K. Dickson
Comparative
Mythology: Aztec/Nahuat
The Creation of Sun
and Moon, from Florentine
Codex Bk. 7
(tr. Anderson & Dibble)
Behold the fable in which it is told
how a little rabbit lay across the
face of the moon. Of this, it is told that the gods were only at play
with the moon. They struck his face with the rabbit; they wounded his
face with it—they maimed it. The gods thus dimmed his face. Thereafter
the moon came to arise and come forth.
It is told that when yet all was in
darkness, when yet no sun had shone
and no dawn had broken—it is said—the gods gathered themselves
together and took counsel among themselves there at Teotihuacan. They
spoke; they said among themselves:
"Come hither, O gods! Who will carry
the burden? Who will take it upon
himself to be the sun, to bring the dawn?"
And upon this, one of them who was
there spoke: Tecuciztecatl
presented himself. He said: "O gods, I shall be the one."
And again the gods spoke: "And who
else?"
Thereupon they looked around at one
another. They pondered the matter.
They said to one another: "How may this be? How may we decide?"
None dared; no one else came forward.
Everyone was afraid; they all
drew back.
And not present was one man, Nanauatzin; he stood there listening among
the others to that which was discussed. Then the gods called to this
one. They said to him: "Thou shalt be the one, O Nanauatzin."
He then eagerly accepted the decision;
he took it gladly. He said: "It
is well, O gods; you have been good to me."
Then they began now to do penance.
They fasted four days—both
Tecuciztecatl and Nanauatzin. And then, also, at this time, the fire
was laid. Now it burned, there in the hearth. They named the hearth
teotexcalli.
And this Tecuciztecatl: that with
which he did penance was all costly.
His fir branches were quetzal feathers, and his grass balls were of
gold; his maguey spines were of green stone; the reddened, bloodied
spines were of coral. And his incense was very good incense.
And as for Nanauatzin, his fir
branches were made only of green water
rushes—green reeds bound in threes, all making, together, nine bundles.
And his grass balls were only dried pine needles. And his maguey spines
were these same maguey spines. And the blood with
which they were covered was his own
blood. And for his incense, he used
only the scabs from his sores, which he lifted up. For these two, for
each one singly, a hill was made. There they remained, performing
penances for four nights. They are now called pyramids —the Pyramid of
the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon.
And when they ended their four nights
of penitence, then they went to
throw down and cast away, each one, their fir branches, and, indeed,
all with which they had been performing penances. This was done at the
time of the lifting of the penance; when, well into the night, they
were to do their labor; they were to become gods.
And when midnight had come, thereupon
the gods gave them their
adornment; they arrayed them and readied them. To Tecuciztecatl they
gave his round, forked heron feather headdress and his sleeveless
jacket. But as for Nanauatzin, they bound on his headdress of mere
paper and tied on his hair, called his paper hair. And they gave him
his paper stole and his paper breech clout. And when this was done,
when midnight had come, all the gods proceeded to encircle the hearth,
which was called teotexcalli,
where for four days had burned the fire. On both sides the gods
arranged themselves in line, and in the middle they set up, standing,
these two, named Tecuciztecatl and Nanauatzin. They stood facing and
looking toward the hearth.
And thereupon the gods spoke: They
said to Tecuciztecatl: "Take
courage, O Tecuciztecatl; fall—cast thyself—into the fire!"
Upon this, he went forward to cast
himself into the flames. And when
the heat came to reach him, it was insufferable, intolerable, and
unbearable; for the hearth had blazed up exceedingly, a great heap of
coals burned, and the flames flared up high. Thus he came terrified,
stopped in fear, turned about, and went back. Then once more he set
out, in order to try to do it. He exerted himself to the full, that he
might cast and give himself to the flames. And he could in no way dare
to do it. When again the heat reached him, he could only turn and leap
back. He could not bear it. Four times indeed—four times in all—he was
thus to act and try; then he could cast himself no more. For then he
might try only four times.
And when he had ended, trying four
times, thereupon they cried out to
Nanauatzin. The gods said to him: "Onward, thou, O Nanauatzin! Take
heart!"
And Nanauatzin, daring all at once,
determined—resolved—hardened his
heart, and shut firmly his eyes. He had no fear; he did not stop short;
he did not falter in fright; he did not turn back. All at once he
quickly threw and cast himself into the fire; once and for all he went.
Thereupon he burned; his body crackled and sizzled.
And when Tecuciztecatl saw that
already he burned, then, afterwards, he
cast himself upon the fire. Thereupon he also burned.
And thus do they say: It is told that
then flew up an eagle, which
followed them. It threw itself suddenly into the flames; it cast itself
into them, while still it blazed up. Therefore its feathers are
scorched looking and blackened. And afterwards followed an ocelot, when
now the fire no longer burned high, and he came to fall in. Thus he was
only blackened—smutted—in various places, and singed by the fire. For
it was not now burning hot. Therefore he was only spotted, dotted with
black spots, as if splashed with black. From this event, it is said,
they took—from here was taken—the custom whereby was called and named
one who was valiant, a warrior. He was given the name quauhtlocelotl. The word quauhtli came first, it is told,
because, as was said, the eagle first entered the fire. And the ocelot
followed thereafter. Thus is it said in one word—quauhtlocelotl; because the latter
fell into the fire after the eagle.
And after this, when both had cast
themselves into the flames, when
they had already burned, then the gods sat waiting to see where
Nanauatzin would come to rise—he who first fell into the fire—in order
that he might shine as the sun; in order that dawn might break. When
the gods had sat and been waiting for a long time, thereupon began the
reddening of the dawn in all directions, all around, the dawn and light
extended. And so, they say, thereupon the gods fell upon their knees in
order to await where he who had become the sun would come to rise. In
all directions they looked; everywhere they peered and kept turning
about. As to no place were they agreed in their opinions and thoughts.
Uncertain were those whom they asked. Some thought that it would be
from the north that the sun would come to rise, and placed themselves
to look there; some did so to the west; some placed themselves to look
south. They expected that he might rise in all directions, because the
light was everywhere.
And some placed themselves so that
they could watch there to the east.
They said: "For there, in that place, the sun already will come to
arise." True indeed were the words of those who looked there and
pointed with their fingers in that direction. Thus they say, that those
who looked there to the east were Quetzalcoatl; the name of the second
was Ecatl; and Totec, or Anauatl itecu; and the red Tezcatlipoca. Also
there were those who were called the Mimixcoa, who were without number;
and four women—Tlacapan, Teicu, Tlacoyehua, and Xocoyotl.
And when the sun came to rise, when he
burst forth, he appeared to be
red; he kept swaying from side to side. It was impossible to look into
his face; he blinded one with his light. Intensely did he shine. He
issued rays of light from himself; his rays reached in all directions;
his brilliant rays penetrated everywhere.
And afterwards Tecuciztecatl came to
rise, following behind him from
the same place—the east—near where the sun had come bursting forth. In
the same manner that they had fallen into the fire, just so they came
forth. They came following each other. And so they tell it; so they
relate the story and repeat the legend: Exactly equal had they become
in their appearance, as they shone. When the gods saw them, thus
exactly the same in their aspect, then once more there was
deliberation. They said: "How may this be, O gods? Will they perchance
both together follow the same path? Will they both shine together?"
And the gods all issued a judgment.
They said: "Thus will this be; thus
will this be done." Then one of the gods came out running. With a
rabbit he came to wound in the face this Tecuciztecatl; with it he
darkened his face; he killed its brilliance. Thus doth it appear today.
And when this was done, when both
appeared over the earth together,
they could, on the other hand, not move nor follow their paths. They
could only remain still and motionless. So once again the gods spoke:
"How shall we live? The sun cannot move. Shall we perchance live among
common folk? Let this be, that through us the sun may be revived. Let
all of us die."
Then it became the office of Ecatl to
slay the gods. But they say thus:
that Xolotl wished not to die. He said to the gods: "Let me not die, O
gods." Wherefore he wept much; his eyes and his eyelids swelled. And
when he who dealt death was to overtake him, he fled from his presence;
he ran; he quickly entered a field of green maize, and took the form
of, and quickly turned into, two young maize stalks growing from a
single root, which the workers in the field have named xolotl. But there, in the field of
green maize, he was seen. Then once again he fled from him; once more
he quickly entered a maguey field. There also he quickly changed
himself into a maguey plant consisting of two parts called mexolotl. Once more he was seen,
and once more he quickly entered into the water and went to take the
shape of an amphibious animal called axolotl.
There they could go to seize him, that they might slay him.
And they say that though all the gods
died, even then the sun god could
not move and follow his path. Thus it became the charge of Ecatl, the
wind, who arose and exerted himself fiercely and violently as he blew.
At once he could move him, who thereupon went on his way. And when he
had already followed his course, only the moon remained there. At the
time when the sun came to enter the place where he set, then once more
the moon moved. So, there, they passed each other and went each one his
own way. Thus the sun cometh forth once, and spendeth the whole day in
his work; and the moon undertaketh the night's task; he worketh all
night; he doth his labor at night.
From this it appeareth, it is said,
that the moon, Tecuciztecatl, would
have been the sun if he had been first to cast himself into the fire;
because he had presented himself first and all his offerings had been
costly in the penances.
Here endeth this legend and fable,
which was told in times past, and
was in the keeping of the old people.