# Journal of American Folk-Lore/Volume 12/Issue 44/Trique Theogony

TRIQUE THEOGONY.
AN ALLEGED SPECIMEN OF ANCIENT MEXICAN FOLK-LORE.
Among various objects of uncommon archaeological value which were brought this spring from Mexico to the Museum of Natural History by Mr. Marshall Saville, was also one of no small literary interest. I refer to a little brochure of not more than eight octavo pages, bearing the title "Teogonia Trique " (or Theogony of the Trique Tribe). Up to this day, nothing was known to us about this tribe than the bare name; that its people lived in the sierra of Oaxaca, in the reduced cluster of only six villages, and that they speak a language which but recently has been classified as being a dialect of the Mixteco-Zapotean tongue. This knowledge we owe to the investigations of Don Francisco Belmar, who has just published an essay on the Trique language. It was, therefore, no small surprise to learn that this hitherto practically unknown tribe should have created a theogony of their own.
When opening the pages we found them, to our regret, without any introductory preface, and therefore nothing that would warrant the authenticity of the text presented, except a short inscription on the fly-page, made by the author to a patron of his, which runs as follows: "To Manuel Martinez Gracida, the distinguished and studious statistician of Oaxaca, this first essay on ancient folk-lore is inscribed by his affectionate Cayetano Esteva."
Of the text I made a translation; but for lack of time I shall only give an abstract, which I suppose will furnish, for the present, sufficient material to form a general idea about the said Trique theogony.
In the beginning, it is said, the earth was but a mass of mud and slime, floating in the air.
Nexhequiriac, when casting from above a glance at it, exclaimed: "Life must be begotten on this circling body! I must have sons to help me in this glorious performance."
Nexhequiriac, therefore, proceeds to the creation of nine sons. These nine sons were (1) Naac Shishéc, the earth-god; (2) Naac Naac, the sun-god; (3) Naac Yahui, the moon-god; (4) Naac Cuhuí, the god of light; (5) Naac Cunmá, the god of water; (6) Naac Nanéc, the air-god; (7) Naac Yuhuéc, the frost-god; (8) Naac-Nimá, the god of death; (9) Naac Chunguy, the god of hell.
Nexhequiriac then convokes his sons and says: "Your brother, ​the earth-god, is not a very strong god. Which of you steps forth to give him help and strength?"
None of them, however, voluntarily steps forth. He therefore addresses the god of light, saying: "You, my son Cuhuí, you the heat of my body, descend to dry and bake that heap of slime and mud."
The god of light, obedient to the mandate, descends, but so much does he heat the earth that Nexhequiriac begins to fear he may consume it entirely. He exclaims: "You, my son Cunmá, you god of the water, make haste and help your brother to extinguish this great conflagration. Here, take my arms, the thunder and the lightning, and I give you also thy brother, the frost-god, for a companion."
Water and Frost go now to work as they were bidden. And, behold, the mountains, the hills, the ravines, the forests, and the rivers make their appearance.
But the frost-god on the summits of the sierra and the rain-god in the valleys were seen to overwork themselves in their labors, too. The one makes the earth too cold, too stiff, while the other makes it too wet, and Nexhequiriac, who fears an inundation, now dispatches the air-god to dry up the world by the sweep of his mighty lungs.
All this being done, Nexhequiriac declares the world is now created.
To make the work a perfect one, the great creator then proceeds to send down the sun-god and the moon-god, so that the earth may also have its own light and enjoy illumination.
The sun-god takes his course and runs his aerial way without halting. Not so the moon-god. He feels hungry. A rabbit crosses the path. To catch it, he spends precious time. When caught, more time is lost by stopping to eat it. He crams the rabbit in his mouth, it chokes his throat, he loses his breath, and, lo! he notices his brother is far ahead of him, and that he nevermore is able to join his company.
This is the reason, says the legend, why the sun is observed to be always ahead, and the moon behind. It is the reason also why the sun looks always fresh and red, while the moon looks sick and pale, and shows a rabbit dangling from her mouth. For, as they started on their journey, both were of the same complexion and color.
Nexhequiriac now longs for seeing the earth embellished with a mantle of green vegetation. To perform this work, all the nine gods together are summoned, and all obey except the god of death and the god of hell. They excuse themselves peremptorily to participate in so wasteful a sort of work.
​The earth, it is told, was then seeded by the seven gods. They spread on it the germs of all kinds of trees and plants, and finally also men made their appearance. The male was called Ndajá, or brother. The female is called Nimá, which means the heart.
When men now were enjoying and making use of the benefits presented them by the gods, the latter approach the male and tell him: "Brother Ndajá, here is a crown for you. But never must thou forget him who gave it to thee. If thou forgettest, thou art lost." And the same was also said to the female. Men propagate. They are promised eternal life as long as following the precepts of the gods.
The god of hell, however, cannot refrain from interfering and growing meddlesome with poor humanity. Nexhequiriac becomes aware of it. He, of course, foresees that calamity and final ruin must result from the influence that the fiendish interloper had been gradually gaining over mankind. The good god decides upon intervention, and how he succeeds in carrying out his benevolent intentions is gracefully narrated as follows: He calls the god of hell to his side. He tells him that he has resolved upon celebrating a great festival. All mankind should come and attend it, the purpose being to receive from men, on this occasion, universal thanks that he has made them so happy as they are. To aid him in the preparations for this festival, he charges Chunguy (the god of hell) with the honorable task to convoke the chorus and the orchestra of the whole orb. A mission, however, like this, was wholly against Chunguy's malicious temper. He disobeys. Now Nexhequiriac, in order to punish him and have the festival take place without him, convokes the singers and the musicians by his own voice. He bids them put strings crosswise before their mouths and those of their instruments, and then to blow with all their might. Terrified by the frightful discord that fills the air, Chunguy, we are told, rushes away to hide in the depths of his cavern. It is only at night-time that he dares to come forth and trouble mankind with the appearance of dreadful visions and spectres.
Notwithstanding, in the course of time, mankind deteriorates. Nexhequiriac, who wants to have his children pure, and grateful to him, resolves upon the plan of a new creation. He orders the four gods, of Water, Air, Death, Fire, to destroy mankind, and leave alive only one male and one female. The destruction proceeds. The two human beings are put in a wooden box. They are allowed to provide themselves with certain seeds of plants and with some pairs of animals. They thus escape annihilation. If the box be not big enough to hold all varieties of plants and animals, the gods will take care later for their reproduction. The box and its contents, we are ​told, were safely landed upon a mountain, and a ditch of nine yards' depth was dug around it to keep it intact.
Of those two beings, who were saved from general destruction, the Triques say that they had been their progenitors and those of all inhabitants of our earth. Herewith the tale ends. Signed, Cayetano Esteva.
Let something still be said as to the impression which this curious composition has made upon my mind.
On account of the above inscription and its brief yet somewhat suggestive tenor, one is, of course, induced to believe that the young folk-lorist must have gathered his material either from the lips of the native Triques themselves, or, at least, from the mouths of other individuals whom he supposed to be equipped with authentic information in regard to the legends of this world-forgotten tribe. Whether the one or the other was the case, it is difficult to elicit from the tenor of the few inscriptive lines. But I do not think that any of the items or compounds of his report are an arbitrary product of his poetic turn of mind. From such reproach we must absolve him. We only wish he would have told his tale in a language less refined, less filled with the perfume of Castilian literary fragrance. When he believed that this specimen of ancient Mexican folk-lore would thereby be rendered more attractive to the ear of the cultured reader, he was mistaken. But to his praise we must say that sometimes he felt that in his polishing he went too far. For at certain passages we observe that he chooses to introduce the persons ad-dressing each other just in that idiomatic and specific idiomatic metaphorical language bred in the Mexican "tlatoani."
As to the items of which the framework of the theogony is constructed, it is not my impression that the latter is a genuine product of the Trique tribe. More than half a dozen specimens of ancient Mexican cosmogonies are extant. Therefore we are able to make comparisons. I mention a few that just occur to my memory. We possess cosmogonies told by Alva de Ixtlilxochitl, by Veytia, Mendieta, Añales de Quauhtitlan, the Libro de Oro, the Popol Vuh. In painting we have the cosmogony of the Codex Vaticanus, and in sculpture that on the Calendar-Stone. Comparison leads to the apparent result that the Trique version is but a very ingenious summary of characteristics common to the cosmogonies of the other Mexican tribes. That which is recognizable as specifically Trique is only the nomenclature of the gods. To enter upon the literary anatomy, and to expound which of each Trique item may be considered a loan from the one or the other tribes, would require too much time. Moreover, dissecting is sometimes a tedious and thankless affair, to be left to the professional surgeon.
​Let us enjoy the presentation as a whole. Whoever be its original author, whether an early and well-read Spanish missionary, or a Mexican of the modern school, it must be owned that he knew how to weave the foreign fibres so adroitly together that no seam is left visible. What made it attractive to us, at first sight, was the unwonted and wonderful humor with which here and there the tale is salted.
This alone may recommend it to incorporation in folk-lore annals. Think of that breathless moon-god plodding behind his worthy brother, the throat choked with a kicking rabbit! Think of the supreme god who tries to secure men's salvation by the clever trick of putting out of tune the instruments of the orchestra divine, and causing such a disharmonious pitch that even vile Satanas cannot stand the caterwauling! He has to run away and seek rest in his cavernous abode, the hell, in which, indeed, we wish he would have remained bottled up—forever.
Ph. J.J. Valentini.
Note.—The foregoing paper contains the last of the contributions to Mexicana made by the well-known author. Dr. Valentini passed away from this life in New York, March 16, 1899.—Editor of the Journal of American Folk-Lore.