The Evening Star – Apotheosis of Dog

After wrapping up my little piece about Morning Star mythology in Pre-Columbian America, I turned back to re-creating Aztec codex pages from the calendar and my work on the Vulture trecena (13-day ‘week’), its patron being the god of the Evening Star. The detailed process of pixelating is fairly time-consuming and lends itself to much cogitation and curiosity about the deity at hand. But first some Maya stuff on the Evening Star.

Lady Evening Star of Yaxchilan

No surprise, but my internet search provided precious few hits for Maya Evening Star, the only one being for a Maya queen of Yaxchilan named Great Skull and known as Lady Evening Star. Here’s some fancy ancient royalty gossip: A princess from the formidable city-state Calakmul, she married the ruler of Yaxchilan, Itzamnaaj B’alam III (Shield Jaguar the Great), was the mother of Yaxun B’alam IV (Bird Jaguar) and ruled 742-751 CE until her son’s maturity.

Apart from being the title of a regal queen, other Maya concepts of the Evening Star, if there were any, have been lost to the fires of history. Unless they were carved in stone like this portrait of Lady Evening Star on Stela 35 from Yaxchilan. References on Venus, a hugely important theme in Maya astronomy and culture, rarely even mention the Evening Star, though the Maya well knew it was related to the Morning Star as another phase of that planet.

I have no doubt that the famous Dresden Codex probably discusses the Evening Star, but I can’t read through those boggling glyphs looking for mentions and have no idea what it was called in either the Yucatec or Quiché Maya languages. But I really wanted to find out something of the history and mythology of my Vulture trecena patron.

That’s why I went back to my program from the Getty Museum show of the Maya Codex of Mexico (the Grolier Codex), a Maya-Toltec document dating 1021-1154 CE, where in the fragmentary pages on the cycles of Venus, I’d found the Morning Star image that inspired my earlier blog. In fact, for the Evening Star phases, the Maya Codex contains three gruesome images that show a deity with a death’s-head/skull-face. The best preserved presents a deity holding up a victim/prisoner’s bleeding head, apparently having recently decapitated the poor fellow with a large flint knife in his other hand. The skull-faces no doubt mean that the Maya identified the Evening Star is an entity of the Underworld (Xibalba), which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They considered life and death a mystical continuum.

Evening Star, Codex Maya de Mexico

The Underworld connection could well belong to an original Maya notion of the Evening Star. In later traditions, it was considered the guide/companion of the sun on its nightly journey through the Underworld. The earlier Maya may well have had a similar myth for the bright star that followed the setting sun. I hesitate to speculate on the Maya meaning of the victim in this scene, but it bears witness to the long-standing tradition of human sacrifice in Mesoamerica. Natural phenomena (like the movement of the sun, the rain, etc.) always came at a price in human blood.

Though the Maya Codex shows the Morning and Evening phases of Venus as different types of figures (including a being with a mask suggestive of a storm-deity), they understood well that it was all the same planet. Maybe Chak Ek’ was actually the deity of Venus itself, making no distinction between its phases: 236 days as Morning Star, 90 days in superior conjunction (behind the Sun), 250 days as Evening Star, and 8 days in inferior conjunction (passing between Earth and Sun). That would explain finding no evidence of separate deities, but of course finding no evidence of something doesn’t prove the absence of that something.

Similarly, I’ve found nothing on what the Venus-phases meant to the culture of Teotihuacan, which certainly revered the planet as the god Quetzalcoatl. That central Mexican metropolis possibly also didn’t separately deify the Morning and Evening Stars. However, the Maya Codex indicates that by Toltec times the concepts of the two phases were diverging, at least in their visualizations. At some time in succeeding centuries, later Nahua cultures evidently completed the separation, generating the new deity Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (Lord of the House of the Dawn) for the Morning Star and another called Xolotl for the Evening Star.

Oddly, they deified the dog as the Evening Star—literally the apotheosis of dog! In two of the surviving “Aztec” codices, the new god appears in strikingly similar poses vividly recalling the decapitation motif in the Maya Codex. The earlier Underworld connection of the Evening Star is suggested by the night-capes both of these Xolotls wear.

Two Xolotls with Victims, Codex Fejervary-Mayer l., Codex Vaticanus r.

Since so little is known about the Maya Evening Star, most authorities like to extrapolate the later mythology of Xolotl back into that period, but I wonder if such lore was in fact inherited. The Maya indeed revered the dog as a guide, companion, protector and bringer of light to darkness, which may have involved escorting the sun through the night. However, Xolotl’s role as psychopomp for souls through the Land of the Dead (Mictlan), eerily paralleling the Hellenic concept of Cerberus in Hades and the Egyptian god Anubis, may well be a later elaboration.

A specific Maya reference to the dog is four images on pp. 25, 26, 27 & 28 of the Dresden Codex shown in relation to rituals for celebrating new years, but I don’t know how that might fit into the ancestry of Xolotl. In any case, they underline the cultural importance of the dog.

Xolotl appears relatively often in the surviving codices, in all but one instance in the guise of a dog. In Codex Borgia the dog-god occurs three times in its typically ornamented style, one too damaged to make out any details. The figure on the left below appears in the “magical journey” sequence, and the central image is from a “heaven temple.” The Sun symbol on its back refers to escorting the Sun through the Underworld at night. Earlier in the codex, as patron of the day Earthquake, Xolotl appears uniquely as a deformed human—which is no doubt why scholars have called him the deity of monstrosities, including twins. (The twin theme obviously refers to the close relationship between the Evening and Morning Stars.)

Three Xolotls, Codex Borgia

In two other codices, Xolotl is depicted as a fairly naturalistic dog, unfortunately not naturalistic enough to discern its breed. In the Nahuatl language, “dog” is Itzcuintli, but that’s also a generic term. These images only indicate some sort of a shaggy dog, not at all like the hairless canine Xoloitzcuintli (named for the god) which has been designated the national dog of Mexico. These dogs also look nothing like the small chihuahua which was apparently raised for eating. The spiked collar on the left example I expect is an abstracted “night-sun” symbol, and the explicit anatomy of the central figure is hard to overlook.

Three Naturalistic Xolotls, Two (l.) from Codex Vaticanus and One (r.) from Codex Laud

Said to have come from the area of Veracruz, Codex Fejervary-Mayer conversely presents Xolotl as a full-fledged, anthropomorphic canine deity ensconced in an elegant temple. In addition, the codex contains several pages with this Xolotl in various aggressive postures, (including eating someone’s head!), which recall panels of Morning Star violence. In one, Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli mysteriously wears a dog’s head. These Codex F-M scenes may indicate a lingering conceptual overlap between the two phases of Venus in a distant conservative area of Mexico.

Two Xolotls, Codex Fejervary-Mayer

The scene on the right surely relates to the earlier images with victim, but here blood issues from his body like from a heart sacrifice. Another conservative aspect of Codex F-M iconography is that, except for the first one holding the victim and heart, its Xolotl dog-gods all have the same head—basically that of those anthropomorphic New-Year dogs in the Dresden Codex. Here we see examples of mythological evolution in action.

In codices with tonalamatls (books of the Aztec Calendar), Xolotl is celebrated as the patron of the Vulture trecena and formally consecrated as the god-dog, often enthroned.

Three Divine Xolotls, (l – r) Codices Borbonicus, Borgia and Vaticanus

Besides their masses of divine regalia, all three wear the conch-shell pendant (‘wind-jewel’) symbolizing their connection to Quetzalcoatl/Venus, but none is breed-specific. Curiously, the Vaticanus example is swaddled in a traditional corpse-bundle, perhaps a veiled reference to the Evening Star’s Underworld connection. Now that’s a trio of indisputably alpha dogs!

In its Vulture trecena patron panel, Codex Telleriano-Remensis, an early post-Conquest text painted on European paper, takes the dog to a yet higher level of glory, presenting a fantastic, iconic, metaphorical scene of Xolotl as the brilliant Evening Star with a gleaming Sun (Tonatiuh) setting into the gaping maw of Tlaltecuhtli, Lord of the Earth.

Evening Star with Setting Sun
From Codex Telleriano-Remensis (re-creation)

Personally, as an opinionated artist, I think this eye-boggling panel is an absolute epitome of Aztec iconography. You’re welcome to your own opinion. Meanwhile, I’ll note that here Xolotl looks absurdly like a Pekinese, but that makes no difference to the spectacular metaphor.

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Unlike the myths of the Morning Star, it’s surprising that with the celebrity of Xolotl in Mesoamerica, the Evening Star cult didn’t spread into North America. However, the dog’s traditional loyalty, companionship, guidance and protection was generally appreciated by tribes across the whole continent, and sometimes it was included in rituals and ceremonies. I’ve only found a few legendary references from the Ojibwe and Pawnee (usually about wife or daughter of the Evening Star) and one from the Algonquin about an Osseo, Son of the Evening Star, but there’s no connection to a dog. It seems that Xolotl’s godhead was only valid in Mexico.

But that hasn’t mattered much. All across North America, dogs domesticated humans beings and became de facto gods in their own right, ruling their mortal owners’ Morning (days) and Evening (nights) and living (for the most part) idle lives of divine luxury. Their worshipful care consumes an enormous sector of the economy, I’d bet grossly larger even than that for religious institutions—an apotheosis without even needing an Evening Star mystique or human sacrifice.

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The Mighty Morning Star

For at least 35 years, I’ve been fascinated by the art and iconography of the Aztecs of central Mexico, specifically by their ceremonial calendar, and didn’t pay much attention to that of the Maya from several hundred years earlier of Yucatan and Guatemala. I saw little connection between cultures beyond the philosophical structure of the ceremonial calendar that had passed down over millennia from the even earlier Olmec through both the Maya and Teotihuacan to the Toltecs and on to the Nahuatl peoples and late-coming Aztecs. But that was just because I was resolutely ignorant of Mesoamerican history.

Of course, I’d seen a few examples of the art of the earlier cultures, mostly pieces of Maya murals from San Bartolo and Bonampak:

Details of the San Bartolo and Bonampak Maya Murals

While remarkably elegant, they didn’t seem to relate much to my favorite Aztec styles and subjects. The same could be said about my passing acquaintance with the few Maya codices that survived the Spanish book burnings like the Madrid and Dresden codices. I never even bothered to look into the Paris codex.

Details of the Madrid and Dresden Maya Codices

Though impressed with these later Postclassic documents, I left ancient Maya art and mythology to other friends and scholars and blithely continued my intimacies with the Aztec calendar and their wild deities, assuming little iconographic continuity over the intervening centuries.

My ill-informed attitude changed when a kind friend returned from a show at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles in early January 2023 with the program for “Códice Maya de México” (Maya Codex of Mexico). A fourth surviving codex I hadn’t known about, it was only discovered in 1965 and previously called the Grolier Codex. The document has been dated to between 1021 and 1154 CE, earlier the other three Maya codices.

The severely damaged manuscript tracks and predicts the movements of the planet Venus (also the subject of the Dresden Codex), a prime concern of the Maya for both agriculture and divination. Its ten fragmentary panels deal with Inferior and Superior conjunctions, Evening Star, and Morning Star, each with thirteen of the same Maya calendrical day-signs in various disordered numerical sequences. The program explains that each date “marks the crucial first day of a phase of Venus.”

I can’t pretend to understand the astronomical system, but the deities accompanying the phases with their personal regalia and ritual activities were strikingly familiar, also hinting of the art of Teotihuacan and Toltec. Their headdresses, ornaments, pendants, and weapons—as well as bound prisoners— could easily be Aztec images. The panel that particularly held my eye was page 8, the second one dealing with the Morning Star phase:

Panel 8 of the Maya Codex of Mexico

The repeating day-glyph is Kib—corresponding to the Aztec Cozcacuauhtli (Vulture)—and the sequence 10, 5, 13, 8, 4, etc. (if that’s the direction the count runs), mystifies me. The eagle-clawed deity with bird headdress must surely be the Maya god of the Morning Star known as Chak Ek’. The arrow/spear that he shot into the temple is a familiar motif in the Aztec codices from centuries later.

That and the structure of repeating numbered day-signs recall five mysterious panels in Codex Borgia of Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli (Lord of the House of the Dawn—the Morning Star) attacking gods and places in this way. Checking into those panels, I found them each also accompanied by odd sequences of the same, though different, day-signs. What’s more, similar sets of Morning Star panels in both Codex Vaticanus and Codex Cospi apparently also reflect the Maya theme.

However, while the Maya panels involve the seven day-signs Wind, Lizard, Rabbit, Grass, Jaguar, Vulture, and Flint, the Aztec panels use five different day-signs: Crocodile, Snake, Water, Reed, and Earthquake. So, the Aztecs clearly were using the numbered-day structure of these Morning Star panels for some purpose other than astronomy.

Morning Star Panels with Day-Sign Crocodile

This first set displays an oddly numbered sequence of Crocodile day-signs with the next three day-signs (Wind, House, and Lizard) appearing inside the main panel. The numbering runs clockwise in Borgia from lower right (1, 8, 2, 9, 3, 10, etc.), and counterclockwise in Vaticanus from the same position. This turns out to be the sequence of the day-sign’s occurrence in the calendar count (tonalpohualli), not any notation of Venus cycles.

Meanwhile, in the Cospi version, the lower half of a double panel, the border shows successive days in their properly numbered calendrical order, and with the other half above is a curious sequence of 1 Snake, 6 Death, 7 Deer, and 8 Rabbit. The other Cospi panels for 1 Water, 1Reed, and 1 Earthquake take the odd count through Flower, sorely confusing the basic principle.

All five day-signs, Crocodile, Snake, Water, Reed, and Earthquake symbolize East, which is perfectly fitting for the Morning Star. The border sequences are ordered lists of all calendar days relating to East, and the three other days shown inside the panels represent the other directions:

Now let’s consider the narrative content of the Crocodile (above) and other panels in this series:

Morning Star Panels with Day-Sign Snake

Morning Star Panels with Day-Sign Water

Morning Star Panels with Day-Sign Reed
Morning Star Panels with Day-Sign Earthquake

In the Borgia series, Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli appears in various guises, a Death god, Eagle, Dog, Rabbit, and another Death god. In Vaticanus, he’s a consistent image of a flayed deity with “dangerous” eyes, and in Cospi he’s more or less the same Death god. In all of these images, he attacks someone or something with a spear. Apparently, bellicosity implies great power.

Considering his victims confuses things. In the Borgia Crocodile set, he attacks Chalchiuhtlicue, in Vaticanus some male god (maybe Xochipilli), and in Cospi Centeotl. In the Snake set, the Borgia victim is Tezcatlipoca, and in Vaticanus and Cospi Chalchiuhtlicue. In the Water set, in Borgia he attacks Centeotl, but in Vaticanus and Cospi the throne of a water deity (Tlaloc?). In all the Reed sets, he attacks the throne of some deity, and in the Earthquake set, he strikes a military symbol in Borgia and the divine jaguar of rulership in the others.

That variation in victims doesn’t explain why the Morning Star is so aggressively pugnacious, but it certainly helps understand how Tlahuizcalpantecuhtli had the chutzpah to attack the Sun God Tonatiuh during the creation of the Fifth Sun. Ever since Maya times, the Morning Star seems to have been a mighty bad boy much to be feared. In Aztec mythology he became an important nagual (manifestation) of the great god Quetzalcoatl, the Plumed Serpent.

On his way to Aztec fame, during the earlier Toltec (Postclassic) era, the cult of the Morning Star was apparently carried in the 12th century by those trader/warriors to the Mississippian civilization in North America. An effigy pipe called “Big Boy” from that period was found at Spiro OK in an astronomical arrangement representing creation myths. It portrays Morningstar, a mythical warrior also known as Redhorn.

Mississippian Effigy Pipe “Big Boy” (drawing by author)

The Morning Star was also a Mississippian culture hero referred to as Birdman, and imagery of him with wings and clawed feet like the Maya Chak Ek’ is found in rock art, shell gorgets, and copper ornaments throughout the Mississippian area. In the mythologies of later tribes, he’s a prominent deity/hero: Apisirahts for the Blackfoot and either male or female deities for the Iroquois, Wichita, Pawnee, Ojibwe, Crow, and other tribes. In the Southwest, the Tewa have a Morning Star god called ‘Agojo so’jo (Big Star), a messenger of the Sun associated with warfare. Obviously, for at least a thousand years, the Morning Star has been a mighty myth of the Americas, and it’s still revered among Native American artists.

Morning Star Design by Contemporary Acoma Artist Irvin J. Louis, c. 2022

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