Incidents of Travel in Yucatan, Vol. I.
by John L. Stephens · English · Gutenberg #33129 · 728,158 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Incidents of Travel in Yucatan, Vol. I.
Author: John L. Stephens
Release date: July 10, 2010 [eBook #33129]
Most recently updated: January 6, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33129
Credits: Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN YUCATAN, VOL. I. ***
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
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2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
[Engraving 1: Frontispiece--Casa del Gobernador, Uxmal]
INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL
IN
YUCATAN.
BY JOHN L. STEPHENS,
AUTHOR OF "INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN EGYPT, ARABIA PETRAEA, AND THE
HOLY LAND," "INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN CENTRAL AMERICA," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY 120 ENGRAVINGS.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
NEW YORK:
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS
FOR HENRY BILL.
1848.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York
PREFACE.
In his "Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas, and Yucatan,"
the author intimated his intention to make a more thorough exploration
of the ruins of the latter country. That intention has since been
carried into effect, and the following pages are the result. They
describe, as the author has reason to believe, the most extensive
journey ever made by a stranger in that peninsula, and contain the
account of visits to forty-four ruined cities, or places in which
remains or vestiges of ancient population were found. The existence of
most of these ruins was entirely unknown to the residents of the
capital;--but few had ever been visited by white inhabitants;--they
were desolate, and overgrown with trees. For a brief space the
stillness that reigned around them was broken, and they were again left
to solitude and silence. Time and the elements are hastening them to
utter destruction. In a few generations, great edifices, their facades
covered with sculptured ornaments, already cracked and yawning, must
fall, and become mere shapeless mounds. It has been the fortune of the
author to step between them and the entire destruction to which they
are destined; and it is his hope to snatch from oblivion these
perishing, but still gigantic memorials of a mysterious people. The
descriptions are accompanied by full illustrations from Daguerreotype
views and drawings taken on the spot by Mr. Catherwood, and the
engravings were executed under his personal superintendence.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
Embarcation.--Fellow-passengers.--A Gale at Sea.--Arrival at
Sisal.--Orinthological Specimens.--Merida.--Fete of San Cristoval.--The
Lottery.--A Scene of Confusion.--Principle of the Game.--Passion for
Gambling.--A deformed Indian.
CHAPTER II.
Housekeeping.--Description of a Bull-ring.--A
Bull-fight.--Spectators.--Brutal Torments inflicted on the
Bulls.--Serious Accidents.--A noble Beast.--An exciting
Scene.--Victims to Bullfighting.--Danger and Ferocity of
Bull-fights.--Effects on moral Character.--Grand Mass.--A grand
Procession.--The Alameda.--Calesas.--A Concert, and its
Arrangements.--Fete of Todos Santos.--A singular Custom.--An
Incident.
CHAPTER III.
An Old Friend.--Brief Account of Yucatan.--Early Voyages of
Discovery.--Columbus.--De Solis and Pinzon.--Expedition of
Cordova.--Voyages of Grijalva.--Expedition of Cortez.--Mission of
Montejo, who receives a Grant from Charles V.--Discoveries, Conquests,
and Sufferings of Montejo and his Companions.--Efforts to convert the
Natives.--Contreras.--Farther Particulars relating to the Conquest of
Yucatan.
CHAPTER IV.
Political State of Yucatan.--Alliance with Texas.--Presentation to the
Governor.--His Character and Personal Appearance.--A Cordial
Reception.--An Arrival of Strangers.--A Citizen of the World.--Another
old Acquaintance.--Population of Merida.--Climate.--General Aspect of
Merida.--An interesting Edifice.--Mode of naming Streets.--Sculptured
Figures.--Churches.--Franciscan Convent.--A Memorial of the
Past.--Ruined Cities of America.--Former Conclusions confirmed.
CHAPTER V.
Daguerreotype Apparatus.--Set up as Ladies' Daguerreotype Portrait
Takers.--Preparations.--A pretty young Lady to begin
with.--Preliminaries.--A Chapter of Contingencies.--Success of the
first Experiment.--Other successful Experiments.--A Change of
Fortune.--Give up this Business.--An Incident.--Take up the Practice of
Surgery.--Operation for Strabismus.--Details.--First Subject.--A
great Gathering of Squint Eyes.--A troublesome Patient.--A little
Hero.--Extraordinary Instance of Fortitude;--A Military Patient.--A
Female Patient--Practice of Surgery abandoned.--Instability of Fame.
CHAPTER VI.
Departure from Merida.--Map of Yucatan.--Timucui.--Tekoh.--Human Skulls
and Bones.--Church of Tekoh.--Convent.--A revolting Spectacle.--View
from the Top of the Church.--Cura of Tekoh.--Journey continued.--A
curious Basin.--Telchaquillo.--A subterraneous Well.--An extraordinary
Cave.--Hacienda of Joaquin.--Ruins of Mayapan.--A remarkable
Mound.--Curious sculptured Remains.--Another extraordinary Cave.--A
circular Edifice.--A double Row of Columns.--Ranges of
Mounds.--Arches.--Derivation of the Word Yucatan.--Ancient City of
Mayapan.
CHAPTER VII.
An Accident.--Journey continued.--Hacienda of Xcanchakan.--An Indian
Dance.--Whipping an Indian.--Hacienda of Mucuyche.--A Bath in a
Senote.--Hacienda of San Jose.--Arrival at Uxmal.--First Sight of the
Ruins.--Changes since last Visit.--House of the Dwarf.--House of the
Nuns.--Casa del Gobernador.--Residence at the Ruins.--Unpromising
Appearances.--How to make a Fire.--Instance of Perseverance.--Arrival
of Luggage on the Backs of Indians.--First Night at Uxmal.
CHAPTER VIII.
Perplexities.--Household Wants.--Indian Mode of boiling
Eggs.--Clearings.--A valuable Addition.--Description of the
Ruins.--Casa del Gobernador.--Hieroglyphics.--Ornaments over the
Doorways.--Ground Plan.--Doorways.--Apartments.--Great Thickness
of the back Wall.--A Breach made in the Wall.--Prints of a Red
Hand.--Sculptured Beam of Hieroglyphics.--Wooden Lintels.--Loss of
Antiquities by the Burning of Mr. Catherwood's Panorama.--Terraces.--A
curious Stone.--Circular Mound.--Discovery of a Sculptured
Monument.--Square Stone Structure.--Sculptured
Heads.--Staircase.--House of the Turtles.
CHAPTER IX.
Journey to Jalacho.--Execrable Road.--Sight of Ruins at Sennisacal.--A
motley Multitude.--Village of Becal.--The
Cura.--Breakfast.--Ruins.--Arrival at Jalacho.--A great
Fair.--Fete of Santiago.--Miracles.--Figure of St. James.--Bull-fight
and Bull-fighters.--Horse-market.--Scenes in the
Plaza.--Gambling.--Primitive Circulating Medium.--A Memorial of
Home.--A Ball.--Search for Ruins.--Hacienda of Sijoh.--Mounds
of Ruins.--Remarkable Stones.--A long Edifice.--Hacienda of
Tankuche.--More Ruins.--A plastered Wall covered with
Paintings.--Annoyance from Garrapatas.--Return to the
Village.--Ball.--Fireworks.--Condition of the Indians.
CHAPTER X.
Sunday.--Mass.--A grand Procession.--Intoxicated Indians.--Set out for
Maxcanu.--A Caricoche.--Scenery.--Arrival at Maxcanu.--Cave of
Maxcanu.--Threading a Labyrinth.--An Alarm.--An abrupt
Termination.--Important Discovery.--Labyrinth not subterraneous.--More
Mounds.--Journey continued.--Grand View.--Another Mound.--An
Accident.--Village of Opocheque.--View from the Sierra.--More
Ruins.--Return to Uxmal.--Change of Quarters.--An Addition to the
Household.--Beautiful Scene.
CHAPTER XI.
Superintending Indians.--The Storm El Norte.--Arrival of Don
Simon.--Subterraneous Chambers.---Discovery of broken Pottery and a
Terra Cotta Vase.--Great Number of these Chambers.--Their probable
Uses.--Harvest of the Maise Crop.--Practical Views.--System of
Agriculture in Yucatan.--Planting of Corn.--A primitive Threshing
Machine.--News from Home.--More Practice in Surgery.--A rude
Bedstead.--A Leg Patient.--An Arm Patient.--Increasing Sickness on the
Hacienda.--Death of an Indian Woman.--A Campo Santo.--Digging a
Grave.--An Indian Funeral.
CHAPTER XII.
Means by which the City was supplied with Water.--Aguadas.--A
delightful Bathing-place.--Manner of Living at the Ruins--How to roast
a Pig.--Nameless Mound.--Excavations made in it.--Great Exertions.--A
bitter Disappointment.--An Attack of Fever.--Visit from the Cura of
Ticul.--Departure for Ticul.--A painful Journey.--Arrival at the
Convent.--Arrival of Dr. Cabot, ill with Fever.--Gloomy Prospects.--A
simple Remedy for Fever.--Aspect of Ticul.--The Church.--Funeral
Urn.--Monument and Inscription.--Convent.--Character of the Cura
Carillo.--The Date of the Construction of the Convent
unknown.--Probably built with the Materials furnished by the Ruins of
former Cities.--Archives of the Convent.
CHAPTER XIII.
Another ruined City.--Relics.--Ruins of San Francisco.--Proved to be
those of the Aboriginal City of the name Ticul.--A beautiful
Vase.--Search for a Sepulchre.--Discovery of a Skeleton and Vase.--An
Indian Needle.--These Cities not built by Descendants of
Egyptians.--Their Antiquity not very great.--Examination of the
Skeleton by Doctor Morton, and his Opinion.--Mummies from Peru.--These
Cities built by the Ancestors of the present Race of Indians.--The
Seybo Tree.--The Campo Santo.--A quiet Village.
CHAPTER XIV.
Departure from Ticul.--The Sierra.--Nohcacab.--Ruins of Nohpat.--Return
to Uxmal.--The Campo Santo.--Work of Mr. Waldeck.--General Description
of the Ruins.--Two ruined Edifices.--Great Stone Rings.--House
of the Nuns.--Dimensions, &c.---Courtyard.--Facades.--A lofty
Edifice.--Complicated Ornament.--Painted Facades.--Sculptured
Doorways.--House of the Birds.--Remains of Painting.--An Arch.--House
of the Dwarf.--Building loaded with Ornaments.--Long and narrow
Structure.--Tasteful Arrangement of Ornaments.--Human
Sacrifices.--House of the Pigeons.--Range of Terraces called the Campo
Santo.---House of the Old Woman.--Circular Mound of Ruins.--Wall of the
City.--Close of Description.--Title Papers of Uxmal.--Of the Antiquity
of Uxmal.
CHAPTER XV.
Attacks from Fever and Ague.--Final Departure from Uxmal.--Newyear's
Day.--Fate of Chaipa Chi.--Painful Journey.--Chetulish.--Arrival at
Nohcacab.--Concourse of Indians.--A Casa
Real.--Plaza.--Improvements.--The Church.--A Noria, or Well.--Municipal
Elections.--The Democratic Principle.--Installation of
Alcaldes.--Illness of the Cura of Ticul.--Set out for
Ticul--Intoxicated Carriers.--Accident.--Arrival at Ticul.--A wandering
Physician.--Changed Appearance of the Cura.--Return to Nohcacab.--Take
up Quarters in the Convent.--Ancient Town of Nohcacab.--Ruined
Mounds.--Ruins of Xcoch.--A Mysterious Well.--Fine Grove.--Circular
Cavity.--Mouth of the Well.--Exploration of its Passages.--Uses of
the Well.--Return to the Village.--Fatal Accident.--A House of
Mourning.--Ceremony of El Velorio.
CHAPTER XVI.
Ruins of Nohpat.--A lofty Mound.--Grand View.--Sculptured Human
Figure.--Terraces.--Huge sculptured Figure.--Other Figures.--Skull
and Cross-bones.--Situation of Ruins.--Journey to Kabah.--Thatched
Huts.--Arrival at the Ruins.--Return to the Village.--Astonishment
of the Indians.--Valuable Servant--Festival of Corpus Alma.--A
plurality of Saints.--How to put a Saint under Patronage.--A
Procession.--Fireworks.--A Ball.---Excess of Female Population.--A
Dance.
CHAPTER XVII.
Ruins of Kabah.--General Description.--Plan of the Ruins.--Great
Teocalis.--Ruined Apartments.--Grand View.--Terrace and
Building.--Ranges of Buildings.--Hieroglyphics.--A rich
Facade.--Wooden Lintels.--Singular Structures.--Apartments,
&c.--Rankness of Tropical Vegetation.--Edifice called the
Cocina.--Majestic pile of Buildings.--Apartments, &c.--A solitary
Arch.--A Succession of ruined Buildings.--Apartments, &c.--Prints of
the Red Hand.--Sculptured Lintel.--Instruments used by the Aboriginals
for Carving Wood.--Ruined Structure.--Ornament in Stucco.--Great ruined
Building.--Curious Chamber, &c.--Sculptured Jambs.--Another Witness for
these ruined Cities.--Last Visit to Kabah.--Its recent Discovery.--A
great Charnel House.--Funeral Procession.--A Ball by Daylight.--The
Procession of the Candles.--Closing Scene.
ENGRAVINGS. VOL. I.
1. Frontispiece.
2. A ruined Mound.
3. Sculptured Figures.
4. Circular Edifice.
5. Hacienda of Xcanchakan.
6. Gateway at Mucuyche.
7. A Senote.
8. Plan of Uxmal.
9. Ornament over a Doorway.
10. Ornament called the Elephant's Trunk.
11. Elephant's Trunk in Profile.
12. Southern End of Casa del Gobernador.
13. Ground Plan of Casa del Gobernador.
14. Double-headed Lynx.
15. House of the Turtles.
16. Aguada at Uxmal.
17. Ticul Vase.
18. Seybo Tree.
19. Plan of the Monjas.
20. Part of the Facade of the Monjas.
21. Entwined Serpents over a Doorway.
22. View from the Nuns.
23. East Side of the Courtyard of the Monjas.
24. Southeast Corner of the Monjas.
25. Interior of an Apartment.
26. House of the Birds.
27. West Front of the House of the Dwarf.
28. East Front of the House of the Dwarf.
29. Front of the Casa de Palamos.
30. A Noria, or Well.
31. Mound at Xcoch.
32. Mound at Nohpat.
33. Colossal Stone Figure.
34. Sculptured Stone Figure.
35. Skull and Crossbones.
36. Street in the Village of Nohcacab.
37. Plan of Kabah.
38. Building (Casa No. 1).
39. Portion of a richly-sculptured Facade.
40. Interior of an Apartment.
41. Rankness of Tropical Vegetation.
42. Building (Casa No. 2).
43. Building (Casa No. 3).
44. Triumphal Arch.
45. Carved Wooden Beam.
46. Stucco Ornament.
47. Sculptured Stone Jamb.
48. Sculptured Stone Jamb.
49. Charnel House and Convent.
50. Skull.
51. Triangular Arch.
52. Gothic Arch.
53. Cyclopean Arch.
54. Arch used by the ancient American Builders.
MAP OF YUCATAN
INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL
IN
YUCATAN.
CHAPTER I.
Embarcation.--Fellow-passengers.--A Gale at Sea.--Arrival at
Sisal.--Ornithological Specimens.--Merida.--Fete of San Cristoval.--The
Lottery.--A Scene of Confusion.--Principle of the Game.--Passion for
Gambling.--A deformed Indian.
The reader of my "Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas, and
Yucatan," may remember that the researches of Mr. Catherwood and myself
in the last-mentioned country were abruptly terminated by the illness
of the former. During our short sojourn in Yucatan, we received vague,
but, at the same time, reliable intelligence of the existence of
numerous and extensive cities, desolate and in ruins which induced us
to believe that the country presented a greater field for antiquarian
research and discoveries than any we had yet visited. Under these
circumstances, it was a severe hardship that we were compelled to leave
it, and our only consolation in doing so was the hope of being able to
return, prepared to make a thorough exploration of this unknown and
mysterious region. In about a year we found ourselves in a condition to
do so; and on Monday, the ninth of October, we put to sea on board the
bark Tennessee, Scholefield master, for Sisal, the port from which we
had sailed on our return to the United States.
The Tennessee was a down-Easter of two hundred and sixty tons burden,
turned out apparently from one of those great factories where ships are
built by the mile and chopped off to order, but stout, strong, well
manned and equipped.
Her cargo was assorted for the Yucatan market, and consisted of a heavy
stratum of iron at the bottom; midway were miscellanies, among which
were cotton, muskets, and two hundred barrels of turpentine; and on
top, within reach of the hatches, were six hundred kegs of gunpowder.
We had a valuable addition to our party in Dr. Cabot, of Boston, who
accompanied us as an amateur, particularly as an ornithologist. Besides
him, our only fellow-passenger was Mr. Camerden, who went out as
supercargo.
The first morning out we woke with an extraordinary odour of
turpentine, giving us apprehensions that a barrel had sprung a leak,
which, by means of the cotton, might use up our gunpowder before it
came to the hands of its consignee. This odour, however, was traced to
a marking-pot, which quieted our apprehensions.
On the evening of the fourth day we had a severe thunder-storm. This
was an old acquaintance of ours in the tropics, but one which at that
time we were not disposed to welcome very cordially. Peals of thunder
broke and crashed close over our heads, lightning flashed across the
dark vault of the heavens, lighting up the surface of the water, and
making fearfully visible our little vessel, tossing and pitching, a
mere speck in immensity; and at times an angry ray darted toward the
horizon, as if expressly to ignite our gunpowder. We discussed, though
rather disjointedly, the doctrine of conductors and non-conductors, and
advised the captain to put a few links of a chain cable round the
mainmast, and carry the end of it over the side. We had some
consolation in thinking that six hundred kegs were no worse than sixty,
and that six would do our business; but, in fact, at the moment, we
were very much of opinion that lightning and gunpowder were the only
dangers of the sea. The night, however, wore through, and morning
brought with it the usual, and, unhappily, almost the only change in
those who go down to the sea in ships--forgetfulness of past danger.
On the evening of the seventeenth we passed, with a gentle breeze, the
narrow passage known as the Hole in the Wall, and before morning we
were lying broadside to the wind, and almost flying before it. The gale
was terrific; nothing could stand upright to windward, and the sea was
portentous. The captain sat under the quarter rail, watching the
compass, and turning anxiously to the misty quarter of the heavens from
which the winds seemed let loose. At breakfast large drops of sweat
stood on his forehead; and though at first unwilling to admit it even
to himself, we discovered that we were really in danger. We were
driving, as fast as the wind could send us, upon the range of sunken
rocks known as Abaco reef. Directly under our lee was the worst part of
the whole reef, marked on the chart "Dangerous rocky shore." Unless the
gale abated or the wind hauled, in eight or ten hours we must strike. I
must confess I saw but little hope of a change, and this rocky reef was
but a few feet under water, and twenty miles distant from terra firma.
If the vessel struck, she must go to pieces; nothing made by man's
hands could stand against the fury of the sea, and every moment we were
nearer destruction. We sat with the chart before us, looking at it as a
sentenced convict might look at an advertisement of the time fixed for
his execution. The sunken rocks seemed to stand out horribly on the
paper; and though every glance at the sea told us that with daylight no
human strength could prevail against it, it added to our uncomfortable
feelings to know that it would be nearly night when the crisis arrived.
We had but one consolation--there were no women or children on board.
All were able-bodied men, capable of doing all that men could do in a
struggle for life. But, fortunately for the reader of these pages, to
say nothing of the relief to ourselves, at one o'clock the wind veered;
we got on a little canvass; the good ship struggled for her life; by
degrees she turned her back upon danger, and at night we were again on
our way rejoicing.
On the twenty-seventh we furled sails off the port of Sisal. Five
vessels were at anchor, an extraordinary circumstance for Sisal, and
fortunate for us, because otherwise, as our captain had never been
there before, though carefully looking for it, we might not have been
able to find it. Our anchorage ground was on the open coast, two or
three miles from land, at which distance it was necessary to keep, lest
we should be driven ashore in case of a norther. Captain Scholefield,
in fact, before he had discharged his cargo, was obliged to slip his
cables and put to sea, and did not get back to his anchorage ground in
nine days.
It was only four o'clock in the afternoon, but, by the regulations of
the port, no passenger could land until the vessel had been visited by
the health and custom-house officers. We looked out till dark, and long
after the moon rose, but no notice whatever was taken of us, and, with
no very amiable feelings toward the lazy officials, we turned in again
on board.
In the morning, when we went on deck, we saw anchored under our stern
the brig Lucinda, in which we had thought of taking passage; she had
sailed from New-York four days after we did, and arrived during the
night.
Very soon we saw coming off toward us the separate canoes of the health
and custom-house officers. We were boarded by a very little man with a
very big mustache, who was seasick before he mounted the deck, and in a
few minutes betook himself to a berth. The preliminaries, however, were
soon settled, and we went ashore. All disposition we might have had to
complain the night before ceased on landing. Our former visit was not
forgotten. The account of it had been translated and published, and, as
soon as the object of our return was known, every facility was given
us, and all our trunks, boxes, and multifarious luggage were passed
without examination by the custom-house officers.
The little town of Sisal had not increased either in houses or
inhabitants, and did not present any additional inducements to remain
in it. The same afternoon we sent off our luggage in a carreta for
Merida, and the next morning started in calezas ourselves.
From the suburbs of the town the plain was inundated, and for more than
a mile our horses were above their knees in water. When we passed
before, this ground was dry, parched, and cracking open. It was now the
last of the rainy season, and the great body of water, without any
stream by which to pass off, was drying up under a scorching sun, to
leave the earth infected with malaria.
We had arrived in the fulness of tropical vegetation; the stunted trees
along the road were in their deepest green, and Dr. Cabot opened to us
a new source of interest and beauty. In order to begin business at
once, he rode in the first caleza alone, and before he had gone far, we
saw the barrel of his gun protrude on one side, and a bird fall. He had
seen at Sisal, egretes, pelicans, and ducks which were rare in
collections at home, and an oscillated wild turkey, which alone he
thought worth the voyage to that place; and now, our attention being
particularly directed to the subject, in some places the shrubs and
bushes seemed brilliant with the plumage and vocal with the notes of
birds. On the road he saw four different species which are entirely
unknown in the United States, and six others which are found only in
Louisiana and Florida, of most of which he procured specimens.
We stopped at Huncuma during the heat of the day; at dark reached
Merida, and once more rode up to the house of Dona Micaela. Coming
directly from home, we were not so much excited as when we reached it
after a toilsome and comfortless journey in Central America; but even
now it would ill become me to depreciate it, for the donna had read the
account of my former visit to Merida, and she said, with an emphasis
that covered all the rest, that the dates of arrival and departure as
therein mentioned corresponded exactly with the entries in her book.
We had arrived at Merida at an opportune moment. As on the occasion of
our first visit, it was again a season of fiesta. The fete of San
Cristoval, an observance of nine days, was then drawing to its close,
and that evening a grand _function_ was to be performed in the church
dedicated to that saint. We had no time to lose, and, after a hasty
supper, under the guidance of an Indian lad belonging to the house, we
set out for the church. Very soon we were in the main street leading to
it, along which, as it seemed, the whole population of Merida was
moving to the fete. In every house a lantern hung from the balconied
windows, or a long candle stood under a glass shade, to light them on
their way. At the head of the street was a large plaza, on one side of
which stood the church, with its great front brilliantly illuminated,
and on the platform and steps, and all the open square before it, was a
great moving mass of men, women, and children, mostly Indians, dressed
in white.
We worked our way up to the door, and found the church within a blaze
of light. Two rows of high candlesticks, with wax candles eight or ten
feet high, extended the whole length from the door to the altar. On
each side hung innumerable lamps, dotting the whole space from the
floor to the ceiling; and back at the extreme end, standing on an
elevated platform, was an altar thirty feet high, rich with silver
ornaments and vases of flowers, and hung with innumerable lamps
brilliantly burning. Priests in glittering vestments were officiating
before it, music was swelling through the corridor and arches, and the
floor of the immense church was covered with women on their knees,
dressed in white, with white shawls over their heads. Through the
entire body of the church not a man was to be seen. Near us was a bevy
of young girls, beautifully dressed with dark eyes, and their hair
adorned with flowers, sustaining, though I was now a year older and
colder, my previous impressions of the beauty of the ladies of Merida.
The chant died sway, and as the women rose from their knees, their
appearance was like the lifting of a white cloud, or spirits of air
rising to a purer world; but, as they turned toward the door, the
horizon became dusky with Indian faces, and half way up a spot rose
above the rest, black as a thunder-cloud. The whole front ranks were
Indians, except a towering African, whose face, in the cloud of white
around, shone like the last touch of Day and Martin's best.
We waited till the last passed out, and, leaving the empty church
blazing with light, with rockets fireworks, drums, and violins all
working away together on the steps, we followed the crowd.
Turning along the left side of the plaza, we entered an illuminated
street, at the foot of which, and across it, hung a gigantic cross,
also brilliantly illuminated, and apparently stopping the way. Coming
as we did directly from the church, it seemed to have some immediate
connexion with the ceremonies we had just beheld; but the crowd stopped
short of the cross, opposite a large house, also brilliantly
illuminated. The door of this house, like that of the church, was open
to all who chose to enter, or rather, at that moment, to all who could
force their way through. Waiting the motion of the mass before us, and
pressed by those behind, slowly, and with great labour, we worked our
way into the sala. This was a large room extending along the whole
front of the house, hot to suffocation, and crowded, or rather jammed,
with men and women, or gentlemen and ladies, or by whatever other names
they may be pleased to be called, clamorous and noisy as Bedlam let
loose. For some time it was impossible for us to form any idea of what
was going on. By degrees we were carried lengthwise through the sala,
at every step getting elbowed, stamped upon, and occasionally the rim
of a straw hat across the nose, or the puff of a paper cigar in the
eyes. Very soon our faces were trickling with tears, which there was no
friendly hand to wipe away, our own being pinned down to our sides.
On each side of the sala was a rude table, occupying its whole length,
made of two rough boards, and supporting candles stuck in little tin
receivers, about two feet apart. Along the tables were benches of the
same rough materials, with men and women, whites, Mestizoes, and
Indians, all sitting together, as close as the solidity and resistance
of human flesh would permit, and seemingly closer than was sufferable.
Every person at the table had before him or her a paper about a foot
square, covered with figures in rows, and a small pile of grains of
corn, and by its side a thumping stick some eighteen inches long, and
one in diameter; while, amid all the noise, hubbub, and confusion, the
eyes of all at the tables were bent constantly upon the papers before
them. In that hot place, they seemed like a host of necromancers and
witches, some of the latter young and extremely pretty, practising the
black art.
By degrees we were passed out into the corridor, and here we were
brought to a dead stand. Within arm's length was an imp of a boy,
apparently the ringleader in this nocturnal orgy, who stood on a
platform, rattling a bag of balls, and whose unintermitted screeching,
singsong cries had throughout risen shrill and distinct above every
other sound. At that moment the noise and uproar were carried to the
highest The whole house seemed rising against the boy, and he,
single-handed, or rather single-tongued, was doing battle with the
whole, sending forth a clear stream of vocal power, which for a while
bore its way triumphantly through the whole troubled waters, till,
finding himself overpowered by the immense majority, with a tone that
set the whole mass in a roar, and showed his democratic principles, he
cried out, "Vox populi est vox Dei!" and submitted.
Along the corridor, and in the whole area of the patio, or courtyard,
were tables, and benches, and papers, and grains of corn, and ponderous
sticks, the same as in the sala, and men and women sitting as close
together. The passages were choked up, and over the heads of those
sitting at the tables, all within reach were bending their eyes
earnestly upon the mysterious papers. They were grayheads, boys and
girls, and little children; fathers and mothers; husbands and wives;
masters and servants; men high in office, muleteers, and bull-fighters;
senoras and senoritas, with jewels around their necks and roses in
their hair, and Indian women, worth only the slight covering they had
on; beauty and deformity; the best and the vilest in Merida; perhaps,
in all, two thousand persons; and this great multitude, many of whom we
had seen but a few minutes before on their knees in the church, and
among them the fair bevy of girls who had stood by us on the steps,
were now assembled in a public gambling-house! a beautiful spectacle
for a stranger the first night of his arrival in the capital!
But the devil is not so black as he is painted. I do not mean to offer
any apology for gambling, in Yucatan, as in all the rest of Mexico, the
bane and scourge of all ranks of society; but Merida is, in a small
way, a city of my love, and I would fain raise this great mass of
people from the gulf into which I have just plunged them: at least, I
would lift their heads a little above water.
The game which they were engaged in playing is called La Loteria, or
the Lottery. It is a favourite amusement throughout all the Mexican
provinces, and extends to every village in Yucatan. It is authorized by
the government, and, as was formerly the case to a pernicious extent
with the lotteries in our own country, is used as an instrument to
raise money, either for the use of the government itself, or for other
purposes which are considered deserving. The principle of the game, or
the scheme, consists of different combinations of numbers, from one to
ninety, which are written on papers, nine rows on each side, with five
figures in each row. As ninety figures admit of combinations to an
almost indefinite extent, any number of papers can be issued, each
containing a different series of combinations. These papers are stamped
by the government, and sold at a real, or twelve and a half cents each.
Every player purchases one of these papers, and fastens it to the table
before him with a wafer. A purse is then made up, each player putting
in a certain sum, which is collected by a boy in a hat. The boy with
the bag of balls then announces, or rather sings out, the amount of the
purse, and rattling his bag of balls, draws out one, and sings the
number drawn. Every player marks on his paper with a grain of corn the
number called off, and the one who is first able to mark five numbers
in a row wins the purse. This he announces by rapping on the table with
the stick, and standing up in his place. The boy sings over again the
numbers drawn, and if, on comparison, all is found right, delivers the
purse. The game is then ended, and another begins. Sometimes mistakes
occur, and it was a mistake that led to the extraordinary clamour and
confusion we had found on reaching the neighbourhood of the boy.
The amount played for will give some idea of the character of the game.
Before commencing, the boy called out that the stake should in no case
exceed two reals. This, however, was considered too high, and it was
fixed by general consent at a medio, or six and a quarter cents. The
largest amount proclaimed by the boy was twenty-seven dollars and three
reals, which, divided among four hundred and thirty-eight players, did
not make very heavy gambling. In fact, an old gentleman near whom I was
standing told me it was a small affair, and not worth learning; but he
added that there was a place in the neighbourhood where they played
monte for doubloons. The whole amount circulated during the evening
fell far short of what is often exchanged at a small party in a private
drawing-room at home, and among those who would not relish the
imputation of being accounted gamblers. In fact, it is perhaps but just
to say that this great concourse of people was not brought together by
the spirit of gambling. The people of Merida are fond of amusements,
and in the absence of theatres and other public entertainments, the
loteria is a great gathering-place, where persons of all ages and
classes go to meet acquaintances. Rich and poor, great and small, meet
under the same roof on a footing of perfect equality; good feeling is
cultivated among all without any forgetting their place. Whole families
go thither together; young people procure seats near each other, and
play at more desperate games than the loteria, where hearts, or at
least hands, are at stake, and perhaps that night some bold player, in
losing his medios, drew a richer prize than the large purse of
twenty-seven dollars and three reals. In fact, the loteria is
considered merely an accessory to the pleasures of social intercourse;
and, instead of gaming, it might be called a grand _conversacione_, but
not very select; at least such was our conclusion; and there was
something to make us rather uncharitable, for the place was hot enough
to justify an application to it of the name bestowed in common parlance
on the gambling-houses of London and Paris.
At about eleven o'clock we left. On our way down the street we passed
the open door of a house in which were tables piled with gold and
silver, and men around playing what, in the opinion of my old adviser
of the loteria, was a game worth learning. We returned to the house,
and found, what in our haste to be at the fiesta we had paid no
attention to, that Dona Micaela could give us but one room, and that a
small one, and near the door. As we expected to remain some days in
Merida, we determined the next morning to take a house and go to
housekeeping. While arranging ourselves for the night, we heard a loud,
unnatural noise at the door, and, going out, found rolling over the
pavement the Cerberus of the mansion, an old Indian miserably deformed,
with his legs drawn up, his back down, his neck and head thrust
forward, and his eyes starting from their sockets; he was entertaining
himself with an outrageous soliloquy in the Maya tongue, and at our
appearance he pitched his voice higher than before. Signs and threats
had no effect. Secure in his deformity, he seemed to feel a malicious
pleasure that he had it in his power to annoy us. We gave up, and while
he continued rolling out tremendous Maya, we fell asleep. So passed our
first night in Merida.
CHAPTER II.
Housekeeping.--Description of a Bull-ring.--A
Bull-fight.--Spectators.--Brutal Torments inflicted on the
Bulls.--Serious Accidents.--A noble Beast.--An exciting Scene.--Victims
to Bull-fighting.--Danger and Ferocity of Bull-fights.--Effects
on moral Character.--Grand Mass.--A grand Procession.--The
Alameda.--Calezas.--A Concert, and its Arrangements.--Fete of Todos
Santos.--A singular Custom.--An Incident.
Early the next morning the carreta arrived with our luggage, and, to
avoid the trouble of loading and unloading, we directed it to remain at
the door, and set out immediately to look for a house. We had not much
time, and, consequently, but little choice; but, with the help of Dona
Micaela, in half an hour we found one that answered our purpose. We
returned and started the carreta; an Indian followed, carrying on his
head a table, and on the top of it a washhand-basin; another with three
chairs, all Dona Micaela's, and we closed the procession.
Our house was in the street of the Flamingo. Like most of the houses in
Merida, it was built of stone, and had one story; the front was about
thirty feet and had a sala covering the whole, about twenty feet in
depth. The ceiling was perhaps eighteen feet high, and the walls had
wooden knobs for fastening hammocks. Behind the sala was a broad
corridor, opening on a courtyard, at one side of which was a
sleeping-room, and at the back of that a comeder or eating-room. The
floors were all of hard cement. The courtyard was about thirty feet
square, with high stone walls, and a well in the centre. Next, running
across the lot, was a kitchen, with a sleeping-room for servants, and
back of that another courtyard, forty feet deep, with stone walls
fifteen feet high; and in order that my inquiring fellow-citizens may
form some idea of the comparative value of real estate in Merida and
New-York, I mention that the rent was four dollars per month, which for
three persons we did not consider extravagant. We had our own
travelling beds, the table, washhand-basin, and chairs set up, and
before breakfast our house was furnished.
In the mean time the fiesta of San Cristoval was going on. Grand mass
was over, and the next ceremony in order was a _corrida de toros_ or
bull-fight, to commence at ten o'clock.
The Plaza de Toros, or, in English, the bull-ring, was in the square of
the church of San Cristoval. The enclosure or place for spectators
occupied nearly the whole of the square, a strange and very original
structure, which in its principles would astonish a European architect.
It was a gigantic circular scaffold, perhaps fifteen hundred feet in
circumference, capable of containing four or five thousand persons,
erected and held together without the use of a single nail, being made
of rude poles, just as they were cut in the woods, and tied together
with withes. The interior was enclosed by long poles, crossing and
interlacing each other, leaving only an opening for the door, and was
divided in like manner by poles into boxes. The whole formed a gigantic
frame of rustic lattice-work, admirably adapted for that hot climate,
as it admitted a free circulation of air. The top was covered with an
arbour made of the leaves of the American palm. The whole structure was
simple and curious. Every Indian could assist in building it, and when
the fiesta was over it could be torn down, and the materials used for
firewood.
The corrida had begun when we arrived on the ground, and the place was
already thronged. There was a great choice of seats, as one side was
exposed to the full blaze of the sun. Over the doors were written Palco
No. 1, Palco No. 2, &c., and each box had a separate proprietor, who
stood in the doorway, with a little rickety step-ladder of three or
four steps, inviting customers. One of them undertook to provide for
us, and for two reals apiece we were conducted to front seats. It was,
if possible, hotter than at the loteria, and in the movement and
confusion of passing us to our seats, the great scaffold trembled, and
seemed actually swaying to and fro under its living load.
The spectators were of all classes, colours, and ages, from gray heads
to children asleep in their mother's arms; and next to me was a
half-blooded maternal head of a family, with the key of her house in
her hand, her children tacked in between the legs of her neighbours, or
under their chairs. At the feet of those sitting on the front seats was
a row of boys and girls, with their little heads poked through the
railing; and all around hung down a variegated fringe-work of black and
white legs. Opposite, and on the top of the scaffold, was a band of
music, the leader of which wore a shining black mask, caricaturing a
negro.
A bull was in the ring, two barbed darts trimmed with blue and yellow
paper were hanging from his flanks, and his neck was pierced with
wounds, from which ran down streams of blood. The picadores stood aloof
with bloody spears in their hands; a mounted dragoon was master of
ceremonies, and there were, besides, eight or ten vaqueros, or
cattle-tenders, from the neighbouring haciendas, hard riders, and
brought up to deal with cattle that run wild in the woods. These were
dressed in pink-coloured shirt and trousers, and wore small hats of
straw platted thick, with low round crowns, and narrow brims turned up
at the side. Their saddles had large leathern flaps, covering half the
body of the horse, and each had a lazo, or coil of rope, in his hand,
and a pair of enormous iron spurs, perhaps six inches long, and
weighing two or three pounds, which, contrasted with their small
horses, gave a sort of Bombastes Furioso character to their appearance.
By the order of the dragoon, these vaqueros, striking their coils of
rope against the large flaps of their saddles, started the bull, and,
chasing him round the ring, with a few throws of the lazo caught him by
the horns and dragged him to a post at one side of the ring, where,
riding off with the rope, they hauled his head down to the ground close
against the post. Keeping it down in that position, some of the others
passed a rope twice round his body just behind the fore legs, and,
securing it on the back, passed it under his tail, and returning it,
crossed it with the coils around his body. Two or three men on each
side then hauled upon the rope, which cut into and compressed the
bull's chest, and by its tightness under the tail almost lifted his
hind legs from off the ground. This was to excite and madden him. The
poor animal bellowed, threw himself on the ground, and kicked and
struggled to get rid of the brutal tie. From the place where we sat we
had in full view the front of the church of San Cristoval, and over the
door we read in large characters, "_Hic est domus Dei, hic est porta
c[oe]li_" "Here is the house of God, here is the gate of heaven."
But they had yet another goad for the bull. Watching narrowly that the
ropes around his horns did not get loose, they fixed upon his back the
figure of a soldier in a cocked hat, seated in a saddle. This excited a
great laugh among the spectators. We learned that both the saddle and
the figure of the soldier were made of wood, paper, and gunpowder,
composing a formidable piece of fireworks. When this was fairly
secured, all fell back, and the picadores, mounted, and with their
spears poised, took their places in the ring. The band, perhaps in
compliment to us, and to remind us of home, struck up the beautiful
_national_ melody of "Jim Crow." A villanous-looking fellow set off
large and furiously-whizzing rockets within a few feet of the bull;
another fired in the heel the figure of the soldier on his back; the
spectators shouted, the rope was slipped, and the bull let loose.
His first dash was perfectly furious. Bounding forward and throwing up
his hind legs, maddened by the shouts of the crowd, and the whizzing
and explosion, fire and smoke of the engine of torture on his back, he
dashed blindly at every picador, receiving thrust after thrust with the
spear, until, amid the loud laughter and shouts of the spectators, the
powder burned out, and the poor beast, with gaping wounds, and blood
streaming from them, turned and ran, bellowed for escape at the gate of
entrance, and then crawled around the wall of the ring, looking up to
the spectators, and with imploring eyes seemed pleading to the mild
faces of the women for mercy.
In a few minutes he was lazoed and dragged off, and he had hardly
disappeared when another was led in, the manner of whose introduction
seemed more barbarous and brutal than any of the torments inflicted on
the former. It was by a rope two or three hundred feet long, passed
through the fleshy part of the bull's nose, and secured at both ends to
the vaquero's saddle. In this way he was hauled through the streets and
into the ring. Another vaquero followed, with a lazo over the horns, to
hold the bull back, and keep him from rushing upon his leader. In the
centre of the ring the leader loosed one end of the rope, and, riding
on, dragged it trailing on the ground its whole length, perhaps a
hundred yards, through the bull's nose, leaving a crust of dirt on one
side as it came out bloody on the other. The bull, held back by the
rope over his horns, stood with his neck outstretched; and when the end
of the rope passed through, he licked his gory nose, pawed the ground,
and bellowed.
He was then lazoed, dragged up to the post, girt with the rope around
his body like the other, and then, amid bursts of music, rockets, and
shouts, again let loose. The chulos went at him, flaring before him
with the left hand red and yellow ponchas, and holding in the right
darts containing fireworks, and ornamented with yellow paper cut into
slips. These they thrust into his neck and flanks. The current of air
accelerated the ignition of the fire; and when the fireworks exploded,
the paper still rattled about his ears. The picadores then mounted
their horses; but, after a few thrusts of the spear, the bull flinched,
and the spectators, indignant that he did not show more fight, cried
out, "_Saca esa vaca!_" "Take out that _cow_!"
The next was hauled on in the same way by a rope through his nose. He
was girt with the rope, tortured with darts, speared by the picadores
on horseback, and, as he did not show good fight, they dismounted and
attacked him on foot. This is considered the most dangerous contest
both for man and beast. The picadores formed in front of him, each with
a black or yellow poncha in his left hand, and poising his spear with
the right. They stood with their legs extended and knees bent, so as to
keep a firm foothold, changing position by a spring forward or
backward, on one side or the other, to meet the movement of the bull's
head. The object was to strike between the horns into the back of the
neck. Two or three struck him fairly with a cutting, heavy sound, and
drew out their spears reeking with blood. One man misdirected his blow;
the bull threw up his neck with the long handle of the spear standing
upright in it, and rushing upon the picador, hurled him to the ground,
and passed over his body, seeming to strike him with all four of his
hoofs. The man never moved, but lay on his back, with his arms
outstretched, apparently dead. The bull moved on with the handle of the
spear still standing up in his neck, a terror to all in the ring. The
vaqueros went in pursuit of him with the lazos, and, chasing him round,
the spear fell out, and they caught him. In the mean time, the fallen
man was picked up by some of his companions, and carried off, doubled
up, and apparently cured forever of bull-fighting. We heard afterward
that he only had some of his ribs broken.
He was hardly out of sight when the accident was forgotten; the bull
was again assaulted, worried out, and dragged off. Others followed,
making eight in all. At twelve o'clock the church bells rang and the
fight ended, but, as we were dispersing, we were reminded that another
would begin at four o'clock in the afternoon.
At four we were again in our places. Our special reason for following
up this sport so closely was because we were advised that in the
morning common people only attended, but that in the afternoon all the
_gente decente_, or upper classes, of Merida would be present. I am
happy to say, however, that this was not true, and the only sensible
difference that we noticed was, that it was more crowded and hotter,
and that the price of admission was double.
This was the last corrida of the fiesta, and some of the best bulls had
been kept in reserve. The first that was dragged on was received with
acclamations, as having distinguished himself before during the fiesta;
but he bore an ugly mark for a favourite of the people, having been
dragged by the nose till the cartilage was completely torn out by the
rope.
The next would have been worthy of the best bull-fights of Old Spain,
when the cavalier, at the glance of his lady's eye, leaped into the
ring to play the matador with his sword. He was a large black bull,
without any particular marks of ferocity about him; but a man who sat
in our box, and for whose judgment I had conceived a great respect,
lighted a new straw cigar, and pronounced him "_muy bravo_." There was
no bellowing, blustering, or bravado about him, but he showed a
calmness and self-possession which indicated a consciousness of
strength. The picadores attacked him on horseback, and, like the Noir
Faineant, or Sluggish Knight, in the lists at Ashby, for a time he
contented himself with merely repelling the attacks of his assailants;
but suddenly, as if a little vexed, he laid his head low, looked up at
the spears pointed at his neck, and, shutting his eyes, rushed upon a
picador on one side, struck his horse in the belly with his horns,
lifted him off his feet, and brought horse and rider headlong to the
ground. The horse fell upon the rider, rolled completely over him, with
his heels in the air, and rose with one of the rider's feet entangled
in the stirrup. For an instant he stood like a breathing statue, with
nostrils wide and ears thrown back, wild with fright; and then,
catching sight of the bull, he sprang clear of the ground, and dashed
off at full speed around the ring, dragging after him the luckless
picador. Around he went, senseless and helpless, his whole body grimed
with dirt, and with no more life in it, apparently, than in a mere log
of wood. At every bound it seemed as if the horse must strike his hind
hoofs into his forehead. A cold shudder ran through the spectators. The
man was a favourite; he had friends and relatives present, and
everybody knew his name. A deep murmur of "_El Pobre_" burst from every
bosom. I felt actually lifted from my seat, and the president of the
Life and Trust would not have given a policy upon him for any premium.
The picadores looked on aghast; the bull was roaming loose in the ring,
perhaps the only indifferent spectator. My own feelings were roused
against his companions, who, after what seemed an age of the rack,
keeping a special good lookout upon the bull, at length started in
pursuit with lazos, caught the horse around the neck, and brought him
up headlong. The picadores extricated their fallen companion, and
carried him out. His face was so begrimed with dirt that not a feature
was visible; but, as he was borne across the ring, he opened his eyes,
and they seemed starting from his head with terror.
He was hardly out of the ring when a hoarse cry ran through the
spectators, "_a pie! a pie!_" "on foot! on foot!" The picadores
dismounted and attacked the bull fiercely on foot, flourishing their
ponchas. Almost at the first thrust he rushed upon one of his
adversaries, tumbled him down, passed over his body, and walked on
without even turning round to look at him. He too was picked up and
carried off.
The attack was renewed, and the bull became roused. In a few moments he
brought another picador to the ground, and, carried on by his own
impetus, passed over the body, but, with a violent effort, recovered
himself, and turned short round upon his prostrate prey, glared over
him for a moment with a low bellow, almost a howl, and, raising his
fore feet a little from the ground, so as to give full force to the
blow, thrust both horns into the stomach of the fallen picador.
Happily, the points were sawed off; and, furious at not being able to
gore and toss him, he got one horn under the picador's sash, lifted
him, and dashed him back violently upon the ground. Accustomed as the
spectators were to scenes of this kind, there was a universal burst of
horror. Not a man moved to save him. It would, perhaps, be unjust to
brand them as cowards, for, brutal and degrading as their tie was, they
doubtless had a feeling of companionship; but, at all events, not a man
attempted to save him, and the bull, after glaring over him, smelling
and pawing him for a moment, to all a moment of intense excitement,
turned away and left him.
This man, too, was carried off. The sympathy of the spectators had for
a while kept them hushed; but, as soon as the man was out of sight, all
their pent-up feelings broke out in indignation against the bull, and
there was a universal cry, in which the soft tones of women mingled
with the hoarse voices of the men, "_Matalo! matalo!_" "Kill him! kill
him!" The picadores stood aghast. Three of their companions had been
struck down and carried off the field; the bull, pierced in several
places, with blood streaming from him, but fresh as when he began, and
fiercer, was roaming round the ring, and they held back, evidently
afraid to attack him. The spectators showered upon them, the
opprobrious name of "_cobardes! cobardes!_" "cowards! cowards!" The
dragoon enforced obedience to their voice, and, fortifying themselves
with a strong draught of agua ardiente, they once more faced the bull,
poised their spears before him, but with faint hands and trembling
hearts, and finally, without a single thrust, amid the contemptuous
shouts of the crowd, fell back, and left the bull master of the field.
Others were let in, and it was almost dark when the last fight ended.
With the last bull the ring was opened to the boys, who, amid roars of
laughter, pulled, hauled, and hustled him till he could hardly stand,
and, amid the solemn tones of the vesper bell, the bull-fight in honour
of San Cristoval ended.
Modern laws, we are told, have done much to abate the danger and
ferocity of bull-fights. The horns of the bull are sawed off, so that
he cannot gore, and spears are not allowed of more than a certain
length, so that the bull cannot be killed by a direct blow; but, in my
opinion, it would be really better for effect upon moral character that
a bullfight should be, as it once was, a battle for life between man
and beast, for then it was an exhibition of skill and daring, around
which were sometimes thrown the graces of chivalry. The danger to which
the man exposed himself, to a certain extent atoned for the barbarities
inflicted on the bull. Here for eight days bulls with blunted horns had
been stabbed, mangled, and tortured; many, no doubt, died of their
wounds, or were killed because they could not recover; and that day we
had seen four men struck down and carried off, two of whom had narrowly
escaped with their lives, if, indeed, they ever recovered. After the
immediate excitement of the danger, the men were less objects of
commiseration than the beasts, but the whole showed the still bloody
effects of this modified system of bull-fighting. Men go into all
places without shame, though not without reproach, but I am happy in
being able to say that none of what are called the higher classes of
the ladies of Merida were present. Still there were many whose young
and gentle faces did not convey the idea that they could find pleasure
in scenes of blood, even though but the blood of brutes.
In the evening we took another hot-bath at the loteria, and the next
day was Sunday, the last day of the fiesta, which opened in the morning
with grand mass in the church of San Cristoval. The great church, the
paintings and altars, the burning of incense, the music, the imposing
ceremonies of the altar, and the kneeling figures, inspired, as they
always do, if not a religious, at least a solemn feeling; and, as on
the occasion of grand mass in the Cathedral on my first visit to
Merida, among the kneeling figures of the women my eyes rested upon one
with a black mantle over her head, a prayer-book in her hand, and an
Indian woman by her side, whose face exhibited a purity and
intellectual softness which it was easy for the imagination to invest
with all those attributes that make woman perfect. Whether she was
maid, wife, or widow, I never learned.
At four o'clock in the afternoon we set out for the procession and
paseo. The intense heat of the day was over, there was shade in the
streets, and a fresh evening breeze. The streets through which the
procession was to pass were adorned with branches, and at the corners
were large collections of them, forming groves of green. The balconies
of the windows were hung with silk curtains and banners, and in the
doorways and along the walks sat rows of ladies simply but beautifully
dressed, without hats, their hair adorned with flowers, and their necks
with jewels. Near the church of San Cristoval we were arrested by the
crowd, and waited till the procession came up.
It was headed by three priests, all richly dressed, one supporting a
large silver cross ten feet high, and each of the others bearing a tall
silver candlestick. They were followed by an Indian band, a motley
group, the leaders of which were three Indians, one supporting the head
and another the foot of a large violoncello. Next came a party of
Indians, bearing on their shoulders a barrow supporting a large silver
cross. At the foot of the cross sat the figure of Mary Magdalen, large
as life, dressed in red. Over her head was a blue silk mantilla, with a
broad gold border, and across her lap the figure of the dead Christ.
The barrow was ornamented with large glass shades, under which candles
were burning, and garlands and wreaths of flowers. This constituted the
whole of the ceremonial part of the procession, and it was followed by
a large concourse of Indians, men and women, dressed in white, all
carrying in their hands long lighted candles.
When the crowd had passed by we strolled to the Alameda. This is the
great place of promenade and paseo in Merida. It consists of a broad
paved avenue, with a line of stone seats on each side, and beyond, on
both sides, are carriage roads, shaded by rows of trees. In full sight,
and giving a picturesque beauty to the scene, rises the Castillo, a
ruined fortress with battlements of dark gray stone, and the spires of
the old Franciscan church rising inside, romantic in its appearance,
and identified with the history of the Spanish conquest. Regularly
every Sunday there is a paseo around the castle and along the Alameda,
and this day, on account of the fete, it was one of the best and gayest
of the year.
The most striking feature, the life and beauty of the paseo, were the
calesas. Except one or two gigs, and a black, square box-wagon, which
occasionally shame the paseo, the calesa is the only wheeled carriage
in Merida. The body is somewhat like that of an oldfashioned gig, only
much larger, and resting on the shaft a little in front of the wheels.
It is painted red, with light and fancifully coloured curtains for the
sun, drawn by one horse, with a boy riding him--simple, fanciful, and
peculiar to Yucatan. Each calesa had two, and sometimes three ladies,
in the latter case the prettiest sitting in the middle and a little in
front, all without hats or veils, but their hair beautifully arranged
and trimmed with flowers. Though exposed to the gaze of thousands, they
had no boldness of manner or appearance, but, on the contrary, an air
of modesty and simplicity, and all had a mild and gentle expression.
Indeed, as they rode alone and unattended through the great mass of
pedestrians, it seemed as if their very gentleness was a protection and
shield from insult. We sat down on one of the stone benches in the
Alameda, with the young, and gay, and beautiful of Merida. Strangers
had not been there to laugh at and break up their good old customs. It
was a little nook almost unknown to the rest of the world, and
independent of it, enjoying what is so rarely found in this equalizing
age, a sort of primitive or Knickerbocker state. The great charm was
the air of contentment that reigned over the whole. If the young ladies
in the calesas had occupied the most brilliant equipages in Hyde Park,
they could not have seemed happier; and in their way, not less
attractive were the great crowds of Mestizas and Indian women, some of
the former being extremely pretty, and all having the same mild and
gentle expression; they wore a picturesque costume of white, with a red
border around the neck and skirt, and of that extraordinary cleanness
which I had remarked as the characteristic of the poorest in Merida.
For an hour, one continued stream of calesas, with ladies, and
Mestizas, and Indian women, passed us without any noise, or confusion,
or tumult, but in all there was such an air of quiet enjoyment that we
felt sad as night came on; and, as the sun sank behind the ruins of the
castillo, we thought that there were few places in the world where it
went down upon a prettier or happier scene.
The crowning ceremonies of the fiesta were a display of fireworks in
the square of the church, followed by a concert and ball. The former
was for the people, the latter for a select few. This, by-the-way,
could hardly be considered very select, as, upon the application of our
landlady, all our household received tickets.
The entertainment was given by an association of young men called _La
Sociedad Philharmonica_. It was the second of a series proposed to be
given on alternate Sundays, and already those who look coldly upon the
efforts of enterprising young men were predicting that it would not
hold out long, which prediction was unfortunately verified. It was
given in a house situated on a street running off from the Plaza, one
of the few in the city that had two stories, and which would be
considered respectable among what are called palazzos in Italy. The
entrance was into an entresol paved with stone, and the ascent by a
broad flight of stone steps. The concert room was the sala. At one end
was a platform, with instruments for the performers and amateurs, and
two rows of chairs were arranged in parallel lines, opposite each
other, the whole length of the room. When we entered, one row was
occupied entirely by ladies, while that opposite was vacant. We
approached it, but, fortunately, before exposing our ignorance of
Merida etiquette, it occurred to us that these also were intended for
ladies, and we moved on to a corner which afforded a longitudinal view
of one line and an oblique view of the other. As different parties
arrived, after leaving shawls, &c., at the door, a gentleman entered,
leading the lady by the hand, which seemed much more graceful and
gallant than our fashion of hitching her on his arm, particularly when
there were two ladies. Leading her to a seat, he left her, and retired
to the corridor, or the embrasure of a window. This continued till the
whole line of chairs was filled up, and we were crowded out of our
corner for our betters, so that the room presented a _coup d'[oe]il_ of
ladies only. Here they sat, not to be touched, handled, or spoken to,
but only to be looked at, which, long before the concert was over, some
were tired of doing, and I think I am safe in saying that the faces of
some of the ladies lighted up when the concert was done, and the
gentlemen were invited to take partners for a waltz.
For the first time in my life, I saw beauty in a waltz. It was not the
furious whirl of the French waltz, stirring up the blood, making men
perspire and young ladies look red, but a slow, gentle, and graceful
movement, apparently inducing a languid, dreaming, and delightful state
of being. The music, too, instead of bursting with a deafening crash,
stole on the ear so gently, that, though every note was heard clearly
and distinctly, it made no noise; and as the feet of the dancers fell
to the gentle cadence, it seemed as if the imagination was only touched
by the sound. Every face wore an expression of pure and refined
enjoyment--an enjoyment derived rather from sentiment than from excited
animal spirits. There were not the show and glitter of the ballroom in
Europe or at home, but there were beauty of personal appearance, taste
in dress, and propriety and simplicity of manners. At eleven o'clock
the ball broke up; and if the loteria was objectionable, and the
bull-fight brutal, the paseo and baglio redeemed them, and left on our
minds a pleasing impression of the fete of San Cristoval.
One fiesta was hardly ended when another began. On Monday was the great
fete of Todos Santos. Grand mass was said in all the churches, and in
every family prayers were offered up for the souls of the dead; and,
besides the usual ceremonies of the Catholic Church throughout the
world, there is one peculiar to Yucatan, derived from the customs of
the Indians, and called Mukbipoyo. On this day every Indian, according
to his means, purchases and burns a certain number of consecrated
candles, in honour of his deceased relatives, and in memory of each
member of his family who has died within the year. Besides this, they
bake in the earth a pie consisting of a paste of Indian corn, stuffed
with pork and fowls, and seasoned with chili, and during the day every
good Yucateco eats nothing but this. In the interior, where the Indians
are less civilized, they religiously place a portion of this
composition out of doors, under a tree, or in some retired place, for
their deceased friends to eat, and they say that the portion thus set
apart is always eaten, which induces the belief that the dead may be
enticed back by appealing to the same appetites which govern when
living; but this is sometimes accounted for by malicious and skeptical
persons, who say that in every neighbourhood there are other Indians,
poorer than those who can afford to regale their deceased relatives,
and these consider it no sin, in a matter of this kind, to step between
the living and the dead.
We have reason to remember this fete from one untoward circumstance. A
friendly neighbour, who, besides visiting us frequently with his wife
and daughter, was in the habit of sending us fruit and dulces more than
we could eat, this day, on the top of a large, undisposed-of present,
sent us a huge piece of mukbipoyo. It was as hard as an oak plank, and
as thick as six of them; and having already overtasked ourselves to
reduce the pile on the table, when this came, in a fit of desperation
we took it out into the courtyard and buried it There it would have
remained till this day but for a malicious dog which accompanied them
on their next visit; he passed into the courtyard, rooted it up, and,
while we were pointing to the empty platters as our acknowledgment of
their kindness, this villanous dog sneaked through the sala and out at
the front door with the pie in his mouth, apparently grown bigger since
it was buried.
The fetes were now ended, and we were not sorry, for now, for the first
time, we had a prospect of having our clothes washed. Ever since our
arrival, our linen, &c., accumulated during the voyage, had stood in
gaping bundles, imploring us to do something for them, but during the
continuance of the fiestas not a lavandera in Merida could be found to
take in washing.
CHAPTER III.
An old Friend.--Brief Account of Yucatan.--Early Voyages of
Discovery.--Columbus.--De Solis and Pinzon.--Expedition of
Cordova.--Voyages of Grijalva.--Expedition of Cortez.--Mission of
Montejo, who receives a Grant from Charles V.--Discoveries, Conquests,
and Sufferings of Montejo and his Companions.--Efforts to convert the
Natives.--Contreras.--Farther Particulars relating to the Conquest of
Yucatan.
I trust the reader has not forgotten our old friend Don Simon Peon, to
whom, of course, our first visit was made. We were received by himself
and his mother, the Dona Joaquina, with the same kindness as on the
former occasion, and in a greater degree. They immediately offered all
in their power to further the objects of our visit, and to the last day
of our residence in the country we continued to feel the benefit of
their friendly assistance. For the present, the sala of the Dona
Joaquina was every evening the rendezvous of her large and respectable
family connexion; there we were in the habit of visiting at all times,
and had reason to believe that we were always welcome guests.
Among the first of Don Simon's good offices was a presentation to the
governor of the state. This gentleman, by reason of the peculiar
political position of Yucatan, occupied at that time a prominent and
important position; but, before introducing him to the reader, it may
not be amiss to give a brief account of the country of which he is the
official head.
It may be remembered that Columbus, in his first three voyages, did not
reach the Continent of America. On his fourth, final, and ill-fated
expedition, "after sixty days of tempestuous weather, without seeing
sun or stars," he discovered a small island, called by the Indians
Guanaja, supposed to be that now laid down on some maps as the island
of Bonaca. While on shore at this island, he saw coming from the west a
canoe of large size, filled with Indians, who appeared to be a more
civilized people than any the Spaniards had yet encountered. In return
to the inquiries of the Spaniards for gold, they pointed toward the
west, and endeavoured to persuade them to steer in that direction.
"Well would it have been for Columbus," says Mr. Irving, "had he
followed their advice. Within a day or two he would have arrived at
Yucatan; the discovery of Mexico and the other opulent countries of New
Spain would have necessarily followed. The Southern Ocean would have
been disclosed to him, and a succession of splendid discoveries would
have shed fresh glory on his declining age, instead of its sinking amid
gloom, neglect, and disappointment."
Four years afterward, in the year 1506, Juan Dias de Solis, in company
with Vincent Yanez Pinzon, one of the companions of Columbus on his
last voyage, held the same course to the island of Guanaja, and then,
steering to the west, discovered the east coast of the province now
known by the name of Yucatan, and sailed along it some distance,
without, however, prosecuting the discovery.
On the eighth of February, 1517, Francisco Hernandez de Cordova, a rich
hidalgo of Cuba, with three vessels of good burden and one hundred and
ten soldiers, set sail from the port now known as St. Jago de Cuba, on
a voyage of discovery. Doubling St. Anton, now called Cape St. Antonio,
and sailing at hazard toward the west, at the end of twenty-one days
they saw land which had never been seen before by Europeans.
On the fourth of March, while making arrangements to land, they saw
coming to the ships five large canoes, with oars and sails, some of
them containing fifty Indians; and on signals of invitation being made,
above thirty came on board the captain's vessel. The next day the chief
returned with twelve large canoes and numerous Indians, and invited the
Spaniards to his town, promising them food, and whatever was necessary.
The words he used were _Conex cotoch_, which, in the language of the
Indians of the present day, means, "Come to our town." Not
understanding the meaning, and supposing it was the name of the place,
the Spaniards called it Point or Cape Cotoche, which name it still
bears.
The Spaniards accepted the invitation, but, seeing the shore lined with
Indians, landed in their own boats, and carried with them fifteen
crossbows and ten muskets.
After halting a little while, they set out, the chief leading the way;
and, passing by a thick wood, at a signal from the chief a great body
of Indians in ambush rushed out, poured upon them a shower of arrows,
which at the first discharge wounded fifteen, and then fell upon them
with their lances; but the swords, crossbows, and firearms of the
Spaniards struck them with such terror that they fled precipitately,
leaving seventeen of their number slain.
The Spaniards returned to their ships, and continued toward the west,
always keeping in sight of land. In fifteen days they discovered a
large town, with an inlet which seemed to be a river. They went ashore
for water, and were about returning, when some fifty Indians came
toward them, dressed in good mantas of cotton, and invited them to
their town. After some hesitation, the Spaniards went with them, and
arrived at some large stone houses like those they had seen at Cape
Cotoche, on the walls of which were figures of serpents and other
idols. These were their temples, and about one of the altars were drops
of fresh blood, which they afterward learned was the blood of Indians,
sacrificed for the destruction of the strangers.
Hostile preparations of a formidable character were soon apparent, and
the Spaniards, fearing to encounter such a multitude, retired to the
shore, and embarked with their water-casks. This place was called
Kimpech, and at this day it is known by the name of Campeachy.
Continuing westwardly, they came opposite a town about a league from
the coast, which was called Potonchan or Champoton. Being again in
distress for water, they went ashore all together, and well armed. They
found some wells; filled their casks, and were about putting them into
the boats, when large bodies of warlike Indians came upon them from the
town, armed with bows and arrows, lances, shields, double-handed
swords, slings, and stones, their faces painted white, black, and red,
and their heads adorned with plumes of feathers. The Spaniards were
unable to embark their water-casks, and, as it was now nearly night,
they determined to remain on shore. At daylight great bodies of
warriors, with colours flying, advanced upon them from all sides. The
fight lasted more than half an hour; fifty Spaniards were killed; and
Cordova, seeing that it was impossible to drive back such a multitude,
formed the rest into a compact body and cut his way to the boats. The
Indians followed close at their heels, even pursuing them into the
water. In the confusion, so many of the Spaniards ran to the boats
together that they came near sinking them; but, hanging to the boats,
half wading and half swimming, they reached the small vessel, which
came up to their assistance. Fifty-seven of their companions were
killed, and five more died of their wounds. There was but one soldier
who escaped unwounded; all the rest had two, three, or four, and the
captain, Hernandez de Cordova, had twelve arrow wounds. In the old
Spanish charts this place is called the Bay "de Mala Pelea," or "of
the bad fight."
This great disaster determined them to return to Cuba. So many sailors
were wounded that they could not man the three vessels, in consequence
of which they burned the smaller one, and, dividing the crew between
the other two, set sail. To add to their calamity, they had been
obliged to leave behind their water-casks, and they came to such
extremities with thirst, that their tongues and lips cracked open. On
the coast of Florida they procured water, and when it was brought
alongside one soldier threw himself from the ship into the boat, and,
seizing an earthen jar, drank till he swelled and died.
After this the vessel of the captain sprung a leak, but by great
exertions at the pumps they kept her from sinking, and brought her into
Puerto Carenas, which is now the port of Havana. Three more soldiers
died of their wounds; the rest dispersed, and the captain, Hernandez de
Cordova, died ten days after his arrival. Such was the disastrous end
of the first expedition to Yucatan.
In the same year, 1517, another expedition was set on foot. Four
vessels were fitted out, two hundred and forty companions enrolled
themselves, and Juan de Grijalva, "a hopeful young man and
well-behaved," was named captain-in-chief.
On the sixth of April, 1518, the armament sailed from the port of
Matanzas for Yucatan. Doubling Cape San Antonio, and forced by the
currents farther down than its predecessor, they discovered the Island
of Cozumel.
Crossing over, and sailing along the coast, they came in sight of
Potonchan, and entered the Bay of Mala Pelea, memorable for the
disastrous repulse of the Spaniards. The Indians, exulting in their
former victory, charged upon them before they landed, and fought them
in the water; but the Spaniards made such slaughter that the Indians
fled and abandoned the town. The victory, however, cost them dear.
Three soldiers were killed, more than seventy wounded, and Juan de
Grijalva was hurt by three arrows, one of which knocked out two of his
teeth.
Embarking again, and continuing toward the west, in three days they saw
the mouth of a very broad river, which, as Yucatan was then supposed to
be an island, they thought to be its boundary, and called the Boca de
Terminos. At Tobasco they first heard the famous name of Mexico; and
after sailing on to Culua, now known as San Juan de Ulloa, the fortress
of Vera Cruz, and some distance beyond along the coast, Grijalva
returned to Cuba to add new fuel to the fire of adventure and
discovery.
Another expedition was got up on a grand scale. Ten ships were fitted
out, and it is creditable to the fame of Juan de Grijalva that all his
old companions wished him for their chief; but, by a concurrence of
circumstances, this office was conferred upon Hernando Cortez, then
alcalde of Santiago de Cuba, a man comparatively unknown, but destined
to be distinguished among the daring soldiers of that day as the Great
Captain, and to build up a name almost overshadowing that of the
discoverer of America.
The full particulars of all these expeditions form part and parcel of
the history of Yucatan; but to present them in detail would occupy too
large a portion of this work; and, besides, they form part of the great
chain of events which led to the conquest of Mexico, the history of
which, by the gifted author of Ferdinand and Isabella, it is hoped,
will soon adorn the annals of literature.
Among the principal captains in the expeditions both of Grijalva and
Cortez was Don Francisco Montejo, a gentleman of Seville. After the
arrival of Cortez in Mexico, and while he was prosecuting his conquests
in the interior, twice it was considered necessary to send
commissioners to Spain, and on both occasions Don Francisco Montejo was
nominated, the first time with one other, and the last time alone. On
his second visit, besides receiving a confirmation of former grants and
privileges, and a new coat of arms, as an acknowledgment of his
distinguished services rendered to the crown in the expeditions of
Grijalva and Cortez, he obtained from the king a grant for the
pacification and conquest of the inlands (as it is expressed) of
Yucatan and Cozumel, which countries, amid the stirring scenes and
golden prospects of the conquest of Mexico, had been entirely
overlooked.
This grant bears date the eighth day of December, 1526, and, among
other things, stipulated,
That the said Don Francisco de Montejo should have license and power to
conquer and people the said islands of Yucatan and Cozumel:
That he should set out within one year from the date of the instrument:
That he should be governor and captain-general for life:
That he should be adelantado for life, and on his death the office
should descend to his heirs and successors forever.
Ten square leagues of land and four per cent of all the profit or
advantage to be derived from all the lands discovered and peopled were
given to himself, his heirs and successors forever.
Those who should join the expedition under him were for the first three
years to pay only the one tenth part of the gold of the mines, the
fourth year a ninth part, and the per centage should go on increasing
till it reached a fifth part.
They should be exempted from export duty upon the articles they carried
with them, provided they were not taken for barter or sale.
They were allowed portions of land, and, after living on them four
years complete, were to be at liberty to sell them and use them as
their own.
Also to take rebellious Indians for slaves, and to take and buy Indians
held by the caciques as slaves, under the regulations of the council of
the Indies. The tithes or tenth parts were granted to be expended in
churches and ornaments, and things necessary for divine worship.
The last provision, which may seem rather illiberal, if not libellous,
was, that no lawyers or attorneys should go into those lands from the
kingdom of Spain, nor from any other part, on account of the litigation
and controversies that would follow them.
Don Francisco Montejo, now adelantado, is described as "of the middle
stature, of a cheerful countenance, and gay disposition. At the time of
his arrival here (in Mexico) he was about thirty-five years of age. He
was fitter for business than war, and of a liberal turn, expending more
than he received;" in which latter qualification for a great enterprise
he could perhaps find his match at the present day.
The adelantado incurred great expenses in the purchase of arms,
ammunition, horses, and provisions; and, selling an estate, which
yielded him two thousand ducats of rent, he fitted out four vessels at
his own expense, and embarked in them four hundred Spaniards, under an
agreement for a certain share of the advantages of the expedition.
In the year 1527 (the month is not known) the armament sailed from
Seville, and, touching at the islands for supplies, it was remarked, as
a circumstance of bad omen, that the adelantado had not on board two
priests, which, under a general provision, every captain, officer, or
subject who had license to discover and people islands or terra firma
within the limits of the King of Spain, was bound to carry with him.
The fleet stopped at the island of Cozumel, where the adelantado had
great difficulty in communicating with the Indians from want of an
interpreter. Taking on board one of them as a guide, the fleet crossed
over to the continent, and came to anchor off the coast. All the
Spaniards went on shore, and, as the first act, with the solemnities
usual in the new conquests, took formal possession of the country in
the name of the king. Gonzalo Nieto planted the royal standard, and
cried out, in a loud voice, "Espana! Espana! viva Espana!"
Leaving the sailors on board to take care of the vessel, the Spaniards
landed their arms, ammunition, horses, and provisions, and, remaining
here a few days to rest, from the excessive heat some became sick. The
Indians knew that the Spaniards had established themselves in New
Spain, and were determined to resist this invasion with all their
strength; but, for the moment, they avoided any hostile demonstrations.
As yet the adelantado had only touched along the coast, and knew
nothing of the interior. Experiencing great difficulty from the want of
an interpreter, he commenced his march along the coast under the
guidance of the Indian from Cozumel. The country was well peopled, and,
without committing any violence upon the inhabitants, or suffering any
injury from them, the Spaniards proceeded from town to town until they
arrived at Conil. At this place, the Indians being apparently friendly,
the Spaniards were thrown off their guard; and on one occasion, an
Indian, who came to pay a visit, snatched a hanger from a little negro
slave, and attempted to kill the adelantado. The latter drew his sword
to defend himself, but the soldiers rushed forward and killed the
Indian on the spot.
The adelantado now determined to march from Conil to the province of
Choaca, and from this time they began to experience the dreadful
hardships they were doomed to suffer in subduing Yucatan. There were no
roads; the country was stony, and overgrown with thick woods. Fatigued
with the difficulties of their march, the heat, and want of water, they
arrived at Choaca, and found it deserted: the inhabitants had gone to
join other Indians who were gathering for war. No one appeared to whom
they could give notice of their pacific intentions, and the tidings
that an Indian had been killed had gone before them.
Setting out again, still under the guidance of the Cozumel Indian, they
reached a town named Ake. Here they found themselves confronted by a
great multitude of Indians, who had lain in ambush, concealed in the
woods.
These Indians were armed with quivers of arrows, sticks burned at the
ends, lances pointed with sharp flints, and two-handed swords of very
hard wood. They had flutes, and large sea-shells for trumpets, and
turtle-shells which they struck with deers' horns. Their bodies were
naked, except around the loins, and stained all over with earth of
different colours, and they wore stone rings in their ears and noses.
The Spaniards were astonished at seeing such strange figures, and the
noise that they made with the turtle-shells and horns, accompanied by a
shout of voices, seemed to make the hills quake. The adelantado
encouraged the Spaniards by relating his experience of war with the
Indians, and a fearful battle commenced, which lasted all that day.
Night came to put an end to the slaughter, but the Indians remained on
the ground. The Spaniards had time to rest and bind up their wounds,
but kept watch all night, with the dismal prospect of being destroyed
on the next day.
At daylight the battle began again, and continued fiercely till midday,
when the Indians began to give way. The Spaniards, encouraged by hope
of victory, pressed them till they turned and fled, hiding themselves
in the woods; but, ignorant of the ground, and worn out with constant
fighting, the victors could only make themselves masters of the field.
In this battle more than twelve hundred Indians were killed.
In the beginning of the year 1528, the adelantado determined again, by
slow marches, to reconnoiter the country; and, having discovered the
warlike character of the inhabitants, to avoid as much as possible all
conflict with them. With this resolution, they set out from Ake in the
direction of Chichen Itza, where, by kindness and conciliation, they
got together some Indians, and built houses of wood and poles covered
with palm leaves.
Here the adelantado made one unfortunate and fatal movement.
Disheartened by not seeing any signs of gold, and learning from the
Indians that the glittering metal was to be found in the province of Ba
Khalal, the adelantado determined to send the Captain Davila to found
in that province a town of Spaniards. Davila set out with fifty
foot-soldiers and sixteen horsemen, and from the time of this
separation difficulties and dangers accumulated upon both. All efforts
to communicate with each other proved abortive. After many battles,
perils, and sufferings, those in Chichen Itza saw themselves reduced to
the wretched alternative of dying by hunger or by the hands of the
Indians. An immense multitude of the latter having assembled for their
destruction, the Spaniards left their fortifications, and went out on
the plain to meet them. The most severe battle ever known in wars with
the Indians took place. Great slaughter was made among them, but a
hundred and fifty Spaniards were killed; nearly all the rest were
wounded, and, worn down with fatigue, the survivors retreated to the
fortifications. The Indians did not follow them, or, worn out as they
were, they would have perished miserably to a man. At night the
Spaniards escaped. From the meager and unsatisfactory notices of these
events that have come down to us, it is not known with accuracy by what
route they reached the coast; but the next that we hear of them is at
Campeachy.
The fortunes of Davila were no better. Arrived at the province of Ba
Khalal, he sent a message to the Lord of Chemecal to inquire about
gold, and requesting a supply of provisions; the fierce answer of the
cacique was, that he would send fowls on spears, and Indian corn on
arrows. With forty men and five horses left, Davila struggled back to
the coast, and, two years after their unfortunate separation, he joined
the adelantado in Campeachy.
Their courage was still unbroken. Roused by the arrival of Davila, the
adelantado determined to make another attempt to penetrate the country.
For this purpose he again sent off Davila with fifty men, himself
remaining in Campeachy with but forty soldiers and ten horsemen. As
soon as the Indians discovered his small force, an immense multitude
gathered round the camp. Hearing a tumult, the adelantado went out on
horseback, and, riding toward a group assembled on a little hill, cried
out, endeavouring to pacify them; but the Indians, turning in the
direction of the voice, and recognising the adelantado, surrounded him,
laid hands upon the reins of his horse, and tried to wrest from him his
lance. The adelantado spurred his horse, and extricated himself for a
moment, but so many Indians came up that they held his horse fast by
the feet, took away his lance, and endeavoured to carry him off alive,
intending, as they afterward said, to sacrifice him to their gods. Blas
Gonzales was the only soldier near him, who, seeing his danger, threw
himself on horseback, cleared a way through the Indians with his lance,
and, with others who came up at the moment, rescued the adelantado.
Both himself and the brave Gonzales were severely wounded, and the
horse of the latter died of his wounds.
About this time the fame of the discovery of Peru reached these unlucky
conquerors, and, taking advantage of the opportunity afforded by their
proximity to the coast, many of the soldiers deserted. To follow up the
conquest of Yucatan, it was indispensable to recruit his forces, and
for this purpose the adelantado determined on going to New Spain.
He had previously sent information to the king of his misfortunes, and
the king had despatched a royal parchment to the audiencia of Mexico,
setting forth the services of the adelantado, the labours and losses he
had sustained, and charging them to give him assistance in all that
related to the conquest of Yucatan. With this favour and his rents in
New Spain, he got together some soldiers, and bought vessels, arms, and
other munitions of war, to prosecute his conquest. Unluckily, as
Tobasco belonged to his government, and the Indians of that province,
who had been subdued by Cortez, had revolted, he considered it
advisable first to reduce them. The vessels sailed from Vera Cruz, and,
stopping at Tobasco with a portion of his recruits, he sent on the
vessels with the rest, under the command of his son, to prosecute the
conquest in Yucatan.
But the adelantado found it much more difficult than he expected to
reduce the Indians of Tobasco; and while he was engaged in it, the
Spaniards in Campeachy, instead of being able to penetrate into the
country, were undergoing great sufferings. The Indians cut off their
supplies of provisions, and, being short of sustenance, nearly all
became ill. They were obliged to make constant sorties to procure food,
and it was necessary to let the horses go loose, though at the risk of
their being killed. They were reduced so low that but five soldiers
remained to watch over and provide for the rest. Finding it impossible
to hold out any longer, they determined to abandon the place. Gonzales
Nieto, who first planted the royal standard on the shores of Yucatan,
was the last to leave it, and in the year 1535 not a single Spaniard
remained in the country.
It was now notorious that the adelantado had not fulfilled the order to
carry with him priests, and, by many of the daring but devout spirits
of that day, his want of success in Yucatan was ascribed to this cause.
The viceroy of Mexico, in the exercise of the discretion allowed under
a rescript from the queen, determined forthwith to send priests, who
should conquer the country by converting the Indians to Christianity.
The venerable Franciscan friar, Jacobo de Festera, although superior
and prelate of the rich province of Mexico, zealous, says the
historian, for the conversion of souls, and desirous to reduce the
whole world to the knowledge of the true God, offered himself for this
spiritual conquest, expecting many hardships, and doubtful of the
result. Four persons of the same order were assigned as his companions;
and, attended by some friendly Mexicans who had been converted to
Christianity, on the eighth of March they arrived at Champoton, famed
for the "mala pelea," or bad fight, of the Spaniards.
The Mexicans went before them to give notice of their coming, and to
say that they came in the spirit of peace, few in number, and without
arms, caring only for the salvation of souls, and to make known to the
people the true God, whom they ought to worship. The lords of Champoton
received the Mexican messengers amicably, and, satisfied that they
could run but little risk, allowed the missionaries to enter their
country. Regardless of the concerns of this world, says the historian,
and irreproachable in their lives, they prevailed upon the Indians to
listen to their preaching, and in a few days enjoyed the fruit of their
labours. This fruit, he adds, "was not so great as if they had had
interpreters familiar with the idiom; but the divine grace and the
earnestness of these ministers were so powerful that, after forty days'
communication, the lords brought voluntarily all their idols, and
delivered them to the priests to be burned;" and, as the best proof of
their sincerity, they brought their children, whom, says the Bishop Las
Casas, they cherished more than the light of their eyes, to be
indoctrinated and taught. Every day they became more attached to the
padres, built them houses to live in, and a temple for worship; and one
thing occurred which had never happened before. Twelve or fifteen
lords, with great territories and many vassals, with the consent of
their people, voluntarily acknowledged the dominion of the King of
Castile. This agreement, under their signs and attested by the monks,
the bishop says he had in his possession.
At this time, when, from such great beginnings, the conversion of the
whole kingdom of Yucatan seemed almost certain, there happened (to use,
as near as possible, the language of the historian) the greatest
disaster that the devil, greedy of souls, could desire. Eighteen
horsemen and twelve foot-soldiers, fugitives from New Spain, entered
the country from some quarter, bringing with them loads of idols, which
they had carried off from other provinces. The captain called to him a
lord of that part of the country by which he entered, and told him to
take the idols and distribute them throughout the country, selling each
one for an Indian man or woman to serve as a slave, and adding, that if
the lord refused to do so, he would immediately make war upon them. The
lord commanded his vassals to take these idols and worship them, and in
return to give him Indian men and women to be delivered to the
Spaniards. The Indians, from fear and respect to the command of their
lord, obeyed. Whoever had two children gave one, and whoever had three
gave two.
In the mean time, seeing that, after they had given up their gods to be
burned, these Spaniards brought others to sell, the whole country broke
out in indignation against the monks, whom they accused of deceiving
them. The monks endeavoured to appease them, and, seeking out the
thirty Spaniards, represented to them the great evil they were doing,
and required them to leave the country; but the Spaniards refused, and
consummated their wickedness by telling the Indians that the priests
themselves had induced them to come into the country. The Indians were
now roused beyond all forbearance, and determined to murder the
priests, who, having notice of this intention, escaped at night. Very
soon, however, the Indians repented, and, remembering the purity of
their lives, and satisfied of their innocence, they sent after the
monks fifty leagues, and begged them to return. The monks, zealous only
for their souls, forgave them and returned; but, finding that the
Spaniards would not leave the country, and that they were constantly
aggrieving the Indians, and especially that they could not preach in
peace, nor without continual dread, they determined to leave the
country and return to Mexico. Thus Yucatan remained without the light
and help of the doctrine, and the miserable Indians, in the darkness of
ignorance.
Such is the account of the mission of these monks given by the old
Spanish historians, but the cautious reader of the present day will
hardly credit that these good priests, "ignorant of the language, and
without interpreters who understood the idiom," could in forty days
bring the Indians to throw their idols at their feet; and still less,
that this warlike people, who had made such fierce resistance to
Cordova, Grijalva, Cortez, and the adelantado, would all at once turn
cravens before thirty vagabond Spaniards; but, says the historian,
these are secrets of Divine justice; perhaps for their many sins they
did not deserve that at that time the word should be preached to them.
We return now to the adelantado, whom we left at Tobasco. Severe wars
with the Indians, want of arms and provisions, and, above all,
desertions instigated by the fame of Peruvian riches, had left him at a
low ebb. In this situation he was joined by Captain Gonzalo Nieto and
the small band which had been compelled to evacuate Yucatan, and by the
presence of these old companions his spirits were again roused.
But the pacification of Tobasco was much more difficult than was
supposed. By communication with the Spaniards, the Indians had lost
their fears of them. The country was bad for carrying on war,
particularly with cavalry, on account of the marshes and pools; their
provisions were again cut off; many of the soldiers went away
disgusted, and others, from the great humidity and heat, sickened and
died.
While they were in this extremity, the Captain Diego de Contreras, with
no fixed destination, and ready to embark in any of the great
enterprises which at that time attracted the adventurous soldier,
arrived at the port. He had with him a vessel of his own, with
provisions and other necessaries, his son, and twenty Spaniards. The
adelantado represented to him the great service he might render the
king, and by promises of reward induced him to remain. With this
assistance he was enabled to sustain himself in Tobasco until, having
received additional re-enforcements, he effected the pacification of
the whole of that country.
The adelantado now made preparations to return to Yucatan. Champoton
was selected as the place of disembarcation. According to some of the
historians, he did not himself embark on this expedition, but sent his
son. It seems more certain, however, that he went in person as
commander-in-chief of the armada, and leaving his son, Don Francisco de
Montejo, in command of the soldiers, returned to Tobasco, as being
nearer to Mexico, from which country he expected to receive and send on
more recruits and necessaries. The Spaniards landed some time in the
year 1537, and again planted the royal standard in Yucatan. The Indians
allowed them to land without noise or opposition, but they were only
lying in wait for an opportunity to destroy them. In a few days a great
multitude assembled, and at midnight they crept silently up the paths
and roads which led to the camp of the Spaniards, seized one of the
sentinels, and killed him; but the noise awoke the Spaniards, who,
wondering less at the attack than at its being made by night, rushed to
their arms. Ignorant as they were of the ground, in the darkness all
was confusion. On the east, west, and south they heard the clamour and
outcries of the Indians. Nevertheless, they made great efforts, and the
Indians, finding their men falling, and hearing the groans of the
wounded and dying, relaxed in the fury of their attack, and at length
retreated. The Spaniards did not pursue them, but remained in the camp,
keeping watch till daylight, when they collected and buried the bodies
of their own dead.
For some days the Indians did not make any hostile demonstrations, but
they kept away or concealed as much as possible all supplies of
provisions. The Spaniards were much straitened, and obliged to sustain
themselves by catching fish along the shores. On one occasion two
Spaniards, who had straggled to some distance from the camp, fell into
the hands of the Indians, who carried them away alive, sacrificed them
to their idols, and feasted upon their bodies.
During this time the Indians were forming a great league of all the
caciques in the country, and gathered in immense numbers at Champoton.
As soon as all the confederates were assembled, they attacked with a
horrible noise the camp of the Spaniards, who could not successfully
contend against such a multitude. Many Indians fell, but they counted
as well lost a thousand of their own number for the life of one
Spaniard. There was no hope but in flight, and the Spaniards retreated
to the shore. The Indians pursued them, heaping insults upon them,
entered their camp, loaded themselves with the clothing and other
things, which in the hurry of retreat they had been obliged to leave
behind, put on their dresses, and from the shore mocked and scoffed at
them, pointing with their fingers, taunting them with cowardice, and
crying out, "Where is the courage of the Spaniards?" The latter,
hearing from their boats these insults, resolved that death and fame
were better than life and ignominy, and, wounded and worn out as they
were, took up their arms and returned to the shore. Another fierce
battle ensued; and the Indians, dismayed by the resolution with which
these vanquished men again made front against them, retired slowly,
leaving the Spaniards masters of the field. The Spaniards cared for no
more, content to recover the ground they had lost.
From this time the Indians determined not to give battle again, and the
great multitude, brought together from different places, dispersed, and
returned to their houses. The Spaniards remained more at their ease.
The Indians, seeing that they could not be driven out of the country,
and did not intend to leave it, contracted a sort of friendship with
them, but they were not able to make any advances into the interior. On
every attempt they were so badly received that they were compelled to
return to their camp in Champoton, which was, in fact, their only
refuge.
As Champoton was on the coast, which now began to be somewhat known,
vessels occasionally touched there, from which the poor Spaniards
relieved some of their necessities. Occasionally a new companion
remained, but their numbers still diminished, many, seeing the delay
and the little fruit derived from their labours, abandoning the
expedition. The time came when there were only nineteen Spaniards in
Champoton, the names of some of whom are still preserved, and they
affirm in their judicial declaration, that in this critical situation
they owed their preservation to the prudence and good management of Don
Francisco Montejo, the son of the adelantado.
Again they were relieved, and again their force dwindled away. The fame
of the riches of Peru was in every mouth. The poverty of Yucatan was
notorious. There were no mines; there was but little encouragement for
others to join the expedition, and those in Champoton were discouraged.
Struggling with continual hardships and dangers, they made no advance
toward the conquest of the country; all who could, endeavoured to get
away, some going in canoes, others by land, as occasion offered. In
order to confer upon some means of bettering the condition of things,
it was necessary for the son of the adelantado to visit his father at
Tobasco, and he set out, leaving the soldiers at Champoton under the
command of his cousin, a third Don Francisco.
During his absence matters became worse. The people continued going
away, and Don Francisco knew that if they lost Champoton, which had
cost them so much, all was lost. Consulting with a few who were most
desirous of persevering in the enterprise, he brought together those
who were suspected of meditating desertion, and told them to go at
once, and leave the rest to their fate. The poor soldiers, embarrassed,
and ashamed at being confronted with companions whom they intended to
desert, determined to remain.
But the succour so earnestly hoped for was delayed. All the expedition
which the son of the adelantado could make was not sufficient for those
who remained in Champoton. They had been nearly three years without
making any advances or any impression upon the country. Despairing of
its conquest, and unable to exist in the straits in which they found
themselves, they talked openly of disbanding, and going where fortune
might lead them. The captain did all that he could to encourage them,
but in vain. All had their luggage and ship-stores ready to embark, and
nothing was talked of but leaving the country.
The exertions of the captain induced them to take better counsel, and
they agreed not to execute their resolution hastily, but, to save
themselves from injurious imputations, first to send notice of their
intention to the adelantado. Juan de Contreras was sent with the
despatches, who gave the adelantado, besides, a full account of the
desperate condition in which they remained at Champoton.
His intelligence gave the adelantado much anxiety. All his resources
were exhausted; he had been unable to procure the succour necessary,
and he knew that if the Spaniards abandoned Champoton, it would be
impossible to prosecute the conquest of Yucatan. Aware of their
necessities, when the news arrived, he had some Spaniards collected to
go to their assistance, and now, by gifts and promises, he made some
additions; and while waiting until these could be got ready, despatched
Alonzo Rosado, one of the new recruits, to give notice of the succour
at hand.
It does not appear whether the adelantado went to Champoton in person,
but vessels arrived carrying soldiers, provisions, clothing, and arms,
and toward the end of the year 1539 his son returned, with twenty
horsemen, from New Spain. The drooping spirits of the Spaniards were
revived, and again they conceived hopes of achieving the conquest of
the country.
About this time, too, the adelantado, grieving over the common
misfortune of himself and those who had been constant and enduring, but
doubting his own fortune, and confiding in the valour of his son Don
Francisco, determined to put into the hands of the latter the
pacification of Yucatan. He was at that time settled in the government
of Chiapas, to which place he summoned his son, and by a formal act
substituted him in all the powers given to himself by the king. The act
of substitution is creditable alike to the head and heart of the
adelantado. It begins with an injunction "that he should strive that
the people under his charge should live and be as true Christians,
separating themselves from vices and public sins, not permitting them
to speak ill of God, nor his blessed mother, nor the saints;" and it
concludes with the words, "because I know that you are a person who
will know how to do it well, putting first God our Lord, and the
service of his majesty, and the good of the country, and the execution
of justice."
Within a month from the time when he was called away by his father, Don
Francisco returned to Champoton with all the provisions necessary for
prosecuting, on his own account, the conquest of Yucatan. From this
time the door of better fortune seemed opened to the Spaniards.
Don Francisco determined forthwith to undertake the march to Campeachy.
At a short distance from Champoton they encountered a large body of
Indians, routed them, and, determined not to make any retrograde
movement, encamped upon the spot.
From this place the Indians, mortified and incensed at their defeat,
erected fortifications along the whole line of march. The Spaniards
could not advance without encountering walls, trenches, and
embankments, vigorously defended. All these they gained in succession;
and so great was the slaughter of the Indians, that at times their dead
bodies obstructed the battle, and the Spaniards were obliged to pass
over the dead to fight with the living. In one day they had three
battles, in which the Spaniards were almost worn out with fighting.
Here, again, the history fails, and it does not appear how they were
received in Campeachy; but it is manifest from other authorities that
in the year 1540 they founded a city under the name of San Francisco de
Campeche.
Remaining in this place till things were settled, Don Francisco, in
pursuance of his father's instructions, determined on descending to the
province of Quepech, and founding a city in the Indian town of Tihoo.
Knowing that delay was dangerous, he sent forward the Captain Francisco
de Montejo, his cousin, with fifty-seven men. He himself remained in
Campeachy to receive and organize the soldiers, who, stimulated by the
tidings of his improving fortunes, were every day coming in from his
father.
Don Francisco set out for Tihoo, and in all the accounts there is a
uniform correspondence in regard to the many dangers they encountered
on that journey from the smallness of their numbers, the great
multitudes of warlike Indians, and the strong walls and other defences
which they found at every step to obstruct their progress. The Indians
concealed the wells and ponds, and as there were no streams or
fountains, they were perishing with thirst. Provisions were cut off,
and they had war, thirst, and hunger on their path. The roads were mere
narrow passes, with thick woods on both sides, encumbered with the dead
bodies of men and animals, and their sufferings from want of water and
provisions were almost beyond endurance.
Arriving at a town called Pokboc, they pitched and fortified their
camp, with the intention of making a halt, but at night they were
roused by finding the camp on fire. All ran to arms, thinking less of
the fire than of the Indians, and in darkness and silence waited to
discover the quarter whence the attack would come; but hearing no
noise, and relieved from the apprehension of enemies, they attempted to
extinguish the flames. By this time, however, the whole camp, and
almost everything that they had, were burned up. But they were not
dismayed. The captain gave notice of this misfortune to his cousin in
Campeachy, and resumed his march. In the year 1540 he arrived at Tihoo.
In a few days he was joined by forty other Spaniards, who were sent on
by Don Francisco Montejo, and at this time some Indians came to them
and said, "What are you doing here, Spaniards? more Indians are coming
against you, more than there are hairs on the skin of a deer." The
Spaniards answered that they would go out to seek them; and, leaving
the guard in the camp, the Captain Don Francisco Montejo immediately
set out, came upon them at a place five leagues distant, and attacked
them with such vigour, that, though they at first defended themselves
bravely, the Spaniards gained upon them, and killing many, the rest
became disheartened and took to flight.
In the mean time the son of the adelantado arrived from Campeachy; and
being now all united, and the Indians at first withholding all
supplies, they very soon began to suffer from want of provisions. While
in this condition, unexpectedly a great cacique from the interior came
to them voluntarily (the circumstances will appear hereafter) and made
submission. Some neighbouring caciques of Tihoo, either moved by this
example, or finding that, after so many years of war, they could not
prevail against the Spaniards, also submitted. Encouraged by the
friendship of these caciques, and believing that they might count upon
their succour until they had finished the subjection of the country,
the Spaniards determined to found a city on the site occupied by Tihoo;
but in the mean time a terrific storm was gathering over their heads.
All the Indians from the east of Tihoo were drawing together; and in
the month of June, toward the evening of the feast of Barnaby the
apostle, an immense body, varying, according to manuscript accounts,
from forty to seventy thousand, came down upon the small band of a
little more than two hundred then in Tihoo. The following day they
attacked the Spanish camp on all sides. The most terrible battle the
Spaniards had ever encountered ensued. "Divine power," says the pious
historian, "works more than human valour. What were so few Catholics
against so many infidels!" The battle lasted the greater part of the
day. Many Indians were killed, but immediately others took their
places, for they were so many that they were like the leaves on the
trees. The arquebuses and crossbows made great havoc, and the horsemen
carried destruction wherever they moved, cutting down the fugitives,
trampling under foot the wounded and dying. Piles of dead bodies
stopped the Spaniards in their pursuit. The Indians were completely
routed, and for a great distance the ground was covered with their
dead.
The fame of the Spaniards rose higher than before, and the Indians
never rallied again for a general battle. All this year the invaders
were occupied in drawing to them and conciliating the neighbouring
caciques, and on the sixth of January, 1542, they founded, with all
legal formalities, on the site of the Indian town of Tihoo, the "very
loyal and noble" city of Merida.
Here I shall leave them; and I make no apology for presenting this
history. It was forty years since a straggling canoe at the island of
Guanaja first gave intelligence of the existence of such a country as
Yucatan, and sixteen since Don Francisco Montejo received the royal
authority to conquer and people it. During that time Cortez had driven
Montezuma from the throne of Mexico, and Pizarro had seized the sceptre
of the Peruvian Incas. In the glory of these conquests Yucatan was
unnoticed, and has been to this day. The ancient historians refer to it
briefly and but seldom. The only separate account of it is that of
Cogolludo, a native historian.
The work of this author was published in the year 1658. It is
voluminous, confused, and ill-digested, and might almost be called a
history of the Franciscan Friars, to which order he belonged. It is
from this work principally that, with no small labour, I have gathered
the events subsequent to the grant made by the king to Don Francisco
Montejo; it is the only work that purports to give an account of those
events, and as it has never been translated, and is scarcely known out
of Yucatan, and even in that country is almost out of print, it must at
least be new to the reader.
CHAPTER IV.
Political State of Yucatan.--Alliance with Texas.--Presentation to the
Governor.--His Character and Personal Appearance.--A Cordial
Reception.--An Arrival of Strangers.--A Citizen of the World.--Another
old Acquaintance.--Population of Merida.--Climate.--General Aspect of
Merida.--An interesting Edifice.--Mode of naming Streets.--Sculptured
Figures.--Churches.--Franciscan Convent.--A Memorial of the
Past.--Ruined Cities of America.--Former Conclusions confirmed.
From the time of the conquest, Yucatan existed as a distinct
captain-generalcy, not connected with Guatimala, nor subject to the
viceroy of Mexico. So it continued down to the Mexican revolution. The
independence of Yucatan followed that of Mexico without any struggle,
and actually by default of the mother-country in not attempting to keep
it in subjection.
Separated from Spain, in an evil hour Yucatan sent commissioners to
Mexico to deliberate upon forming a government; and on the return of
these commissioners, and on their report, she gave up her independent
position, and entered into the Mexican confederation as one of the
states of that republic. Ever since she had been suffering from this
unhappy connexion, and, a short time before our former visit, a
revolution broke out all over the country; in the successful progress
of which, during that visit, the last Mexican garrison was driven out
of Yucatan. The state assumed the rights of sovereignty, asserting its
independent powers, at the same time not disconnecting itself entirely
from Mexico, but declaring itself still a component part of that
republic upon certain conditions. The declaration of its independence
was still a moot question. The assembly had passed a bill to that
effect, but the senate had not yet acted upon it, and its fate in that
body was considered doubtful. In the mean time, a commissioner had been
sent to Texas, and two days after our arrival at Merida the Texan
schooner of war San Antonio arrived at Sisal, bringing a proposition
for Yucatan to pay $8000 per month toward the support of the Texan
navy, and for the Texan vessels to remain upon the coast of Yucatan and
protect it against invasion by Mexico. This proposition was accepted
immediately, and negotiations were pending for farther co-operation in
procuring a recognition of their mutual independence. Thus, while
shrinking from an open declaration of independence, Yucatan was
widening the breach, and committing an offence which Mexico could never
forgive, by an alliance with a people whom that government, or rather
Santa Ana, regarded as the worst of rebels, and whom he was bent upon
exerting the whole power of the country in an effort to reconquer. Such
was the disjointed and false position in which Yucatan stood at the
time of our presentation to the governor.
Our visit to him was made at his private residence, which was one
befitting his station as a private gentleman, and not unworthy of his
public character. His reception-room was in the sala or parlour of his
house, in the centre of which, after the fashion of Merida, three or
four large chairs covered with morocco were placed facing each other.
Don Santiago Mendez was about fifty years of age, tall and thin, with a
fine intellectual face, and of very gentlemanly appearance and
deportment. Free from internal wars, and saved by her geographical
position from the sanguinary conflicts common in the other Mexican
states, Yucatan has had no school for soldiers; there are no military
chieftains and no prepossessions for military glory. Don Santiago
Mendez was a merchant, until within a few years, at the head of a
respectable commercial house in Campeachy. He was so respected for
uprightness and integrity, that in the unsettled state of affairs he
was agreed upon by the two opposite parties as the best person in the
state to place at the head of the government. His popularity, however,
was now somewhat on the wane, and his position was neither easy nor
enviable. From a quiet life and occupations, he found himself all at
once in the front rank of a wide-spread rebellion. An invasion from
Mexico was constantly apprehended, and should it prove successful,
while others would escape by reason of their insignificance, his head
would be sure to fall. The two great parties, one in favour of keeping
open the door of reconciliation with Mexico, and the other for
immediate and absolute separation, were both urging him to carry out
their views. The governor shrank from the hazard of extremes, was
vacillating, undecided, and unequal to the emergency. In the mean time,
the enthusiasm which led to the revolution, and which might have
achieved independence, was wearing away. Dissatisfaction and discontent
prevailed. Both parties blamed the governor, and he did not know
himself to which he belonged.
There was nothing equivocal, however, in his reception of us. He knew
the object of our return to the country, and offered us all the
facilities the government could bestow. Whatever was to be the fate of
Yucatan, it was fortunate for us that it was then free from the
dominion of Mexico, and repudiated entirely the jealous policy which
threw impediments in the way of strangers seeking to explore the
antiquities of the country; and it was also fortunate, that on my
former visit Yucatan had impressed me favourably; for, had it been
otherwise, my situation might have been made uncomfortable, and the two
journals of Merida, the "Commercial Bulletin" and the "Nineteenth
Century," instead of giving us a cordial welcome, and bespeaking favour
for us, might have advised us to return home by the same vessel that
brought us out.
Our only business in Merida was to make inquiries about ruins and
arrangements for our journey into the interior, but in the mean time we
had no lack of other occupation.
The house of the Dona Micaela was the rendezvous of all strangers in
Merida, and a few days after our arrival there was an unprecedented
gathering. There were Mr. Auchincloss and his son, Mr. Tredwell, Mr.
Northrop, Mr. Gleason, and Mr. Robinson, formerly United States consul
at Tampico, who had come out passengers by the Lucinda, all citizens of
the United States; and, besides these, the arrival of the schooner of
war San Antonio, from Texas, brought among us a citizen of the world,
or, at least, of a great part of it. Mr. George Fisher, as appeared by
his various papers of naturalization, was "natural de la ciudad y
fortaleza de Belgrada en la provincia de Servia del Imperio Ottomano,"
or a "native of the city and fortress of Belgrade, in the province of
Servia, in the Ottoman Empire." His Sclavonic name was Ribar, which in
the German language, means a Fischer, and at school in Austria it was
so translated, from which in the United States it became modified to
Fisher. At seventeen he embarked in a revolution to throw off the yoke
of the sultan, but the attempt was crushed, and forty thousand
Sclavonians, men, women, and children, were driven across the Danube,
and took refuge in the Austrian territory. The Austrian government, not
liking the presence of so many revolutionists within its borders,
authorized the organizing of a Sclavonic legion. Mr. Fisher entered it,
made a campaign in Italy, and, at the end of the year, in the interior
of the country, where there was no danger of their disseminating
revolutionary notions, the legion was disbanded. After expeditions of
various kinds along the Danube, in Turkey, to Adrianople, and along the
Adriatic, he traded back, most of the way on foot, until he reached
Hamburgh, where, in 1815, he embarked for Philadelphia. Hence he
crossed over to the Ohio River, and in the State of Mississippi, by
five years' residence, and abjuring all other allegiance, became a
citizen of the United States. Mexico obtained her independence, and he
moved on to that country, becoming, by due process of law, a Mexican
citizen. Here he established a newspaper, which, during the presidency
of Santa Ana, became so conspicuous for its liberal opinions, that one
fine morning an officer waited upon him with a paper containing
permission for him to leave the country "por el tiempo necessario,"
which being translated, meant, not to return very soon. With this he
"sloped" for Texas, and became a citizen of that young republic. It was
strange in that remote and secluded place to meet one from a region
still more distant and even less known, speaking every language in
Europe, familiar with every part of it, with the history of every
reigning family, the territorial limits of every prince, and at the
same time a citizen of so many republics.
His last allegiance was uppermost; his feelings were all Texan, and he
gave us many interesting particulars touching the condition and
prospects of that country. He was, of course, soon at home in the
politics of Yucatan, and he had some little personal interest in
watching them closely; for, should Santa Ana regain the ascendancy, the
climate would be altogether too warm for him. He had saddle and bridle,
sword and pistols--all that he needed except a horse--hanging up in his
room, and at a moment's notice he was ready to mount and ride.
Our meeting with this gentleman added much to the interest of our time
in Merida. In the evening, when we had settled the affairs of Yucatan,
we made an excursion into Illyria or the interior of Turkey. He was as
familiar with the little towns in those countries as with those in
Mexico. His knowledge of persons and places, derived from actual
observation, was most extensive; in short, his whole life had been a
chapter of incidents and adventures; and these were not yet ended. He
had a new field opened to him in Yucatan. We parted with him in Merida,
and the next that we heard of him was of his being in a situation quite
as strange as any he had ever been in before. Yet there was nothing
reckless, restless, or unsettled about him; he was perfectly fixed and
methodical in all his notions and modes of action; in Wall-street he
would be considered a staid, regular, quiet, middle-aged man, and he
was systematic enough in his habits to be head director of the Bank of
England.
I must not omit to mention, among those whom we were in the habit of
seeing every day, another old acquaintance, of the Spanish Hotel in
Fulton-Street, Don Vicente Calera, who, at the time of our former
visit, was still travelling in the United States. In the mean time he
had returned, married, and was again domesticated in his native city.
Under his escort we traversed Merida in every direction, and visited
all the public buildings and institutions.
The population of Merida is probably about twenty-three thousand. Two
tables are published in the Appendix; but both purport to give the
population of the district, and neither that of the city alone. The
city stands on a great plain, on a surface of limestone rock, and the
temperature and climate are very uniform. During the thirteen days that
we were in Merida the thermometer varied but nine degrees; and,
according to a table of observations kept for many years by the
much-esteemed Cura Villamil, it appears that during the year beginning
on the first of September, 1841, which included the whole time that we
were in the country, the greatest variation was but twenty-three
degrees. By the kindness of the cura, I have been furnished with a copy
of this table, from which I extract the observations for the days that
we passed in Merida. The entire table is published in the Appendix. The
observations were made by a Fahrenheit thermometer kept in the open air
and in the shade, and noted at six in the morning, midday, and six in
the afternoon.
|------------------------------------|
| | 6 A.M. | 12 M. | 6 P.M. |
| |--------|-------|--------|
| Oct. 30 | 78 | 81 | 81 |
| " 31 | 81 | 82 | 82 |
| Nov. 1 | 82 | 83 | 82 |
| " 2 | 80 | 82 | 81 |
| " 3 | 78 | 80 | 80 |
| " 4 | 80 | 77 | 77 |
| " 5 | 77 | 78 | 78 |
| " 6 | 74 | 77 | 76 |
| " 7 | 74 | 76 | 76 |
| " 8 | 75 | 78 | 78 |
| " 9 | 75 | 78 | 78 |
| " 10 | 74 | 79 | 79 |
| " 11 | 76 | 79 | 79 |
|----------|--------|-------|--------|
I may remark, however, that in the interior of the country we found a
much greater variation than any noted in the table published in the
Appendix.
The general aspect of the city is Moorish, as it was built at a time
when the Moorish style prevailed in Spanish architecture. The houses
are large, generally of stone, and one story in height, with balconies
to the windows and large courtyards. In the centre of the city stands
the plaza major, a square of about six hundred feet. The whole of the
east side is occupied by the cathedral and the bishop's palace. On the
west stand the house of the municipality and that of the Dona Joaquina
Peon. On the north is the palace of the government, and on the south a
building which on our first visit arrested our attention the moment we
entered the plaza. It is distinguished by a rich sculptured facade of
curious design and workmanship. In it is a stone with this inscription:
Esta obra mando hacerla el
Adelantado D. Francisco de Montejo
Ano de MDXLIX.
The Adelantado Don Francisco Montejo caused this to be made
in the year 1549.
The subject represents two knights in armour, with visors,
breastplates, and helmets, standing upon the shoulders of crushed naked
figures, probably intended to represent the conquering Spaniard
trampling upon the Indian. Mr. Catherwood attempted to make a drawing
of it, and, to avoid the heat of the sun, went into the plaza at
daylight for that purpose; but he was so annoyed by the crowd that he
was obliged to give it up. There is reason to believe that it is a
combination of Spanish and Indian art. The design is certainly Spanish,
but as, at that early period of the conquest, but five years after the
foundation of Merida, Spaniards were but few, and each man considered
himself a conqueror, probably there were none who practised the
mechanic arts. The execution was no doubt the work of Indians, and
perhaps the carving was done with their own instruments, and not those
furnished them by the Spaniards.
The history of the erection of this building would be interesting and
instructive; and, with the hope of learning something about it, I
proposed to examine thoroughly the archives of the cabildo; but I was
advised that all the early archives were lost, or in such confusion
that it would be a Herculean labour to explore them, and I saw that it
would consume more time than I should be able to devote to it.
Besides the inscription on the stone, the only information that exists
in regard to this building is a statement in Cogolludo, that the facade
cost fourteen thousand dollars. It is now the property of Don Simon
Peon, and is occupied by his family. It has been lately repaired, and
some of the beams are no doubt the same which held up the roof over the
adelantado.
Eight streets lead from the plaza, two in the direction of each
cardinal point. In every street, at the distance of a few squares, is a
gate, now dismantled, and beyond are the barrios, or suburbs.
The streets are distinguished in a manner peculiar to Yucatan. In the
angle of the corner house, and on the top, stands a painted wooden
figure of an elephant, a bull, a flamingo, or some other visible
object, and the street is called by the name of this object. On one
corner there is the figure of an old woman with large spectacles on her
nose, and the street is called la Calle de la Vieja, or the Street of
the Old Woman. That in which we lived had on the corner house a
flamingo, and was called the Street of the Flamingo; and the reason of
the streets being named in this way gives some idea of the character of
the people. The great mass of the inhabitants, universally the Indians,
cannot read. Printed signs would be of no use, but every Indian knows
the sign of an elephant, a bull, or a flamingo.
In the front wall of a house in a street running north from the plaza,
and also in a corner house near the square of the Alameda, are
sculptured figures from the ruins of ancient buildings, of which Mr.
Catherwood made drawings, but, in the multiplicity of other subjects,
we do not think it worth while to present them to the reader.
The great distinguishing feature of Merida, as of all the cities of
Spanish America, is in its churches. The great Cathedral; the parish
church and convent of San Cristoval; the church of the Jesuits; the
church and convent of the Mejorada; the chapels of San Juan Bautista;
of Our Lady of Candelaria; of the Santa Lucia and the Virgin, and the
convent de las monjas, or the nunnery, with its church and enclosures
occupying two whole squares, are all interesting in their history. Some
are of good style in architecture, and rich in ornaments; but there is
one other, not yet mentioned, which I regard as the most interesting
and remarkable edifice in Merida. It is the old Franciscan convent. It
stands on an eminence in the eastern part of the city, and is enclosed
by a high wall, with turrets, forming what is now called the Castillo.
These walls and turrets are still erect, but within is ruin
irretrievable.
In 1820 the new constitution obtained by the patriots in Spain reached
the colonies, and on the 30th of May Don Juan Rivas Vertiz, then Gefe
Politico, and now living in Merida, a fine memorial of the olden time,
published it in the plaza. The church sustained the old order of
things, and the Franciscan friars, confident in their hold upon the
feelings of the populace, endeavoured to put down the demonstration of
liberal feeling. A mob gathered in the plaza; friars appeared among
them, urging them on; field-pieces were brought out, the mob dispersed,
and Don Juan Rivas marched to the Franciscan convent, opened the doors,
drove out the monks, above 300 in number, at the point of the bayonet,
and gave up the building to destruction. The superior and some of the
brothers became seculars or regular priests; others turned to worldly
pursuits; and of this once powerful order, but eleven are now left who
wear the garb of the Franciscan monks.
It was in company with one of these that I paid my last visit to this
convent. We entered by the great portal of the castle wall into an
overgrown courtyard. In front was the convent, with its large corridors
and two great churches, the walls of all three standing, but without
doors or windows. The roof of one of the churches had fallen, and the
broad glare of day was streaming into the interior. We entered the
other--the oldest, and identified with the times of the conquerors.
Near the door was a blacksmith's forge. A Mestizo was blowing at the
bellows, hauling out a red-hot bar of iron, and hammering it into
spikes. All along the floor were half-naked Indians and brawny
Mestizoes, hewing timber, driving nails, and carrying on the business
of making gun-carriages for artillery. The altars were thrown down and
the walls defaced; half way up were painted on them, in coarse and
staring red characters (in Spanish), "First squadron," "Second
squadron;" and at the head of the church, under a golden gloria, were
the words "Comp'y Light Infantry." The church had been occupied as
barracks, and these were the places where they stacked their arms. As
we passed through, the workmen stared at my companion, or rather at the
long blue gown, the cord around his waist, and the cross dangling from
it--the garb of his scattered order. It was the first time he had
visited the place since the expulsion of the monks. To me it was
mournful to behold the destruction and desecration of this noble
building; what, then, must it have been to him? In the floor of the
church near the altar and in the sacristia were open vaults, but the
bones of the monks had been thrown out and scattered on the floor. Some
of these were the bones of his earliest friends. We passed into the
refectory, and he pointed out the position of the long table at which
the brotherhood took their meals, and the stone fountain at which they
performed their ablutions. His old companions in their long blue gowns
rose up before him, now scattered forever, and their home a desolation
and ruin.
But this convent contains one memorial far more interesting than any
connected with its own ruin; one that carries the beholder back through
centuries of time, and tells the story of a greater and a sadder fall.
In one of the lower cloisters going out from the north, and under the
principal dormitory, are two parallel corridors. The outer one faces
the principal patio, and this corridor has that peculiar arch so often
referred to in my previous volumes, two sides rising to meet each
other, and covered, when within about a foot of forming an apex, by a
flat layer of stones. There can be no mistake about the character of
this arch; it cannot for a moment be supposed that the Spaniards
constructed anything so different from their known rules of
architecture; and beyond doubt it formed part of one of those
mysterious buildings which have given rise to so much speculation; the
construction of which has been ascribed to the most ancient people in
the Old World, and to races lost, perished, and unknown.
I am happy thus early in these pages to have an opportunity of
recurring to the opinion expressed in my former volumes, in regard to
the builders of the ancient American cities.
The conclusion to which I came was, that "there are not sufficient
grounds for belief in the great antiquity that has been ascribed to
these ruins;" "that we are not warranted in going back to any ancient
nation of the Old World for the builders of these cities; that they are
not the works of people who have passed away, and whose history is
lost; but that there are strong reasons to believe them the creation of
the same races who inhabited the country at the time of the Spanish
conquest, or of some not very distant progenitors."
This opinion was not given lightly, nor without due consideration. It
was adverse to my feelings, which would fain have thrown around the
ruins the interest of mystery and hoary age; and even now, though
gratified at knowing that my opinion has been fully sustained, I would
be willing to abandon it, and involve the reader and myself in doubt,
did circumstances warrant me in so doing; but I am obliged to say that
subsequent investigations have fortified and confirmed my previous
conclusions, and, in fact, have made conviction what before was mere
matter of opinion.
When I wrote the account of my former journey, the greatest difficulty
attending the consideration of this subject was the absence of all
historical record concerning the places visited. Copan had some
history, but it was obscure, uncertain, and unsatisfactory. Quirigua,
Palenque, and Uxmal had none whatever; but a ray of historic light
beams upon the solitary arch in the ruined convent of Merida.
In the account of the conquest of Yucatan by Cogolludo it is stated,
that on the arrival of the Spaniards at the Indian town of Tihoo, on
the site of which, it will be remembered, Merida now stands, they found
many cerros hechos a mano, _i. e._, hills made by hand, or artificial
mounds, and that on one of these mounds the Spaniards encamped.
This mound, it is stated, stood on the ground now occupied by the plaza
major. East of it was another large mound, and the Spaniards laid the
foundation of the city between these two, because, as it is assigned,
the stones in them were a great convenience in building, and economized
the labour of the Indians. These mounds were so large, it is added,
that with the stones the Spaniards built all the edifices in the city,
so that the ground which forms the plaza major remained nearly or quite
level. The buildings erected are specified, and it is added that there
was abundance of material for other edifices which the Spaniards wished
to erect.
Other mounds are mentioned as obstructing the laying out of streets
according to the plan proposed, and there is one circumstance which
bears directly upon this point, and, in my opinion, is conclusive.
In the history of the construction of the Franciscan convent, which was
founded in the year 1547, five years after the arrival of the Spaniards
in Tihoo, it is expressly stated that it was built upon a small
artificial mound, one of the many that were then in the place, on which
mound, it is added, were _some ancient buildings_. Now we must either
suppose that the Spaniards razed these buildings to the ground, and
then constructed this strange arch themselves, which supposition is, I
think, utterly untenable, or that this corridor formed part of the
ancient buildings which, according to the historical account, stood on
this artificial mound, and that for some purpose or other the monks
incorporated it with their convent.
There is but one way to overthrow this latter conclusion, and that is
by contending that these mounds were all ruined, and this building too,
at the time when it was made to form part of the convent; but then we
are reduced to the necessity of supposing that a great town, the fame
of which reached the Spaniards at Campeachy, and which made a desperate
and bloody resistance to their occupation of it, was a mere gathering
of hordes around the ruined buildings of another race; and, besides, it
is a matter of primary importance to note that these artificial mounds
are mentioned, not in the course of describing the Indian town, for no
description whatever is attempted, but merely incidentally, as
affording conveniences to the Spaniards in furnishing materials for
building the city, or as causing obstructions in the laying out of
streets regularly and according to the plan proposed. The mound on
which the convent stands would perhaps not have been mentioned at all
but for the circumstance that the Padre Cogolludo was a Franciscan
friar, and the mention of it enabled him to pay a tribute to the memory
of the blessed father Luis de Villpando, then superior of the convent,
and to show the great estimation in which he was held, for he says that
the adelantado had fixed upon this mound for the site of one of his
fortresses, but on the application of the superior he yielded it to him
readily for the site of the convent; and, more than all this, even in
the incidental way in which these mounds are referred to, there is one
circumstance which shows clearly that they were not at that time
disused and in ruins, but, on the contrary, were then in the actual use
and occupation of the Indians; for Cogolludo mentions particularly and
with much detail one that completely obstructed the running of a
particular street, which, he says, was called El grande de los Kues,
adoratorio que era de los idolos. Now the word "Kues," in the Maya
language, as spoken by the Indians of Yucatan at the present day, means
their ancient places of worship, and the word "adoratorio," as defined
in the Spanish dictionary, is the name given by the Spaniards to the
temples of idols in America. So that when the historian describes this
mound as El grande de los Kues el adoratorio de los idolos, he means to
say that it was the great one, or the greatest among the places of
worship of the Indians, or the temples of their idols.
It is called the "great one" of their places of worship, in
contradistinction to the small ones around, among which was that now
occupied by the Franciscan convent In my opinion, the solitary arch
found in this convent is very strong, if not conclusive, evidence that
all the ruined buildings scattered over Yucatan were erected by the
very Indians who occupied the country at the time of the Spanish
conquest, or, to fall back upon my old ground, that they were the work
"of the same race of people," or "their not very distant progenitors."
Who these races were, whence they came, or who were their progenitors,
I did not undertake to say, nor do I now.
CHAPTER V.
Daguerreotype Apparatus.--Set up as Ladies' Daguerreotype Portrait
Takers.--Preparations.--A pretty young Lady to begin
with.--Preliminaries.--A Chapter of Contingencies.--Success of the
first Experiment.--Other successful Experiments.--A Change of
Fortune.--Give up this Business.--An Incident.--Take up the Practice of
Surgery.--Operation for Strabismus.--Details.--First Subject.--A
great Gathering of Squint Eyes.--A troublesome Patient.--A little
Hero.--Extraordinary Instance of Fortitude.--A Military Patient.--A
Female Patient.--Practice of Surgery abandoned.--Instability of Fame.
But the reader must not suppose that our only business in Merida was
the investigation of antiquities; we had other operations in hand which
gave us plenty of employment. We had taken with us a Daguerreotype
apparatus, of which but one specimen had ever before appeared in
Yucatan. Great improvements had been since made in the instrument, and
we had reason to believe that ours was one of the best; and having
received assurances that we might do a large business in that line, we
were induced to set up as ladies' Daguerreotype portrait takers. It was
a new line for us, and rather venturesome, but not worse than for the
editor of a newspaper to turn captain of a steamboat; and, besides, it
was not like banking--we could not injure any one by a failure.
Having made trials upon ourselves until we were tired of the subjects,
and with satisfactory results, we considered ourselves sufficiently
advanced to begin; and as we intended to practice for the love of the
art, and not for lucre, we held that we had a right to select our
subjects. Accordingly, we had but to signify our wishes, and the next
morning put our house in order for the reception of our fair visiters.
We cleared everything out of the hammock, took the washhand basin off
the chair, and threw odds and ends into one corner; and as the sun was
pouring its rays warmly and brightly into our door, it was farther
lighted up by the entry of three young ladies, with their respective
papas and mammas. We had great difficulty in finding them all seats,
and were obliged to put the two mammas into the hammock together. The
young ladies were dressed in their prettiest costume, with earrings and
chains, and their hair adorned with flowers. All were pretty, and one
was much more than pretty; not in the style of Spanish beauty, with
dark eyes and hair, but a delicate and dangerous blonde, simple,
natural, and unaffected, beautiful without knowing it, and really
because she could not help it. Her name, too, was poetry itself. I am
bound to single her out, for, late on the evening of our departure from
Merida, she sent us a large cake, measuring about three feet in
circumference by six inches deep, which, by-the-way, everything being
packed up, I smothered into a pair of saddle-bags, and spoiled some of
my scanty stock of wearing apparel.
The ceremonies of the reception over, we made immediate preparations to
begin. Much form and circumstance were necessary in settling
preliminaries; and as we were in no hurry to get rid of our subjects,
we had more formalities than usual to go through with.
Our first subject was the lady of the poetical name. It was necessary
to hold a consultation upon her costume, whether the colours were
pretty and such as would be brought out well or not; whether a scarf
around the neck was advisable; whether the hair was well arranged, the
rose becoming, and in the best position; then to change it, and
consider the effect of the change, and to say and do many other things
which may suggest themselves to the reader's imagination, and all which
gave rise to many profound remarks in regard to artistical effect, and
occupied much time.
The lady being arrayed to the best advantage, it was necessary to seat
her with reference to a right adjustment of light and shade; to examine
carefully the falling of the light upon her face; then to consult
whether it was better to take a front or a side view; to look at the
face carefully in both positions; and, finally, it was necessary to
secure the head in the right position; that it should be neither too
high nor too low; too much on one side nor on the other; and as this
required great nicety, it was sometimes actually indispensable to turn
the beautiful little head with our own hands, which, however, was a
very innocent way of turning a young lady's head.
Next it was necessary to get the young lady into focus--that is, to get
her into the box, which, in short; means, to get a reflection of her
face on the glass in the camera obscura at that one particular point of
view which presented it better than any other; and when this was
obtained, the miniatured likeness of the object was so faithfully
reflected, that, as artists carried away by enthusiasm, we were obliged
to call in the papas and mammas, who pronounced it beautiful--to which
dictum we were in courtesy obliged to respond.
The plate was now cleaned, put into the box, and the light shut off.
Now came a trying time for the young lady. She must neither open her
lips nor roll her eyes for one minute and thirty seconds by the watch.
This eternity at length ended, and the plate was taken out.
So far our course had been before the wind. Every new formality had but
increased our importance in the eyes of our fair visiters and their
respectable companions. Mr. Catherwood retired to the adjoining room to
put the plate in the mercury bath, while we, not knowing what the
result might be, a little fearful, and neither wishing to rob another
of the honour he might be justly entitled to, not to be dragged down by
another's failure, thought best to have it distinctly understood that
Mr. Catherwood was the maestro, and that we were merely amateurs. At
the same time, on Mr. Catherwood's account, I took occasion to suggest
that the process was so complicated, and its success depended upon such
a variety of minute circumstances, it seemed really wonderful that it
ever turned out well. The plate might not be good, or not well cleaned;
or the chemicals might not be of the best; or the plate might be left
too long in the iodine box, or taken out too soon; or left too long in
the bromine box, or taken out too soon; or a ray of light might strike
it on putting it into the camera or in taking it out; or it might be
left too long in the camera or taken out too soon; or too long in the
mercury bath or taken out too soon; and even though all these processes
were right and regular, there might be some other fault of omission or
commission which we were not aware of; besides which, climate and
atmosphere had great influence, and might render all of no avail. These
little suggestions we considered necessary to prevent too great a
disappointment in case of failure; and perhaps our fair visiters were
somewhat surprised at our audacity in undertaking at all such a
doubtful experiment, and using them as instruments. The result,
however, was enough to induce us never again to adopt prudential
measures, for the young lady's image was stamped upon the plate, and
made a picture which enchanted her and satisfied the critical judgment
of her friends and admirers.
Our experiments upon the other ladies were equally successful, and the
morning glided away in this pleasant occupation.
We continued practising a few days longer; and as all our good results
were extensively shown, and the poor ones we took care to keep out of
sight, our reputation increased, and we had abundance of applications.
In this state of things we requested some friends to whom we were under
many obligations, to be permitted to wait upon them at their houses. On
receiving their assent, the next morning at nine o'clock Mr. C. in a
caleza, with all the complicated apparatus packed around him, drove up
to their door. I followed on foot. It was our intention to go through
the whole family, uncles, aunts, grandchildren, down to Indian
servants, as many as would sit; but man is born to disappointment. I
spare the reader the recital of our misfortunes that day. It would be
too distressing. Suffice it to say that we tried plate after plate,
sitting after sitting, varying light, time, and other points of the
process; but it was all in vain. The stubborn instrument seemed bent
upon confounding us; and, covering our confusion as well as we could,
we gathered up our Daguerreotype and carried ourselves off. What was
the cause of our complete discomfiture we never ascertained, but we
resolved to give up business as ladies' Daguerreotype portrait takers.
There was one interesting incident connected with our short career of
practice. Among the portraits put forth was one of a lady, which came
to the knowledge of a gentleman particularly interested in the fair
original. This gentleman had never taken any especial notice of us
before, but now he called upon us, and very naturally the conversation
turned upon that art of which we were then professors. The portrait of
this lady was mentioned, and by the time he had finished his third
straw cigar, he unburdened himself of the special object of his visit,
which was to procure a portrait of her for himself. This seemed natural
enough, and we assented, provided he would get her to sit; but he did
not wish either her or her friends to know anything about it. This was
a difficulty. It was not very easy to take it by stealth. However
strong an impression a young lady may make by a glance upon some
substances, she can do nothing upon a silver plate. Here she requires
the aid of iodine, bromine, and mercury. But the young man was fertile
in expedients. He said that we could easily make some excuse, promising
her something more perfect, and in making two or three impressions,
could slip one away for him. This was by no means a bad suggestion, at
least so far as he was concerned, but we had some qualms of conscience.
While we were deliberating, a matter was introduced which perhaps lay
as near Doctor Cabot's heart as the young lady did that of our friend.
That was a pointer or setter dog for hunting, of which the doctor
was in great want. The gentleman said he had one-the only one in
Merida--and he would give it for the portrait. It was rather an odd
proposition, but to offer a dog for his mistress's portrait was very
different from offering his mistress's portrait for a dog. It was clear
that the young man was in a bad way; he would lay down his life, give
up smoking, part with his dog, or commit any other extravagance. The
case was touching. The doctor was really interested; and, after all,
what harm could it do? The doctor and I went to look at the dog, but it
turned out to be a mere pup, entirely unbroken, and what the result
might have been I do not know, but all farther negotiations were broken
off by the result of our out-of-door practice and disgust for the
business.
There is no immediate connexion between taking Daguerreotype portraits
and the practice of surgery, but circumstances bring close together
things entirely dissimilar in themselves, and we went from one to the
other. Secluded as Merida is, and seldom visited by strangers, the fame
of new discoveries in science is slow in reaching it, and the new
operation of Mons. Guerin for the cure of strabismus had not been heard
of. In private intercourse we had spoken of this operation, and, in
order to make it known, and extend its benefits, Doctor Cabot had
offered to perform it in Merida. The Merida people have generally fine
eyes, but, either because our attention was particularly directed to
it, or that it is really the case, there seemed to be more squinting
eyes, or biscos, as they are called, than are usually seen in any one
town, and in Merida, as in some other places, this is not esteemed a
beauty; but, either from want of confidence in a stranger, or a cheap
estimation of the qualifications of a medico who asked no pay for his
services, the doctor's philanthropic purposes were not appreciated. At
least, no one cared to be the first; and as the doctor had no sample of
his skill with him, no subject offered.
We had fixed the day for our departure; and the evening but one before,
a direct overture was made to the doctor to perform the operation. The
subject was a boy, and the application in his behalf was made by a
gentleman who formed one of a circle in which we were in the habit of
visiting, and whom we were all happy to have it in our power to serve.
The time was fixed at ten o'clock the next day. After breakfast our
sala was put in order for the reception of company, and the doctor for
the first time looked to his instruments. He had some misgivings. They
were of very fine workmanship, made in Paris, most sensitive to the
influence of the atmosphere, and in that climate it was almost
impossible to preserve anything metallic from rust. The doctor had
packed the case among his clothing in the middle of his trunk, and had
taken every possible precaution, but, as usual upon such occasions, the
most important instrument had rusted at the point, and in that state
was utterly useless. There was no cutler in the place, nor any other
person competent to touch it. Mr. Catherwood, however, brought out an
old razor hone, and between them they worked off the rust.
At ten o'clock the doctor's subject made his appearance. He was the son
of a widow lady of very respectable family, about fourteen years old,
but small of stature, and presenting even to the most casual glance the
stamp of a little gentleman. He had large black eyes, but, unluckily,
their expression was very much injured by an inward squint. With the
light heart of boyhood, however, he seemed indifferent to his personal
appearance, and came, as he said, because his mother told him to do so.
His handsome person, and modest and engaging manners, gave us
immediately a strong interest in his favour. He was accompanied by the
gentleman who had spoken of bringing him, Dr. Bado, a Guatimalian
educated in Paris, the oldest and principal physician of Merida, and by
several friends of the family, whom we did not know.
Preparations were commenced immediately. The first movement was to
bring out a long table near the window; then to spread upon it a
mattress and pillow, and upon these to spread the boy. Until the actual
moment of operating, the precise character of this new business had not
presented itself to my mind, and altogether it opened by no means so
favourably as Daguerreotype practice.
Not aiming to be technical, but desiring to give the reader the benefit
of such scraps of learning as I pick up in my travels, modern science
has discovered that the eye is retained in its orbit by six muscles,
which pull it up and down, inward and outward, and that the undue
contraction of either of these muscles produces that obliquity called
squinting, which was once supposed to proceed from convulsions in
childhood, or other unknown causes. The cure discovered is the cutting
of the contracted muscle, by means of which the eye falls immediately
into its proper place. This muscle lies under the surface; and, as it
is necessary to pass through a membrane of the eye, the cutting cannot
be done with a broadaxe or a handsaw. In fact, it requires a knowledge
of the anatomy of the eye, manual dexterity, fine instruments, and Mr.
Catherwood and myself for assistants.
Our patient remained perfectly quiet, with his little hands folded
across his breast; but while the knife was cutting through the muscle
he gave one groan, so piteous and heart-rending, that it sent into the
next room all who were not immediately engaged. But before the sound of
the groan had died away the operation was over, and the boy rose with
his eye bleeding, but perfectly straight. A bandage was tied over it,
and, with a few directions for its treatment, amid the congratulations
and praises of all present, and wearing the same smile with which he
had entered, the little fellow walked off to his mother.
The news of this wonder spread rapidly, and before night Dr. Cabot had
numerous and pressing applications, among which was one from a
gentleman whom we were all desirous to oblige, and who had this defect
in both eyes.
On his account we determined to postpone our departure another day;
and, in furtherance of his original purpose, Dr. Cabot mentioned that
he would perform the operation upon all who chose to offer. We
certainly took no trouble to spread this notice, but the next morning,
when we returned from breakfast, there was a gathering of squint-eyed
boys around the door, who, with their friends and backers, made a
formidable appearance, and almost obstructed our entrance. As soon as
the door opened there was a rush inside; and as some of these slanting
eyes might not be able to distinguish between meum and tuum, we were
obliged to help their proprietors out into the street again.
At ten o'clock the big table was drawn up to the window, and the
mattress and pillow were spread upon it, but there was such a gathering
around the window that we had to hang up a sheet before it. Invitations
had been given to Dr. Bado and Dr. Munoz, and all physicians who chose
to come, and having met the governor in the evening, I had asked him to
be present. These all honoured us with their company, together with a
number of self-invited persons, who had introduced themselves, and
could not well be turned out, making quite a crowded room.
The first who presented himself was a stout lad about nineteen or
twenty, whom we had never seen or heard of before. Who he was or where
he came from we did not know, but he was a bisco of the worst kind, and
seemed able-bodied enough to undergo anything in the way of surgery. As
soon as the doctor began to cut the muscle, however, our strapping
patient gave signs of restlessness; and all at once, with an actual
bellow, he jerked his head on one side, carried away the doctor's hook,
and shut his eye upon it with a sort of lockjaw grip, as if determined
it should never be drawn out. How my hook got out I have no idea;
fortunately, the doctor let his go, or the lad's eye would have been
scratched out. As it was, there he sat with the bandage slipped above
one eye, and the other closed upon the hook, the handle of which stood
out straight. Probably at that moment he would have been willing to
sacrifice pride of personal appearance, keep his squint, and go through
life with his eye shut, the hook in it, and the handle sticking out;
but the instrument was too valuable to be lost. And it was interesting
and instructive to notice the difference between the equanimity of one
who had a hook in his eye, and that of lookers-on who had not. All the
spectators upbraided him with his cowardice and want of heart, and
after a round of reproof to which he could make no answer, he opened
his eye and let out the hook. But he had made a bad business of it. A
few seconds longer, and the operation would have been completed. As it
was, the whole work had to be repeated. As the muscle was again lifted
under the knife, I thought I saw a glare in the eyeball that gave token
of another fling of the head, but the lad was fairly browbeaten into
quiet; and, to the great satisfaction of all, with a double share of
blackness and blood, and with very little sympathy from any one, but
with his eye straight, he descended from the table. Outside he was
received with a loud shout by the boys, and we never heard of him
again.
The room was now full of people, and, being already disgusted with the
practice of surgery, I sincerely hoped that this exhibition would cure
all others of a wish to undergo the operation, but a little Mestizo
boy, about ten years old, who had been present all the time, crept
through the crowd, and, reaching the table, squinted up at us without
speaking, his crisscross expression telling us very plainly what he
wanted. He had on the usual Mestizo dress of cotton shirt and drawers
and straw hat, and seemed so young, simple, and innocent, that we did
not consider him capable of judging for himself. We told him he must
not be operated on, but he answered, in a decided though modest tone,
"Yo quiero, yo quiero," "I wish it, I wish it." We inquired if there
was any one present who had any authority over him, and a man whom we
had not noticed before, dressed, like him, in shirt and drawers,
stepped forward and said he was the boy's father; he had brought him
there himself on purpose, and begged Doctor Cabot to proceed. By his
father's directions, the little fellow attempted to climb up on the
table, but his legs were too short, and he had to be lifted up. His eye
was bandaged, and his head placed upon the pillow. He folded his hands
across his breast, turned his eye, did in all things exactly as he was
directed, and in half a minute the operation was finished. I do not
believe that he changed his position a hair's breadth or moved a
muscle. It was an extraordinary instance of fortitude. The spectators
were all admiration, and, amid universal congratulation, he was lifted
from the table, his eye bound up, and, without a word, but with the
spirit of a little hero, he took his father's hand and went away.
At this time, amid a press of applicants, a gentleman came to inform us
that a young lady was waiting her turn. This gave us an excuse for
clearing the room, and we requested all except the medical gentlemen
and the immediate friends to favour us with their absence. Such was the
strange curiosity these people had for seeing a most disagreeable
spectacle, that they were very slow in going away, and some slipped
into the other rooms and the yard, but we ferreted them out, and got
the room somewhat to ourselves.
The young lady was accompanied by her mother. She was full of
hesitation and fears, anxious to be relieved, but doubting her ability
to endure the pain, and the moment she saw the instruments, her courage
entirely forsook her. Doctor Cabot discouraged all who had any distrust
of their own fortitude, and, to my mingled joy and regret, she went
away.
The next in order was the gentleman on whose account we had postponed
our departure. He was the oldest general in the Mexican service, but
for two years an exile in Merida. By the late revolution, which placed
Santa Ana in power, his party was uppermost; and he had strong claims
upon our good feelings, for, in a form expatriation from Mexico,
he had served as volunteer aid to General Jackson at the battle of
New-Orleans. This gentleman had an inward squint in both eyes, which,
however, instead of being a defect, gave character to his face; but his
sight was injured by it, and this Doctor Cabot thought might be
improved. The first eye was cut quickly and successfully, and while the
bloody orb was rolling in its socket, the same operation was performed
upon the other. In this, however, fearing that the eye might be drawn
too far in the opposite direction, the doctor had not thought it
advisable to cut the muscle entirely through, and, on examining it, he
was not satisfied with the appearance. The general again laid his head
upon the pillow, and the operation was repeated, making three times in
rapid succession. Altogether, it was a trying thing, and I felt
immensely happy when it was over. With his eyes all right and both
bandaged, we carried him to a caleza in waiting, where, to the great
amusement of the vagabond boys, he took his seat on the footboard, with
his back to the horse, and it was some time before we could get him
right.
In the mean time the young lady had returned with her mother. She could
not bear to lose the opportunity, and though unable to make up her mind
to undergo the operation, she could not keep away. She was about
eighteen, of lively imagination, picturing pleasure or pain in the
strongest colours, and with a smile ever ready to chase away the tear.
At one moment she roused herself to the effort, and the next, calling
herself coward, fell into her mother's arms, while her mother cheered
and encouraged her, representing to her, with that confidence allowed
before medical men, the advantage it would give her in the eyes of our
sex. Her eyes were large, full, and round, and with the tear glistening
in them, the defect was hardly visible; in fact, all that they wanted
was to be made to roll in the right direction.
I have given the reader a faint picture of Daguerreotype practice with
young ladies, but this was altogether another thing, and it was very
different from having to deal with boys or men. It is easy enough to
spread out a boy upon a table, but not so with a young lady; so, too,
it is easy enough to tie a bandage around a boy's head, but vastly
different among combs and curls, and long hair done up behind. As the
principal assistant of Doctor Cabot, this complicated business devolved
upon me; and having, with the help of her mother, accomplished it, I
laid her head upon the pillow as carefully as if it had been my own
property. In all the previous cases I had found it necessary, in order
to steady my hand, to lean my elbow on the table, and my wrist on the
forehead of the patient I did the same with her, and, if I know myself
I never gazed into any eyes as I did into that young lady's one eye in
particular. When the doctor drew out the instrument, I certainly could
have taken her in my arms, but her imagination had been too powerful;
her eyes closed, a slight shudder seized her, and she fainted. That
passed off, and she rose with her eyes all right. A young gentleman was
in attendance to escort her to her home, and the smile had again
returned to her cheek as he told her that now her lover would not know
her.
This case had occupied a great deal of time; the doctor's labours were
doubled by the want of regular surgical aid, he was fatigued with the
excitement, and I was worn out; my head was actually swimming with
visions of bleeding and mutilated eyes, and I almost felt doubtful
about my own. The repetition of the operations had not accustomed me to
them; indeed, the last was more painful to me than the first, and I
felt willing to abandon forever the practice of surgery. Doctor Cabot
had explained the modus operandi fully to the medical gentlemen, had
offered to procure them instruments, and considering the thing fairly
introduced into the country, we determined to stop. But this was not so
easy; the crowd out of doors had their opinion on the subject; the
biscos considered that we were treating them outrageously, and became
as clamorous as a mob in a western city about to administer Lynch law.
One would not be kept back. He was a strapping youth, with cast enough
in his eye to carry everything before him, and had probably been
taunted all his life by merciless schoolboys. Forcing himself inside,
with his hands in his pockets, he said that he had the money to pay for
it, and would not be put off. We were obliged to apologize, and, with a
little wish to bring him down, gave him some hope that he should be
attended to on our return to Merida.
The news of these successes flew like wild-fire, and a great sensation
was created throughout the city. All the evening Doctor Cabot was
besieged with applications, and I could but think how fleeting is this
world's fame! At first my arrival in the country had been fairly
trumpeted in the newspapers; for a little while Mr. Catherwood had
thrown me in the shade with the Daguerreotype, and now all our glories
were swallowed up by Doctor Cabot's cure of strabismus. Nevertheless,
his fame was reflected upon us. All the afternoon squint-eyed boys were
passing up and down the street, throwing slanting glances in at the
door, and toward evening, as Mr. Catherwood and I were walking to the
plaza, we were hailed by some vagabond urchins with the obstreperous
shout, "There go the men who cure the biscos."
CHAPTER VI.
Departure from Merida.--Map of Yucatan.-Timuciu.--Tekoh.--Human Sculls
and Bones.--Church of Tekoh.--Convent.--A revolting Spectacle.--View
from the Top of the Church.--Cura of Tekoh.--Journey continued.--A
curious Basin.--Telchaquillo.--A subterraneous Well.--An extraordinary
Cave.--Hacienda of Joaquin.--Ruins of Mayapan.--A remarkable
Mound.--Curious sculptured Remains.--Another extraordinary Cave.--A
circular Edifice.--A double Row of Columns.--Ranges of
Mounds.--Arches.--Derivation of the Word Yucatan.--Ancient City of
Mayapan.
On Thursday, the twelfth day of November, we rose for our departure
from Merida. The plan of our route, and all the arrangements for our
journey, were made by our friend Don Simon Peon. Early in the morning
our luggage was sent forward on the backs of mules and Indians, and we
had only to take leave of our friends. Our landlord refused to receive
the four dollars due to him for rent. The pleasure of our society, he
said, was compensation enough, and between friends house-rent was not
to be thought of. We bade him an affectionate farewell, and in all
probability "we ne'er shall see his like again," at least in this
matter of house-rent. We breakfasted for the last time with our
countrymen, including Mr. Fisher and Captain M'Kinley, who had arrived
that morning direct from New-York, at the house of the Dona Micaela,
and, attended by the good wishes of all for our safety and success,
mounted for our journey into the interior.
It was our intention to resume our explorations at Uxmal, the point
where we were interrupted by the illness of Mr. Catherwood. We had
received intelligence, however, of the ruins of Mayapan, an ancient
city which had never been visited, about eight leagues distant from
Merida, and but a few leagues aside from the road, by the haciendas, to
Uxmal. The accounts which we could obtain were meager, and it was
represented as completely in ruins; but, in fulfilment of the purpose
we at that time entertained of going to every place of which we heard
any account whatever, we determined to visit this on our way to Uxmal.
It was for Mayapan, therefore, that we were now setting out.
Our saddles, bridles, holsters, and pistols, being entirely different
from the mountings of horsemen in that country, attracted all eyes as
we rode through the streets. A friend accompanied us beyond the
suburbs, and put us into a straight road, which led, without turning,
to the end of our day's journey. Instead of the ominous warnings we
were accustomed to receive in Central America, his parting words were,
that there was no danger of robbers, or of any other interruptions.
Under these favourable circumstances, in good health and spirits, with
recommendations from the government to its officers in different
sections of the country, and through the newspapers to the hospitality
of citizens in the interior, we set out on our journey. We had before
us a new and unexplored region, in which we might expect to find new
scenes every day. There was but one drawback. We had no servant or
attendant of any kind, our friends having been disappointed in
procuring those which were expected. This, however, did not give us
much uneasiness.
The day was overcast, which saved us from the scorching sun, that
otherwise, at this hour, would have molested us. The road was straight,
level, stony, and uninteresting. On both sides were low, thick woods,
so that there was no view except that of the road before us; and
already, in the beginning of our journey, we felt that, if we were safe
from the confusion and danger which had attended us in Central America,
we had lost, too, the mountains, valleys, volcanoes, rivers, and all
the wild and magnificent scenery that gave a charm to the country in
spite of the difficulties and dangers by which travelling was there
attended.
I would remark that no map of Yucatan at all to be depended on has ever
been published. The Dona Joaquina Peon had one in manuscript, which she
was so kind as to place at our disposal, but with notice that it was
not correct; and, in order to keep a record of our own track from the
time we left Merida until we returned to it, we took the bearings of
the roads, noted the number of hours on each day's journey, and the
pace of our horses, and at some places Mr. Catherwood took an
observation for latitude. From these memoranda our map is prepared. It
is correct so far as regards our route, but does not fix accurately the
location of places which we did not visit.
At the distance of a league we passed a fine cattle hacienda, and at
twenty minutes past one reached Timucui, a small village five leagues
from Merida. This village consisted of a few Indian huts, built around
a large open square, and on one side was a sort of shed for a casa
real. It had no church or cura, and already we experienced a difficulty
which we did not expect to encounter so soon. The population consisted
entirely of Indians, who in general throughout the country speak
nothing but the Maya; there was not a white man in the place, nor any
one who could speak in any tongue that we could comprehend.
Fortunately, a muleteer from the interior, on his way to Merida, had
stopped to bait his mules under the shade of a large tree, and was
swinging in a hammock in the casa real. He was surprised at our
undertaking alone a journey into the interior, seeing that we were
brought to a stand at the first village from the capital; but, finding
us somewhat rational in other respects, he assisted us in procuring
ramon leaves and water for the horses. His life had been passed in
driving mules from a region of country called the Sierra, to the
capital; but he had heard strange stories about foreign countries, and,
among others, that in El Norte a man could earn a dollar a day by his
labour; but he was comforted when he learned that a real in his country
was worth more to him than a dollar would be in ours; and as he
interpreted to his nearly naked companions, crouching in the shade,
nothing touched them so nearly as the idea of cold and frost, and
spending a great portion of the day's earnings for fuel to keep from
freezing.
At three o'clock we left the hamlet, and at a little after four we saw
the towers of the church of Tekoh. In the suburbs of this village we
passed the campo santo, a large enclosure with high stone walls; over
the gateway of which, and in niches along the top of the wall, was a
row of human skulls. Inside the enclosure, at the farthest extremis,
was a pile of skulls and bones, which, according to a custom of the
Indians observed from time immemorial, had been dug up from the graves
and thrown into this shallow pit, a grim and ghastly charnel-house.
The village consisted of a long, straight street, with houses or huts
almost hidden by foliage, and inhabited exclusively by Indians. We rode
up to the plaza without meeting a single person. At one side of the
plaza, on a high stone platform, stood a gigantic church, with two
lofty towers, and in front and on each side was a broad flight of stone
steps. Crossing the plaza we saw an Indian woman, to whom we uttered
the word _convento_, and, following the direction of her hand, rode up
to the house of the cura. It was in the rear of the church, and
enclosed by a large wall. The gate was closed, but we opened it without
knocking. The convent stood on the same platform with the church, and
had a high flight of stone steps. A number of Indian servants ran out
to the corridor, to stare at such strange-looking persons, and we
understood that the padre was not at home; but we were too well pleased
with the appearance of things to think of going elsewhere. We tied our
horses in the yard, ascended the steps, and strolled through the
corridor of the convent and along the platform of the church,
overlooking the village.
Before the door of the church lay the body of a child on a bier. There
was no coffin, but the body was wrapped in a tinsel dress of paper of
different colours, in which red and gold were predominant; and amid
this finery worms several inches long were issuing from its nostrils,
curling and twisting over its face: a piteous and revolting spectacle,
showing the miserable lot of the children of the poor in these Indian
villages.
In a few minutes the ministro, or assistant of the cura, joined us,
from whom we learned that the cura was preparing to bury this child,
and as soon as it was over, would come to receive us. In the mean time,
under his escort, we ascended to the top of the church.
The ascent was by a large stone staircase within one of the towers. The
top commanded a view of a great plain, covered by an almost boundless
forest, extending on one side to the sea, and on the other to the
sierra which crosses the peninsula of Yucatan, and runs back to the
great traversing range in Guatimala, broken only by a high mound, which
at three leagues' distance towered above the plain, a mourning monument
of the ruins of Mayapan, the capital of the fallen kingdom of Maya.
On our return we found the cura, Don Jose Canuta Vela, waiting to
receive us; he had been notified of our coming, and had expected us the
day before. His curacy consisted of nearly two thousand souls, and,
except his ministro, we did not see a white man among this population.
He was under thirty, born and bred in Merida, and in manners and
attainments apparently out of place in such a position; but his
feelings and sympathies were identified with the people under his
charge. The convent was a great stone building, with walls several feet
thick, and in size corresponded with the church. Being so near Merida,
it was more than ordinarily well supplied with comforts; and, among
other things, the cura had a small collection of books, which, for that
country, constituted quite a library.
He relieved us of all difficulty arising from the want of an
interpreter, and, sending for the Indian alcaldes, made immediate
arrangements to forward our luggage, and to accompany us himself the
next day to the ruins of Mayapan. We had again made a beginning with
the padres, and this beginning, in heartiness of welcome and goodness
of cheer, corresponded with all that we had before received at their
hands. We had the choice of cot or hammock for the night, and at
breakfast a group of Indian musicians were seated under the corridor,
who continued making a noise, which they called la musica, till we
mounted to depart.
The cura accompanied us, mounted on one of the best horses we had seen
in the country; and as it was a rare thing for him to absent himself a
day from his parochial duties, he set out as for a holy-day excursion,
worrying our poor nags, as well as ourselves, to keep up with him.
The road upon which we entered turned off abruptly from the camino
real. This royal road itself, like most of the others which bore that
name, would not be considered, in other countries, as indicating a very
advanced state of internal improvement, but the one into which we now
struck was much rougher and more stony, entirely new, and in some
places still unfinished. It had been but lately opened, and the reason
of its being opened at all illustrates one striking feature in the
character of the Indians. The village to which it leads was under the
pastoral charge of our friendly companion, and was formerly reached by
a road, or rather path, so circuitous and difficult that, on account of
his other duties, he was obliged to give notice that he would be
compelled to give it up. To prevent this calamity, all the Indians, in
a body, turned out and made this new road, being a straight cut through
the woods, two leagues in length.
The padre took a lively interest in the zeal lately awakened for
exploring the antiquities of the country, and told us that this
particular region abounded with traces of the ancient inhabitants. At a
short distance from the camino real we came to a line of fallen stones,
forming what appeared to be the remains of a wall which crossed the
road, and ran off into the forest on both sides, traversing, he said,
the country for a great distance in both directions.
A short distance beyond, we turned off to a large hollow basin
perfectly dry, which he called an aguada, and said it was an artificial
formation, excavated and walled around, and had been used by the
ancients as a reservoir for water. At the time, we did not agree with
him, but considered the basin a natural formation, though, from what we
saw afterward, we are induced to believe that his account may have been
correct.
At ten o'clock we reached the small village of Telchaquillo, containing
a population of six hundred souls, and these, again, were all Indians.
It was they who had made the road we had travelled over, and the church
was under our friend's pastoral charge. We rode to the convent, and
dismounted. Immediately the bell of the church tolled, to give notice
of his arrival, that all who wished to confess or get married, who had
sick to be visited, children to be baptized, or dead to be buried,
might apply to him, and have their wants attended to.
The village consisted entirely of huts, or casas de paja. The church
had been commenced on a large scale, under the direction of a former
cura, who afterward became dissatisfied with the people, and
discontinued the building. One end was covered over, and fitted up
rudely as a chapel; beyond were two high walls, but roofless.
In the square of this little village was a great senote, or
subterraneous well, which supplied all the inhabitants with water. At a
distance the square seemed level and unbroken; but women walking across
it with cantaros or water-jars suddenly disappeared, and others seemed
to rise out of the earth. On a nearer approach, we found a great
orifice or opening in the rocky surface, like the mouth of a cave. The
descent was by irregular steps cut and worn in the rocks. Over head was
an immense rocky roof, and at a distance of perhaps five hundred feet
from the mouth was a large basin or reservoir of water. Directly over
the water the roof was perhaps sixty feet high; and there was an
opening above which threw down a strong body of light. The water had no
current, and its source was a mystery. During the rainy season it rises
a little, but never falls below a certain point, and at all times
it is the only source of supply to the inhabitants. Women, with their
water-jars, were constantly ascending and descending; swallows were
darting through the cave in every direction, and the whole formed a
wild, picturesque, and romantic scene.
At this village we found waiting for us the major domo of the hacienda
of San Joaquin, on which stand the ruins of Mayapan. Leaving the
senote, we mounted and followed him.
At the distance of half a mile he stopped near a great cave that had
lately been discovered, and which, he said had no end. Tying our horses
to the bushes, we turned off to visit it. The major domo cut a path a
short distance into the woods; following which we came to a large
hollow, overgrown with trees, and, descending, entered a great cavern
with a lofty roof, and gigantic passages branching off in different
directions, and running no one knew whither. The cave had been
discovered by the major domo and some vaqueros while in pursuit of
robbers who had stolen a bull; and no robber's cave in romantic story
could equal it in wildness. The major domo said he had entered it with
ten men, and had passed four hours in exploration without finding any
end. The cave, its roof, base, and passages, were an immense fossil
formation. Marine shells were conglomerated together in solid masses,
many of them perfect, showing a geological structure which indicated
that the whole country, or, at least, that portion of it; had been
once, and probably at no very remote period, overflowed by the sea.
We could have passed a day with much satisfaction in rambling through
this cave, but, remaining only a few minutes, and taking away some
curious and interesting specimens, we remounted, and very soon reached
mounds of earth, fragments of sculptured stones, broken walls, and
fallen buildings, indicating that we were once more treading upon the
sepulchre of an aboriginal city.
At eleven o'clock we came to a clearing, in which was situated the
hacienda of San Joaquin. The building was a mere rancho, erected only
for the residence of a mayoral, a person inferior to a major domo; but
there was a fine clearing around it, and the situation was wild and
beautiful. In the cattleyard were noble trees. In the platform of the
well were sculptured stones taken from the ancient buildings; it was
shaded by the spreading branches of a fine ramon or tropical oak, with
a foliage of vivid green; and crowning the top, and apparently growing
out of it, were the long, pale leaves of the cocoanut.
The hacienda, or rather rancho, of San Joaquin, on which the ruins of
Mayapan lie scattered, is ten leagues south from Merida. It forms part
of the great hacienda of Xcanchakan, the property of Don Jose Maria
Meneses, the venerable cura of San Cristoval, formerly provesor of the
Church of Yucatan. We had made the acquaintance of this gentleman at
the house of his friend Senor Rejon, secretary of state, and he had
sent instructions to his major domo, the same who had met us at the
last village, to place at our command all the disposable force of the
hacienda.
The ruins of Mayapan cover a great plain, which was at that time so
overgrown that hardly any object was visible until we were close upon
it, and the undergrowth was so thick that it was difficult to work our
way through it. Our's was the first visit to examine these ruins. For
ages they had been unnoticed, almost unknown, and left to struggle with
rank tropical vegetation; and the major domo, who lived on the
principal hacienda, and had not seen them in twenty-three years, was
more familiar with them than any other person we could find. He told us
that within a circumference of three miles, ruins were found, and that
a strong wall once encompassed the city, the remains of which might
still be traced through the woods.
[Engraving 2. A ruined Mound.]
At a short distance from the hacienda, but invisible on account of the
trees, rises the high mound which we had seen at three leagues'
distance, from the top of the church at Tekoh, and which is represented
in the following engraving. It is sixty feet high, and one hundred feet
square at the base; and, like the mounds at Palenque and Uxmal, it is
an artificial structure, built up solid from the plain. Though seen
from a great distance above the tops of the trees, the whole field was
so overgrown that it was scarcely visible until we reached its foot;
and the mound itself, though retaining the symmetry of its original
proportions, was also so overgrown that it appeared a mere wooded hill,
but peculiar in its regularity of shape. Four grand staircases, each
twenty-five feet wide, ascended to an esplanade within six feet of the
top. This esplanade was six feet in width, and on each side was a
smaller staircase leading to the top. These staircases are in a ruinous
condition; the steps are almost entirely gone, and we climbed up by
means of fallen stones and trees growing out of its sides. As we
ascended, we scared away a cow, for the wild cattle roaming on these
wooded wastes pasture on its sides, and ascend to the top.
The summit was a plain stone platform, fifteen feet square. It had no
structure upon it, nor were there vestiges of any. Probably it was the
great mound of sacrifice, on which the priests, in the sight of the
assembled people, cut out the hearts of human victims. The view
commanded from the top was a great desolate plain, with here and there
another ruined mound rising above the trees, and far in the distance
could be discerned the towers of the church at Tekoh.
Around the base of this mound, and throughout the woods, wherever we
moved, were strewed sculptured stones. Most of them were square, carved
on the face, and having a long stone tenon or stem at the back;
doubtless they had been fixed in the wall, so as to form part of some
ornament, or combination of ornaments, in the facade, in all respects
the same as at Uxmal.
[Engraving 3: Sculptured Figures]
Besides these, there were other and more curious remains. These were
representations of human figures, or of animals, with hideous features
and expressions, in producing which the skill of the artist seems to
have been expended. The sculpture of these figures was rude, the stones
were timeworn, and many were half buried in the earth. The following
engraving represents two of them. One is four, and the other three feet
high. The full length seems intended to represent a warrior with a
shield. The arms are broken off, and to my mind they conveyed a lively
idea of the figures or idols which Bernal Dias met with on the coast,
containing hideous faces of demons. Probably, broken and half buried as
they lie, they were once objects of adoration and worship, and now
exist as mute and melancholy memorials of ancient paganism.
At a short distance from the base of the mound was an opening in the
earth, forming another of those extraordinary caves before presented to
the reader. The cura, the major domo, and the Indians called it a
senote, and said that it had supplied the inhabitants of the old city
with water. The entrance was by a broken, yawning mouth, steep, and
requiring some care in the descent. At the first resting-place, the
month opened into an extensive subterraneous chamber, with a high roof,
and passages branching off in every direction. In different places were
remains of fires and the bones of animals, showing that it had at times
been the place of refuge or residence of men. In the entrance of one of
the passages we found a sculptured idol, which excited us with the hope
of discovering some altar or sepulchre, or perhaps mummied figures.
With this hope, we sent the Indians to procure torches; and while Mr.
Catherwood was making some sketches, Doctor Cabot and myself passed an
hour in exploring the recesses of the cave. In many places the roof had
fallen, and the passages were choked up. We followed several of them
with much toil and disappointment, and at length fell into one, low and
narrow, along which it was necessary to crawl on the hands and feet,
and where, from the flame and smoke of the torches, it was desperately
hot. We at length came to a body of water, which, on thrusting the hand
into it, we found to be incrusted with a thin coat of sulphate of lime,
that had formed on the top of the water, but decomposed on being
brought into the air.
Leaving the cave or senote, we continued rambling among the ruins. The
mounds were all of the same general character, and the buildings had
entirely disappeared on all except one; but this was different from any
we had at that time seen, though we afterward found others like it.
[Engraving 4: Circular Edifice]
It stood on a ruined mound about thirty feet high. What the shape of
the mound had been it was difficult to make out, but the building was
circular. The following engraving represents this edifice, with the
mound on which it stands. The exterior is of plain stone, ten feet high
to the top of the lower cornice, and fourteen more to that of the upper
one. The door faces the west, and over it is a lintel of stone. The
outer wall is five feet thick; the door opens into a circular passage
three feet wide, and in the centre is a cylindrical solid mass of
stone, without any doorway or opening of any kind. The whole diameter
of the building is twenty-five feet, so that, deducting the double
width of the wall and passage, this centre mass must be nine feet in
thickness. The walls had four or five coats of stucco, and there were
remains of painting, in which red, yellow, blue, and white were
distinctly visible.
On the southwest side of the building, and on a terrace projecting from
the side of the mound, was a double row of columns eight feet apart, of
which only eight remained, though probably, from the fragments around,
there had been more, and, by clearing away the trees, more might have
been found still standing. In our hurried visit to Uxmal, we had seen
objects which we supposed might have been intended for columns, but
were not sure; and though we afterward saw many, we considered these
the first decided columns we had seen. They were two feet and a half in
diameter, and consisted of five round stones, eight or ten inches
thick, laid one upon another. They had no capitals, and what particular
connexion they had with the building did not appear.
So far, although the fragments of sculpture were of the same general
character as at Uxmal, we had not found any edifice sufficiently entire
to enable us to identify that peculiar arch which we had found in all
the ruined buildings of this country; but it was not wanting. At some
distance from this place, and on the other side of the hacienda, were
long ranges of mounds. These had once been buildings, the tops of which
had fallen, and almost buried the structures. At the end was a doorway,
encumbered and half filled with rubbish, crawling through which, we
stood upright in apartments exactly similar to those at Uxmal, with the
arch formed of stones overlapping, and a flat stone covering the top.
The apartments were ruder and narrower, but they were of precisely the
same character with all the others we had seen.
The day was now nearly spent; with the heat and labour we were
exceedingly fatigued, and the Indians insisted that we had seen all the
principal remains. The place was so overgrown with trees that it would
have taken a long time to clear them away, and for the present at least
it was out of the question. Besides, the only result we could promise
ourselves was the bringing to light of fragments and single pieces of
buried sculpture. Of one thing, however, we had no doubt: the ruins of
this city were of the same general character with those at Uxmal,
erected by the same builders, probably of older date, and suffering
more from the corrosion of the elements, or they had been visited more
harshly by the destroying hand of man.
Fortunately, at this place again we have a ray of historic light.
According to the best accounts, the region of country now called
Yucatan was known to the natives, at the time of the Spanish invasion,
by the name of Maya, and before that time it had never been known by
any other. The name of Yucatan was given to it by the Spaniards. It is
entirely arbitrary and accidental, and its origin is not known with
certainty. It is supposed by some to be derive
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