As an illustration and a description of this rite are contained in the B.N. MS. and the subject is fully treated in my commentary, I shall but allude here to its salient features. It represented a mortal combat between a prisoner, attached by a short piece of cord to the centre of a large circular stone, and five warriors, who fought him singly. The fifth, who was masked as an ocelot and always obtained victory in the unequal contest, fought with his left hand, being “left-handed,” a peculiarity ascribed to Huitzilopochtli. It was he who subsequently wore the skin of the flayed victim, an action which obviously symbolized a metamorphosis. One point is obvious: this drama exhibits the victor as a warrior who was able to circumscribe the stone freely and was masked as an ocelot—Tezcatlipoca—the Ursa Major, but was endowed, at the same time, with the left-handedness identified with Huitzilopochtli. This mythical personage vanquishes and actually wears the skin of the man attached to the stone; becomes his embodiment, in point of fact, and obtains the supremacy for which he had fought so desperately. In the light shed by the Codex Fuenleal, before cited, it was easy to see that the entire performance dramatized the mythical combat between Tezcatlipoca and Huitzilopochtli for the position of the ruling power, in the heavens—the sun. At the same time it was decidedly puzzling to find celestial supremacy personified by a man, firmly fastened to one spot, the centre of a stone circle. It was impossible not to perceive the identity of thought underlying the representation of this prisoner and the pictures of Tezcatlipoca, the one-footed or lame god—Xonecuilli the Ursa Minor. It was moreover of extreme interest to note the existence of traditional records, preserved in the native myths, of changes in the relative positions of celestial bodies and of the Ursa Major in particular.
Whilst dwelling upon the striking analogy existing between the representations of Tezcatlipoca held fast by the symbol of the North and the prisoner attached to what is described either as “a temalacatl, stone whorl” or “an image of the sun,” my gaze fell on a small model of the calendar-stone of Mexico, hanging above my desk, and rested on the symbol Ollin in its centre. The learned [pg 013] director of the National Museum of Mexico, Señor Troncoso (Anales del Museo Nacional, vol. ii), had expressed his view that this symbol was an actual figurative representation of the annual apparent movements of the sun, and recorded its positions at the solstitial and equinoctial periods. I had, moreover, submitted a drawing of this same figure to the eminent English astronomer, Prof. Norman Lockyer, and he had corroborated this view and established its correctness. On the other hand, I had long noted that the Ollin was usually figured with an eye, the symbol for star, in its centre (fig. [2], nos. 1, 3), and had also paid particular attention to the fact that the Mexicans had conceived the ideas of two suns, a young day sun and an ancient night or black sun. In the B. N. MS., on the mantas worn at their respective festivals, the day sun is depicted in a somewhat fanciful manner, in blue and red on a white field. The black sun is, however, represented in classical style, so to speak, as on the sculptured calendar-stone, with four larger and four smaller V-shaped rays issuing from it. In this connection it is well to recall here that the Mexicans had no specific name for the sun, beyond Tonatiuh, which merely means “that which sheds light” and could equally apply to the stars. In the picture-writings the image of the sun was employed to convey the word Teotl. But we find that this word, assumed to be equivalent to their “Dios” by the Spaniards, was also a reverential title bestowed upon chieftains and superiors and was constantly employed in the composition of words to signify something divine, supremely beautiful, etc. Whilst I was pondering on the possibility that the symbol Ollin might have represented the movements of the luminaries of night as well as the orb of day, my attention became fixed upon the four numerals in each of the ends of the [pg 014] symbol and I was struck by a certain resemblance between their positions and those of the four stars which form the body of the bear in the constellation of Ursa Major. It was then that it occurred to me, as mentioned in the opening sentence of this introduction, to look at the familiar constellations, with a view to verifying the resemblance noted above. As my gaze sought “the pointers” in Ursa Major, and then mechanically turned to Polaris, I thought of some passages I had recently re-read, in Professor Lockyer's Dawn of Astronomy, realizing that his observations, dealing with the latitude 26° (taking Thebes as representing Egypt), could equally apply to Mexico as this country stretches from latitude 15° to 31°.
Figure 2
“The moment primitive man began to observe anything, he must have taken note of the stars, and as soon as he began to talk about them he must have started by defining, in some way or other, the particular star he meant.... Observers would first consider the brightest stars and separate them from the dimmer ones; they would then discuss the stars which never set (the circumpolar constellations) and separate them from those which did rise and set. Then they would naturally, in a northern clime, choose out the constellation of the Great Bear or Orion, and for small groups, the Pleiades (op. cit. p. 132).... A few years' observation would have appeared to demonstrate the absolute changelessness of the places of the rising and setting of the same stars. It is true that this result would have been found to be erroneous when a long period of time had elapsed and when observation became more accurate, but for hundreds of years the stars would certainly appear to represent fixity, while the movements of the sun, moon and planets would seem to be bound by no law ... would appear erratic, so long as the order of their movements was not known.”
The reflection that Ursa Major was probably the first constellation which made any deep impression upon the mind of prehistoric man in America, as elsewhere, lent an additional interest to the star-group, as I concentrated my mind upon its form and endeavored to imagine it in four equidistant positions, corresponding to the numerals in the symbol Ollin of the calendar-stone of Mexico (fig. [2], no. 2).
I succeeded in obtaining, in succession, mental images of the constellation in four opposite positions. This effort led to an unforeseen result which surprised me. In a flash of mental vision I perceived a quadrupled image of the entire constellation, standing [pg 015] out in scintillating brilliancy from the intense darkness of the wintry sky (fig. [3], no. 3). At the same moment I saw that it bore the semblance of a symmetrical swastika of giant proportions. This fact, so unexpectedly realized, gave rise to such an absorbing train of new ideas and interpretations of the data I had accumulated, that I left my window, on that memorable night, with a growing perception of the deep and powerful influence the prolonged observation of Polaris and the circumpolar constellations would naturally have exerted upon the mind of primitive man. Deeply impressed with the striking resemblance between the composite image of Polaris, Ursa Major, and certain forms of the swastika, I started on a fresh line of investigation, and devoted myself to the study of primitive astronomy and its influence upon the intellectual development of mankind in general and the American races in particular. After having worked, during thirteen years, without any preconceived ideas about the ancient Mexican civilization and without formulating any general conclusion concerning it, I saw all the knowledge I had slowly acquired fall into rank and file and organize itself into a simple and harmonious whole.
