The cross on the altar at Palenque is of an entirely different character, and evidently forms the principal part of the emblem representing Quetzalcoatl. How did it come to pass that this exceptional figure of a cross should have been sculptured upon the tablet representing the emblems of the white stranger who, according to the Indian traditions, landed upon their shores, coming from the east in a sacerdotal dress, wearing sandals upon his feet and having red crosses embroidered upon his cape?[113]
It is this coincidence that causes attention to be directed to an endeavour to form some reasonable solution of the problem. It will be observed, upon an examination of the illustration of the tablet of the cross, that the name Quetzalcoatl is represented by the quetzal, the emblematic bird of the Quichés, and by peculiar marks surrounding the cross which are thought to be intended to denote a serpent (coatl) which, as at Uxmal, was probably the Totem of the tribe.[114] But the principal figure placed in the centre of the altar is the cross. This by its shape and position must have been intended to have had an especial significance.
It is related by Gomara that, upon the occasion of the discovery of Yucatan by the expedition under the command of Francisco Hernandez in 1517, the Spaniards observed in the country near Cape Catoche, crosses of brass and wood placed over graves. The unexpected finding of these crosses in an hitherto unknown land attracted the attention of geographers in Spain and, to some extent, led to theories with regard to the possible arrival in Yucatan of the Spanish ecclesiastics who had, according to an ancient legend, fled from Spain when that country was conquered by the Saracens in the eighth century, and were believed to have reached an island in the western parts of the Atlantic ocean called Antilia.
What Gomara wrote upon this subject is as follows:—
“In that place there were found crosses of brass and wood over the dead, from whence some argue that many Spaniards had fled to this land when the destruction of Spain was done by the Moors in the time of the King Don Roderick: but I do not believe it; since there are not any in the islands that we have mentioned: in some one of which it is necessary, and also compulsory to touch at, before arriving there.”
Gomara was undoubtedly correct in not believing that these crosses were placed over the graves of Spaniards who had arrived in Yucatan after the defeat and flight of King Roderick. It is not requisite to go back to events that occurred in Spain in the eighth century to account for the existence of crosses on the promontory of Cape Catoche. When Hernandez landed there in 1517, nearly a quarter of a century had elapsed since Columbus had founded his settlements in Cuba and Hispaniola, and during that interval many small expeditions had been organised by Spanish adventurers for the purpose of exploring the coasts in the direction of Honduras and Nicaragua. In pursuing these voyages of discovery their vessels must have frequently passed at no great distance from the eastern shores of Yucatan where, on their return from the south, they would have been baffled by contrary winds and currents. Under such conditions it is not improbable that one of the vessels may have been wrecked or abandoned off Cape Catoche, and that some of the crew perished and were buried by the survivors near the seacoast.
The Spanish legend to which Gomara refers is, with respect to America, chiefly remarkable for its surprising concurrence in date and other circumstances with the Toltec legend of the arrival of strangers wearing cassocks. It is therefore necessary to ascertain if there are sufficient reasons for placing any confidence in statements that appear to be founded upon tradition, and whether the event that was believed to have taken place could have been possible. The tradition did not escape the attention of Washington Irving. In his “Life of Columbus”[115] he states that “It was recorded in an ancient legend, that at the time of the conquest of Spain and Portugal by the Moors, when the inhabitants fled in every direction to escape from slavery, seven bishops, followed by a great number of their people, took shipping, and abandoned themselves to their fate on the high seas. After tossing about for some time, they landed upon an unknown island in the midst of the ocean. Here the bishops burnt the ships to prevent the desertion of their followers, and founded seven cities.”[116]
In the principal maps published during the fifteenth century, before the discovery of America, the island of Antilia was usually given a position in the middle of the western Atlantic, south of the Azores. In the chart of the geographer Toscanelli, which was sent to Columbus, Antilia was placed in the direct track by sea from the Canary islands to Cipango (Japan), the large and prosperous country supposed at that time to be situated in the extreme west, near the eastern limits of Asia. It is evident that Columbus firmly believed in the existence of Antilia, for when he left the Canaries on his outward voyage, he shaped his course for that island and steered due west for about sixteen hundred miles.
Upon reaching the latitude and longitude where he expected to see land, the admiral conferred with his captains, but as nothing had been observed it was thought that the ships must have passed the island. At sunset, the captain of the Pinta hailed the admiral and reported that land was in sight to the south-west. The course of the ships was accordingly altered towards that direction. On the next day it was found that what had been seen was cloudland. The ships resumed their course and proceeded until the landfall was made upon the island of Guanahani.
The belief in the existence of the legendary island was, however, not then dispelled and it is remarkable, as a proof of the opinions of geographers, that in the important map of the world by Ruysch, published in 1508, in which were placed the latest discoveries in the west; Antilia still retained its position.[117]