Because of the work I do sharing information about Nahuatl lexicon and grammar, I (very occasionally) get into debates on Twitter about the niceties of this word or that. A recent disagreement about the meaning of “Tlaloc” got me thinking.
I should write about the origins of the names of major Aztec gods.
Now here we are. If you’ll strap yourselves in, we’ll ride up and down the World Tree, taking a look at major Mesoamerican deities from a linguistic perspective.
It makes sense to go in alphabetical. But there are no major gods in the As, so let’s skip to the Cs.
Centzonhuītznāhuah. The Four Hundred Gods of the South, representing the stars of the southern hemisphere. How does that name break down?
“Centzon-” is the number “four hundred” (literally “one bunch of hair”), metaphorically “uncountable.”
To understand the other half of the name, you need to know that “huitznāhuac” means “beside the thorns” (from “huitztli.” thorn, and “nāhuac,” beside).
This was also a word for “South” in Classical Nahuatl. A “huitztnāhuatl” = “Southerner.” Its plural is “huitznāhuah.”
So the gods were literally the “Four Hundred Southerners.”
Now, these bros had one older sister.
Coyolxāuhqui.
Her name consists of “coyolli” (bells made from shells) and the verb “[mo]xāhua” (to have one’s face painted), which has “xauhqui” as one participle (a form that can function as a noun/adjective).
So “[she] who has bells painted on [her] face.”
She led her brothers in a rebellion against their mother, Cōātlīcue. This name is more properly written as two words: Cōātl īcue.
“Cōātl” means snake in this case, and “īcue” is a possessed form of “cuēitl” (skirt) — the possessive prefix “ī-” means “its/her/his” (or singular their).
Tricky. This is just the way possession works in Nahuatl grammar. You just have to add that prefix. But then you must read it correctly. The name isn’t “her skirt of snakes” but “snake skirt” (literally “snake its-skirt,” which can be read “snakes their-skirt”).
Goddess Snake Skirt. And she wears one.
Her kids were mad because she got pregnant though her husband was gone. And who was he?
Good question.
The Tlaxcaltēcah called him “Camaxtli,” an old and difficult name.
The Mexica and other Nahuas called him Mixcōātl, which comes from “mixtli” (cloud) and “cōātl” (snake).
Cloud Snake.
One of many theories put forth about the other name is — it originally paralleled his wife’s. If she’s Snake Skirt, maybe he was … Snake Breechcloth!
That would be either Cōātl īmāxtli or Cōāmāxtli.
The idea is that time and use distorted the name into Camaxtli. However, I’m not convinced. The “breechcloth” part makes sense, though. Perhaps the ca- comes from “cactli” (sandals). It’s easier to for “Cacmāxtli” to become “Cammāxtli” (through a process called assimilation) and then Camaxtli.
He was god of the hunt and the Milky Way.
Now, who was this baby Cōātl īcue’s other 401 kids wanted to kill her over?
Huītzilōpōchtli. God of War and the Sun. Patron of the Mexica.
His name appears to breaks down into “huītzilin” (hummingbird) and “ōpōchtli” (left-hand side). Now, that second word can also mean “South,” as the Aztecs saw the South as the left side of the world (when facing West, toward the setting sun).
Hummingbird modifies South, so the meaning would be “Hummingbird Left” or “Hummingbird South” (not “Left Hummingbird” or “Southern Hummingbird”).
This translation is not very satisfying. We’re missing something here.
Other “huītz” words (beyond the above “huītznāhuac”) indicate southern-ness, like “huitzilātēnco” (beside the Southern Sea).
In the exodus story of the Mexica, their chief priest, the one who began leading them South, was named Huitzitl. After generations, it was revealed that he was actually their god, AKA Mēxihtli.
Here’s what one source says: “Huitzitl in ītōcā auh yecen opochmayeh” or “His name was Huitzitl and he was definitely left-handed.”
Perhaps the name for the hummingbird and the god both come from the idea that a left-handed god was leading them into the land of thorns to the South, the Chichimec wastelands.
But the origin of his name remains a mystery, frankly.
In some sacred stories, Mixcōātl was abandoned by his mother, Cihuācōātl.
Her name is straightforward: it comes from “cihuātl” (woman/female) and “cōātl” (snake/twin).
So “Female Snake” (or, less likely “female twin”).
She was a fierce mother goddess who created humanity grinding up bones of previous failed attempts. She was also known as Quilaztli (another old, obscure name). A few sources call her Cōācihuātl (Snake Woman). In addition to aiding childbirth, she helps women who die giving birth transform into “cihuātēteoh” (“goddesses”), scary beings that accompany the sun’s descent.
Highly important to a civilization dependent on maize was Cinteōtl, god of corn. His name is pretty literal: “cintli” means “dried ear of corn” and “teōtl” means “god.” A regional variant gave “centli” and “Centeōtl.”
Corn God.
Like most Aztec gods, he was part of a duality. His female “half” was Chicomecōātl. Since “chicome-” means “seven,” this goddess is “Seven Snake,” which is also an actual calendar day.
These names have many possible implications, but the most intriguing to me is that in Maya traditions, paired gods often had the same name, prefixed by “one” and “seven” to show their duality, like “Hun Kame” and “Wukub’ Kame,” the two gods of the underworld in the Popol Vuh.
In any event, Chicomecōātl is also called Xīlōnen, clearly derived from “xīlōtl” (young ear of corn) and “nenetl.” That second word can mean “doll, figurine,” but also metaphorically “vulva.” Given the fertility role of this goddess, that meaning makes more sense in the name’s etymology.
Another very important deity was Chālchiuhtlīcue, patron of water, rivers, seas, streams, storms, and baptism. Her name should be two words: Chālchihuitl īcue. “Chālchihuitl” is “jade.” We already saw that “īcue” means “its-skirt.”
Jade Skirt.
A variant is “Chālchiuhcuēyeh.” Without the -tl absolutive suffix, “chālchihuitl” becomes “chālchiuh” (CHAAL — chiw). If you prefix that root to “cueītl” (skirt), you get “chālchiuhcuēitl” (jade-skirt). Classical Nahuatl has a suffix to show that someone/thing possesses another person/thing: “-eh.”
So “Chālchiuhcuēyeh” means “possessor of jade-skirt” or “She of the Jade Skirt.”
She was the chief deity of the Fourth Age of the world, which she ended by flooding the earth (after being tricked by Tezcatlipoca).
Her husband was Tlāloc.
Another purveyor of Nahuatl etymologies suggests that the name of the rain god comes from “tlālli” (earth … yes, good so far) and, um, “octli” (wine, liquor). Tlāloctli, shortened.
Earth Wine. Because … the earth drinks rain up? This is highly unlikely.
Most linguists agree that the most probably derivation is “tlālli” + “oc,” the past tense of the verb “o” (to lie, to be stretched out). In Nahuatl, this defective verb uses its past tense as present in many compounds.
So “Tlāloc” would mean “[he] lies upon the earth,” like the thick clouds and mist that signal his watery bounty.
He’s assisted by many helpers, the Tlālōqueh (“Tlalocs”) who dump rain and make thunder crack. That long “ō” complicates everything I’ve said.
If the god’s name should actually be “Tlālōc,” we’re back to square one.
Old mysteries. They continue to confound us.
The son of Tlāloc and Chālchiuhtlicue is Tēcciztēcatl. This odd name literally translates to “person from Tēcciztlān,” a locative meaning “beside the tēcciztli” or “conch shell[s]” (those left by the marine snail Lobatus gigas or queen conch, used as trumpets). In some dialects of Nahuatl, the shell was known as the “tēucciztli” (tekw SIS tli), giving rise to the variant of this god’s name, Tēucciztēcatl.
He was arrogant, but cowardly. At the start of the Fifth Age (this one), it became clear that two gods would have to sacrifice themselves to bring light to the world. Tēcciztēcatl got ready to become the sun like mom and dad. But he chickened out of throwing himself onto the fire until another god did so. As a result, the gods darkened his brightness by throwing a rabbit at his face, high up in the heavens.
He became a lesser light, marked by the impact.
Mētztli Tēcciztēcatl. Tecciztecatl, the moon.
As you might imagine, this Nahua tale would have been complicated by Mexica belief that Coyolxauhqui was the moon. It’s hard, at this remove, to know just how the discrepancies were resolved, if they ever were.
We tend to tolerate contradictions in our religious beliefs, viewing them as divine mysteries.