see the effigy of one of the great men removed from where their ancestors had placed it in ages gone by resolved to bury it, by letting loose the hill of dry stones that formed the body of the mausoleum, and were kept from falling in the hole by a framework of thin trunks of trees tied with withes, and in order that it should not be injured, to capsize it, placing the face downward. They had already overturned it, when I interfered in time to prevent more mischief, and even save some of them from certain death; since by cutting loose the withes that keep the framework together, the sides of the excavation were bound to fall in, and crush those at the bottom. I honestly think, knowing their superstitious feelings and propensities, that they had made up their mind to sacrifice their lives, in order to avoid what they considered a desecration of the future tenement that the great warrior and king was yet to inhabit, when time had arrived. In order to overcome their scruples, and also to prove if my suspicions were correct, that, as their forefathers and the Egyptians of old, they still believed in reincarnation, I caused them to accompany me to the summit of the great pyramid. There is a monument, that served as a castle when the city of the holy men, the Itzaes, was at the height of its splendor. Every anta, every pillar and column of this edifice is sculptured with portraits of warriors and noblemen. Among these many with long beards, whose types recall vividly to the mind the features of the Afghans.
On one of the antæ, at the entrance on the north side, is the portrait of a warrior wearing a long, straight, pointed beard. The face, like that of all the personages represented in the bas-reliefs, is in profile. I placed my head against the stone so as to present the same position of my face as that of Uxan, and called the attention of my Indians to the similarity of his and my own features. They followed every lineament of the faces with their fingers to the very point of the beard, and soon uttered an exclamation of astonishment: “Thou! here!” and slowly scanned again the features sculptured on the stone and my own.
“So, so,” they said, “thou too art one of our great men, who has been disenchanted. Thou, too, wert a companion of the great Lord Chaacmol. That is why thou didst know where he was hidden; and thou hast come to disenchant him also. His time to live again on earth has then arrived.”
From that moment every word of mine was implicitly obeyed. They returned to the excavation, and worked with such a good will, that they soon brought up the ponderous statue to the surface.
A few days later some strange people made their appearance suddenly and noiselessly in our midst. They emerged from the thicket one by one. Colonel Don Felipe Diaz, then commander of the troops covering the eastern frontier, had sent me, a couple of days previous, a written notice, that I still preserve in my power, that tracks of hostile Indians had been discovered by his scouts, advising me to keep a sharp look out, lest they should surprise us. Now, to be on the look out in the midst of a thick, well-nigh impenetrable forest, is a rather difficult thing to do, particularly with only a few men, and where there is no road; yet all being a road for the enemy. Warning my men that danger was near, and to keep their loaded rifles at hand, we continued our work as usual, leaving the rest to destiny.
On seeing the strangers, my men rushed on their weapons, but noticing that the visitors had no guns, but only their machetes, I gave orders not to hurt them. At their head was a very old man: his hair was gray, his eyes blue with age. He would not come near the statue, but stood at a distance as if awe-struck, hat in hand, looking at it. After a long time he broke out, speaking to his own people: “This, boys, is one of the great men we speak to you about.” Then the young men came forward, with great respect kneeled at the feet of the statue, and pressed their lips against them.
Putting aside my own weapons, being consequently unarmed, I went to the old man, and asked him to accompany me up to the castle, offering my arm to ascend the 100 steep and crumbling stairs. I again placed my face near that of my stone Sosis, and again the same scene was enacted as with my own men, with this difference, that the strangers fell on their knees before me, and, in turn, kissed my hand. The old man after a while, eyeing me respectfully, but steadily, asked me: “Rememberest thou what happened to thee whilst thou wert enchanted?” It was quite a difficult question to answer, and yet retain my superior position, for I did not know how many people might be hidden in the thicket. “Well, father,” I asked him, “dreamest thou sometimes?” He nodded his head in an affirmative manner. “And when thou awakest, dost thou remember distinctly thy dreams?” “Má,” no! was the answer. “Well, father,” I continued, “so it happened with me. I do not remember what took place during the time I was enchanted.” This answer seemed to satisfy him. I again gave him my hand to help him down the precipitous stairs, at the foot of which we separated, wishing them God-speed, and warning them not to go too near the villages on their way back to their homes, as people were aware of their presence in the country. Whence they came, I ignore; where they went, I don’t know.
Circumcision was a rite in usage among the Egyptians since very remote times. The Mayas also practiced it, if we are to credit Fray Luis de Urreta; yet Cogolludo affirms that in his days the Indians denied observing such custom. The outward sign of utmost reverence seems to have been identical amongst both the Mayas and the Egyptians. It consisted in throwing the left arm across the chest, resting the left hand on the right shoulder; or the right arm across the chest, the right hand resting on the left shoulder. Sir Gardner Wilkinson, in his work above quoted, reproduces various figures in that attitude; and Mr. Champollion Figeac, in his book on Egypt, tells us that in some cases even the mummies of certain eminent men were placed in their coffins with the arms in that position. That this same mark of respect was in use amongst the Mayas there can be no possible doubt. We see it in the figures represented in the act of worshiping the mastodon’s head, on the west façade of the monument that forms the north wing of the palace and museum at Chichen-Itza. We see it repeatedly in the mural paintings in Chaacmol’s funeral chamber; on the slabs sculptured with the representation of a dying warrior, that adorned the mausoleum of that chieftain. Cogolludo mentions it in his history of Yucatan, as being common among the aborigines: and my own men have used it to show their utmost respect to persons or objects they consider worthy of their veneration. Among my collection of photographs are several plates in which some of the men have assumed that position of the arms spontaneously.