Monks Mound
Monks Mound (pictured above, right) is the largest structure and central focus of the city: a massive platform mound with four terraces, 10 stories tall, and the largest man-made earthen mound north of Mexico. Facing south, it is 100 ft (30 m) high, 951 ft (290 m) long, 836 ft (255 m) wide and covers 13.8 acres (5.6 ha). It also contains about 814,000 cu yd (622,000 m3) of earth. The mound grew in stature over the course of several centuries through as many as ten separate construction episodes, as the mound was made ever higher and the terraces and apron were added.
Monks Mounds received its name due to the community of Trappist monks that resided there for a short time, after Euroamericans settled the area. Excavation on the top of Monks Mound has revealed evidence of a large building, likely a temple or the residence of the paramount chief, which would have been seen throughout the city. This building was about 105 ft (32 m) long and 48 feet (15 m) wide, and could have been as much as 50 ft (15 m) high. It was about 5,000 sq ft (460 m2).
A large plaza located adjacent to Monks Mound was a place where games and public rituals took place. The most popular of the games was the game of Chunkey. The game was played with young men rolling a pill-shaped chunky stone across the field. The men would throw spears where they thought the chunky stone would land. The game required a great deal of judgement and aim.
The east and northwest sides of Monks Mound were twice excavated in August 2007 during an attempt to avoid erosion due to slumping.
Read more about this topic: Cahokia
Famous quotes containing the words monks and/or mound:
“If you understand why a monkey in a family is always mocked and harassed, you understand why monks are rejected by all—both old and young.”
—François Rabelais (1494–1553)
“A mound of refuse or the sweepings of a street,
Old kettles, old bottles, and a broken can,
Old iron, old bones, old rags, that raving slut
Who keeps the till. Now that my ladder’s gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start,
In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.”
—William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)