THE CITY OF THE
SACRED WELL
[Illustration: “A last forward swing and the bride of Yum Chac hurtles
far out over the well.”]
THE CITY OF THE
SACRED WELL
BEING A NARRATIVE OF THE DISCOVERIES AND
EXCAVATIONS OF EDWARD HERBERT THOMPSON
IN THE ANCIENT CITY OF CHI-CHEN
ITZA WITH SOME DISCOURSE ON THE
CULTURE AND DEVELOPMENT OF
THE MAYAN CIVILIZATION AS
REVEALED BY THEIR ART
AND ARCHITECTURE, HERE
SET DOWN AND ILLUSTRATED
FROM
PHOTOGRAPHS
BY
T. A. WILLARD
[Illustration]
THE CENTURY CO.
NEW YORK & LONDON
Copyright, 1926, by
THE CENTURY CO.
360
Printed in U. S. A.
PREFACE
This book is primarily an attempt to recount the many thrilling
experiences of Edward Herbert Thompson in his lifelong quest for
archæological treasures in the ancient and abandoned city of Chi-chen
Itza, for centuries buried beneath the jungle of Yucatan.
As a boy Mr. Thompson—or Don Eduardo, as he is affectionately known
to the natives about the Sacred City—sat in his snug New England home
and read of the adventures of Stephens in Yucatan, descriptions of the
old Maya civilization, and the legends concerning the Sacred Well at
Chi-chen Itza. Then and there he determined that his life-work should
be the uncovering of the age-old secrets of the ancient city.
When still a mere youth he was appointed by the President of the United
States as the first American Consul to Yucatan, the appointment having
been urged by the American Antiquarian Society and the Peabody Museum
of Harvard University, both of which were anxious to have a trained
investigator on the peninsula.
Enthusiastically Mr. Thompson undertook his double mission. For over
twenty-five years he remained at his post as consul. During this long
period, sometimes at the head of regularly organized expeditions under
the auspices of American archæological institutions, at other times
with only his faithful native followers, he discovered ruined cities
until then unknown to the world and carried on exhaustive researches
among those already discovered.
At last Mr. Thompson resigned the consular office, in order to carry
on the various scientific undertakings that required all his time and
energy. Chief among these was the search for relics that for hundreds
of years had lain buried in the mud at the bottom of the Sacred Well.
Many and many a night, under the gorgeous moonlight of Yucatan or
by some cozy fireside in the States, I have listened entranced, as
the hours glided by, to the true tales Don Eduardo tells of his
experiences or of the customs and the folk-lore of the country. I know
intimately this lovable, modest, blue-eyed six-footer, this dreamer
and adventurer, gray-haired now but still with the heart of a boy. I
know him better, perhaps, than does any other man, and if I do not
write down the things he has told me they will never be written, for
Don Eduardo will not do it. Therefore I have asked and received his
permission to write, from memory and from his notes and my own, this
book, which he has read and corrected.
It is a faithful account of the many valuable archæological finds he
has made, but, though written as if Don Eduardo himself were speaking,
it inevitably lacks the color and fire of his word-of-mouth narrative.
It contains, further, such description of the Maya culture and history
as may help the reader to understand this ancient civilization. The
writer hopes that it may be acceptable to the avid reader of travel
and adventure, and there is also the timid hope that it may be of some
little educational value to the serious-minded reader, to the end that
he may feel that he has not wasted time on a mere “yarn.”
T. A. WILLARD.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
The author is indebted, for information and assistance, to many good
friends in Yucatan, but chiefly to Señor Juan Martinez H., to the late
Teoberto Maler, and to Mr. and Mrs. William James for their timely
hospitality.
The books and writings of the old priests, as well as current books on
the Maya era, also have been of much aid.
T. A. W.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I YUCATAN, THE LAND OF THE MAYAS 3
II THE CHURCH OF SAN ISIDRO AND ITS FRAGRANT LEGEND 24
III THE FIRST AMERICANS 32
IV DON EDUARDO’S FIRST VIEW OF THE CITY OF THE SACRED WELL 49
V THE ANCIENT CITY 58
VI AN IDLE DAY IN THE JUNGLE 88
VII THE SACRED WELL 97
VIII SIXTY FEET UNDER WATER 118
IX TWO LEGENDS 150
X THE CONQUEST 166
XI THE FINDING OF THE DATE-STONE 179
XII THE CONSTRUCTION OF MAYA BUILDINGS 189
XIII STORY-TELLERS OF YUCATAN 198
XIV FORGOTTEN MICHAEL ANGELOS 211
XV THE TOMB OF THE HIGH PRIEST 236
XVI THE LEGEND OF THE SACRIFICIAL PILGRIMAGE 261
XVII THIRTY YEARS OF DIGGING 278
APPENDIX 285
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A last forward swing and the bride of Yum Chac hurtles far out
over the well _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
The Nunnery, the only three-storied structure in the Sacred City 64
The second story of the Nunnery 65
All that remains of the third story of the Nunnery. Several
inscribed stones built hit or miss into the wall were
doubtless taken from the older city 65
El Castillo, the Temple of Kukul Can, on its great pyramid,
is the center of the Sacred City and the largest edifice 112
Looking down into the Sacred Well. Because of the size of the
well and the fringe of trees about it, the whole scene
cannot be photographed 113
A sculpture in bas-relief showing a warrior-priest in ceremonial
attire, representing the Maya hero-god Kukul Can, the plumed
serpent 240
A religious ceremony depicted in the Temple of Bas-Reliefs. This
is but a small section from the interior walls, which
contain more than eighty figures 241
THE CITY OF THE
SACRED WELL
CHAPTER I
YUCATAN, THE LAND OF THE MAYAS
Imagine yourself the sole owner of a plantation within which lies a
city more than twelve square miles in area; a city of palaces and
temples and mausoleums; a city of untold treasures, rich in sculptures
and paintings. Would you not feel shamefully wealthy? And does it not
seem strange that Don Eduardo, the master of such a plantation, takes
the fact of his ownership with apparent calmness?
But, before your fancy carries you too far, let me tell you a little
more about this remarkable city, which may dampen your ardor for
ownership, but which only increases its value in Don Eduardo’s eyes.
It is a dead city. Its thousands of inhabitants perished or abandoned
it nobody knows how long ago—probably before Columbus first saw the
shores of America. And it is in the heart of Yucatan, where Mexico,
ending like the upflung tail of a huge fish, juts into the gulf, while
Cuba serves as a sentinel a hundred and fifty miles to the eastward.
The Treasure City, the City of the Sacred Well, with the queer-sounding
name of the Chi-chen Itza (pronounce it Chee´chen Eet-za´), is for the
most part overgrown with tropical jungle. Its treasures are valuable
only to the antiquarian.
Early in our conversations about the City of the Sacred Well, Don
Eduardo told me that because at the time of his purchase the plantation
was well within the territory dominated by the dreaded Sublevados,
the rebellious Maya Indians, no planter dared live in or even visit
the region for long, and so he was able to secure the land from its
absentee owners cheap, as plantation prices run in Yucatan.
[Illustration: THE ANCIENT CITY OF CHI-CHEN ITZA IS AT NO GREAT
DISTANCE FROM THE UNITED STATES.]
“My life-interest has been American archæology,” he said, “and I came
first to Yucatan, thirty years ago, to explore its ruins and relics of
an ancient civilization. Even before that I had read of the immense
Sacred Well at Chi-chen Itza—a well as wide as a small lake and deep
enough to hold a fifteen-story building—and had made up my mind that
I would be the man who some day made it yield up its secrets. For a
long time I tried to persuade various wealthy Americans to finance the
undertaking, but organizing a stock company to raise sunken galleons
along the Spanish Main would be a simple task as compared with my
difficulties in promoting what seemed a will-o’-the-wisp project. At
last, however, I did succeed.”
But I am ahead of my story.
The trip from New York to the City of the Sacred Well requires but
a week and may now be accomplished luxuriously, whereas my earlier
journeys over the same route were anything but comfortable. Mr. John
L. Stephens, who was sent to Yucatan by the United States Government
in 1841, describes, in his interesting book “Incidents of Travel in
Yucatan,” the difficulties of travel which he met. They might have
daunted any spirit less courageous than his. His four volumes, although
written nearly eighty years ago, retain their pristine freshness and
are still authoritative. I recommend them heartily to the reader.
On any Thursday the traveler destined for the City of the Sacred Well
may board at New York a Ward Line steamer bound for Progreso, the only
port of Yucatan. The liner stops over at Havana, and a day and a night
after leaving that hectic city one awakes in the early dawn to the
deep-chanted tones of a sailor who is casting the lead. “Four fathoms,”
he cries; then, “Three fathoms,” and finally the engines are hushed and
out goes the anchor. Through the port-hole is seen a lighthouse and
behind it a faint, foggy vista of low-lying sandy shore.
By the time the unhurried ritual of arising has been performed and one
appears on deck all is flooded with brilliant sunshine. The sky above
is a cloudless cobalt blue. The day is hot, but the sea-breeze keeps it
from being uncomfortably so. One senses, nevertheless, in some subtle
way, that he is actually in the tropics. So shallow is the water that
ocean-going vessels may not safely approach to within less than five
miles of the rather uninspiring port of Progreso, marked by several
long piers jutting into the sea and the aforementioned lighthouse.
Passengers and goods must be taken off in lighters or in small boats.
On approaching the shore one sees rows of pelicans sitting alongside
the wharves—the most serious and sad-looking birds imaginable. They
remind one of the rows of Glooms frequently portrayed by one of our
cartoonists in the daily newspaper comic strip.
There is little reason for tarrying in Progreso, even though it is
the third most important seaport in Mexico. It is from here that the
henequen of Yucatan is shipped, and the cultivation of this cactus-like
plant, from whose fiber rope and twine are made, constitutes the chief
enterprise of the province. Two railroads, one narrow-gauge, the other
standard, cover the twenty-four miles between Progreso and the lovely
city of Mérida, capital of Yucatan. Oddly enough, the fare is higher
on the narrower, longer, and poorer road than on the road of standard
gauge. The latter is modern in every respect and provided with coaches
and locomotives imported from the United States. The daily Peniche
Express starts on time and arrives in the same fashion.
The Grand Hotel at Mérida is the customary stopping-place for all
foreigners and is a very good and well-operated institution. It faces
the beautiful tree-lined Plaza Hidalgo, but is, unfortunately, located
close to a number of churches and a cathedral whose cracked bells
are rung mightily at various hours and particularly when one wishes
to sleep. As a result, persons not yet hardened to this venerable
Spanish-American custom are likely to have a broken night’s slumber.
Mérida is a city of 63,000 people and is modern in many respects. It
is hot there in the sun but cool in the shade, for there is always a
breeze from the perpetually blowing trade-wind. The city is healthful,
well paved, electrically lighted, and excellently served with street
cars, and it has many handsome buildings and residences. Its population
varies all the way from the pure Castilian, through the Mestizos, to
the Mayas or full-blooded Indians. Almost every night a band plays in
one of the several plazas or parks. North-American airs are favored
and I have heard them much more badly played by musicians in our own
land than here under the tropical moonlight, in a setting of rarely
beautiful and fragrant flowers. During the band concert daintily clean
Indian girls, in their voluminous embroidered dresses or _huipiles_
and embroidered sandals, circle about. In another circle stroll their
Indian beaux in high-heeled sandals and starched white cotton suits.
The ladies of the upper class, dressed in the Spanish or European
manner, are driven slowly about the plaza in their automobiles.
Formerly carriages—the sort we call, or did call, landaus—were used,
but the automobile has displaced these and in so doing has destroyed
half the charm of the scene. Nevertheless it is still charming. The
romance of it may be guaranteed to put a thrill into the cold heart of
the loan shark from Chicago. It alone is worth the trip to Yucatan and
it cannot be described; it has to be experienced at first hand.
During the month of February there is a carnival in Mérida, ending with
a fancy-dress ball for the four hundred socially elect. The carnival
rivals the Mardi Gras of New Orleans and is enthusiastically celebrated
by the whole populace. The floats and decorations are quite as costly
and tasteful as any seen in the New Orleans celebration. One year I
happened to be in Mérida at the time of the carnival and through the
kindly assistance of my good friends Mr. and Mrs. James I received
an invitation to the ball. This gorgeous affair would have compared
creditably to any similar festivity in New York.
The ball took place at the palatial home of a wealthy Yucateco. This
house is built in the usual Yucatan fashion. In front is a large
doorway guarded by a heavy wrought-iron grill or gate. On each side
of the doorway are the living-quarters, consisting of a dining-room
and what we should call a living-room. These rooms form the front of a
quadrangular structure surrounding a patio in which are flower beds,
fountains, and tiled walks. Around the inner wall of the quadrangle is
a promenade wide enough for several people to walk abreast and this
is roofed over, the tile roof being supported by pillars and arches
of Moorish type. The wings and rear section of the house contain the
chambers for the family and guests, the kitchen, and the servants’
quarters. I imagine that this particular residence had cost not much
less than a million dollars. The interior is finished in Italian marble
and luxuriously furnished in the Parisian manner.
And this is by no means the most palatial residence in the capital.
The wealthy people of Yucatan spend much of their time in Europe and
their homes show the effect. The houses have beautiful tiled floors and
the walls are frequently frescoed or covered with excellent paintings;
yet as a rule the rooms are somewhat bare of furniture. One building
particularly worthy of mention is the most ancient in Mérida, erected
in 1549 by Don Francisco Montejo, the Spanish conqueror of Yucatan. On
its façade is a grotesque Indian-Moorish representation of two armored
knights trampling on prostrate Indians, while below is a stone tablet
bearing the name of Montejo and the date of building.
Recently an American club was started in the city, with a membership
of several Americans, three or four Britons, and the remainder
Yucatecos who speak English; and some do speak it fluently. The club
is predominantly masculine, as the only ladies who attend are those
who have lived at some time or other in the States and have acquired
our customs. As a rule the women of Yucatan observe the old Spanish
custom of seclusion. Girls are not permitted to go out with young men.
A girl’s lover may spend the evening standing before the barred window
of his inamorata’s home, conversing with her and strumming upon his
mandolin or guitar for her edification. If he is finally accredited as
a suitor, he is permitted to enter the house and sit in a stiff-backed
chair across the room from his sweetheart, but Mamma and Auntie and
all the other ladies of the family are there, too, to insure decorous
behavior.
The population of Yucatan is chiefly composed of the native Indians or
Mayas. They are simple, kindly people and capable of development, for
they are highly intelligent. To the best of our knowledge they are the
direct descendants of the early Mayas, who in culture and achievements
compare favorably to the people of ancient Egypt. Some of the wealthy
Yucatecos are descendants of the old Maya nobility and still retain the
original names denoting noble birth. But many descendants of Maya kings
of old are now sunk in poverty.
Most of the present-day Mayas speak a language which has developed
little from its primitive syllabic form. The Japanese, many of whom
are found in Yucatan nowadays, learn the Maya tongue easily. In fact,
many Japanese and Maya words are identical in sound, but as far as I
know they have absolutely no kindred meaning. Some theorists have even
advanced the idea that the similarity in form and construction of the
Japanese and Maya languages indicates a common prehistoric origin. But
there is scant proof of this, inasmuch as all primitive languages are
syllabic in form.
The Maya is short in stature but surprisingly sturdy. A native will
carry a load of a hundred pounds for fifteen miles without showing
signs of undue fatigue. The carrier supports the load on his back and
it is held in place with a band or strap passed around the forehead.
Occasionally the carriers stop and let down the loads, but never for
more than a few moments. An Indian porter will trot upstairs with a
trunk which an ordinary mortal could hardly budge and which, alone, he
contrives somehow to lift upon his back. I remember seeing two Indians
carry a piano, supported on poles, for a distance of two blocks, with
their customary gliding shuffle when carrying a burden. Had they at any
time fallen out of step the piano must surely have been wrecked. This
shuffle or trot is half-way between a walk and a run and it eats up
distance.
Not uncommonly the Mayas are handsome, with regular, delicate
features. Some of the young women are very beautiful, even judged by
North-American standards. They are mature at twelve years of age and,
like the women of so many races of the tropics, they wither or grow
fat at a comparatively early age. The color of the skin is about that
of a good summer coat of tan, though possibly a bit more reddish in
hue. Dress the average Maya in our mode and put him on any street in
our country and he would pass without comment. On closer inspection he
might be said to be of foreign ancestry, but certainly he would not be
mistaken for a negro.
These people, descendants of a truly great race, are decidedly superior
to all other native American peoples. Their mentality is of a fairly
high order. At first, in my visits to Yucatan, I had no knowledge of
either the Spanish or the Maya tongue and when I had only natives for
companions I was compelled to communicate with them by sign language
made up on the spur of the moment. Even in the jungle my companions
always understood my directions easily and carried them out correctly.
The ordinary, every-day dress of the native men is a pair of
white-cotton trousers ending half-way between knee and ankle. We should
have difficulty in defining them either as long or as short. The upper
garment is a short-sleeved undershirt, and the ensemble is topped off
with almost any kind of straw hat. Usually they also wear a short
blue-and-white-striped apron fastened about the waist. Wide belts are
popular—the wider the better. Frequently the men go barefoot, but
more often wear sandals, fastened with twine about the ankle, a string
passing from the front of the sole and between the first and second
toes. When working in the fields the men sometimes discard apron and
trousers, wearing only a breech-clout and hat. Sometimes they let their
hair grow long so that it falls over their faces and then even the hat
is discarded. On Sundays and feast-days the more affluent, at least,
blossom out in starched white trousers and jacket and high-heeled
wooden sandals.
The women customarily wear a _huipile_, which garment is neither a
Mother-Hubbard nor a nightgown, but belongs, evidently, to the same
genus or species. At any rate, it is sufficiently modest. It has a
slightly low neck and short sleeves and reaches half-way from the knee
to the ground. Beneath this is the _pic_, a white underskirt tied
about the waist with a draw-string. Over all is worn the rebozo, a
kind of shawl, and the native woman feels much ashamed if seen without
this useless garment. Sandals may or may not be worn. The costume is
always essentially the same. Sometimes the _huipile_ is ornately and
beautifully embroidered at the neck and on the sleeves. I am told that
a girl will spend a year in embroidering a single _huipile_ for her
hope-chest. The garment is of ancient origin and I have seen murals in
the ruined temples, painted centuries ago, which show women in just
such embroidered garments, and at work making tortillas, which are
still the main article of food in this land.
Many of the Maya women wear gorgeously embroidered sandals or slippers.
The hair is done up in a knot at the nape of the neck and tastefully
fastened with a ribbon. Gold chains with various sorts of pendants,
such as medallions of the Virgin Mary or crosses, are very popular.
Frequently the Maya belle wears several of these chains. And they
_must_ be solid gold; plated stuff or alloy may not be worn. It simply
isn’t done. In her native costume the Maya girl is very pretty and
picturesque, but in European dress she resembles only a shapeless
bundle tied in the middle.
The Mayas are all very clean; the daily bath for men, women, and
children is universal. A sort of wooden trough serves as a bath-tub as
well as the family wash-tub. The bather pours the water over his body
and makes a little water go a long way, because water must be carried
by hand, usually from a distant well. For a man, even the humblest, to
come home at the end of the day and find his bath unprepared is just
cause for a rumpus with his wife. Clean bodies and clean clothes are
characteristic of the Maya and much of the generally considered more
civilized world might well take a lesson from him in this respect.
The women stay at home and attend to their household tasks and take
care of their numerous children while the men work in the fields.
This custom is universal even among the laboring people, and it is
noteworthy because nearly everywhere else in the world both women and
men work in the fields. In fact, in many countries the man does the
most resting.
The Maya men are exceptionally fond of children and a widow with
children stands an excellent chance of finding a stepfather for her
brood. It is not uncommon for a man of twenty to marry a widow twice
his age, chiefly for the sake of a ready-made family. Incidentally, the
unmarried Maya maiden with a child or two, especially if the children
are boys, is somewhat more likely to find a husband than her virgin
sister. The fact that there may be some question as to the paternity of
her offspring is of small consequence in the eyes of her prospective
husband. But once married, she may accept no attentions from men other
than her spouse. The husband may and does shoot on sight any cavalier
found hanging around her. It used to be the custom to suspend a string
of shells near the door, and one did not enter a house without giving
due warning by shaking the string. A man did not enter at all unless
the men of the family were present.
Maya nature is that same human nature found the world over. If abused,
these people can be ugly and vengeful. Treated in a reasonably decent
manner, they are kindly, generous, hospitable, and scrupulously honest.
Personally, I have never been cheated nor overcharged by a native. I
suppose that as more and more tourists come to Yucatan the invidious
custom of fleecing the traveler will be established here as it has been
everywhere else.
As has been said, water is scarce in this land, and frequently the
women have to go long distances for even a jugful; yet they are always
willing to share their supply with any one. The wayfarer is never
turned away from their doors thirsty or hungry, even though he consume
the last drop of water or bit of food in the house.
The Indian met anywhere, in the woods or on the trail, invariably
removes his hat and voices a polite greeting. There were employed at
Chi-chen Itza, during much of Don Eduardo’s work, about one hundred
Indians. It was their pleasant habit each evening about sunset to pass
in line before the hacienda and bid us good night. The ceremony took
place as they were returning from the little near-by church,—for all
the natives at that time were good Catholics,—and we saw no more of
them until dawn, which was our hour for beginning work.
The modern Maya is devout, but he takes his religion placidly, leaving
it to his spiritual adviser to tell him what to do or believe. In
nearly every native hut is a shrine before which are dutifully observed
the articles of faith—the faith of his conquerors who took away his
galaxy of gods and substituted Catholicism.
The Maya home is built much as it was in ancient times. It usually
consists of but one large rectangular room. The foundation is of
stone held together with plaster called _zac-cab_, which means “white
earth.” The walls are of poles or of stone plastered with _zac-cab_.
The roof is peaked and thatched with straw or with stiff palm-like
leaves. The door is of wood and there is sometimes a window, barred
but without glass. A wooden cover may be inserted from within to close
this opening when desired. No matter how poor the Maya family, there is
always a flower garden in the rear of the house. If his domain is very
limited, the garden of the Maya may be reduced to what may be grown in
a large-sized Standard-Oil can.
Within, the Maya home is very simple. There are no beds as in ancient
times; the native has adopted a Spanish innovation, seeking his rest
in a hammock suspended from wooden pegs set in the wall. The hammocks
are taken down when not in use. A simple stool or two, a bench or a
chest, possibly a table, and the ever-present shrine constitute the
furniture. Not infrequently there is an American-made sewing-machine.
The kitchen is outside, in another smaller building, and the stove
consists merely of a crude stone oven or heap of stones. The bath-room
and laundry, where there is a wooden trough to hold water, also is
outdoors. At meal-times the family sits on stools about a pot or vessel
containing the pièce de résistance, and the use of fingers is not
frowned upon.
The natives not resident in the towns or cities are for the most
part employed on the haciendas, the majority of which are engaged in
the raising of henequen. A few years ago there appeared a series of
magazine articles, under some such heading as “Barbarous Mexico,”
describing in the most approved yellow-journal style the cruelty and
tyranny of the Mexican planters. I suppose there really are some
isolated cases of cruelty, but in general the treatment of native
workers by the plantation-owners leaves little to criticize. The
native is free to leave one employer to seek another. His pay is good
and he certainly is not overworked. On nearly every hacienda ample
provision is made for entertainment and the fiestas and dances so
dear to his heart. Many native families have lived and labored on
one plantation for several generations—a fair indication that they
are not ill-treated. One of the atrocities recited in the magazine
articles just mentioned was the tying of an Indian to a post, where he
was whipped severely. The whipping-post has existed, but its use was
fostered by the Indians themselves and was reserved for the habitual
drunkard or him who repeatedly abused his wife and children. Possibly a
similar course of treatment might be beneficial to some citizens of the
United States.
There was one unfortunate event, however, which reflected no credit on
the natives, but for which they were far less to blame than a certain
class of whites. Not long ago the creed of bolshevism was spread among
these poor credulous people by a Rumanian fanatic, resulting in the
murder of several plantation-owners and the burning of several estates.
A few Indians at Don Eduardo’s hacienda, who had for some time failed
to pay the slight rental required of them, became unruly and the master
ordered them to pay up or leave. In reprisal they set fire to his
house, Casa Real, and all the out-buildings, destroying many priceless
antiquities intended for an American museum of archæology. The house
has been rebuilt, but the lost treasures can never be replaced. The
Indians also drove off all Don Eduardo’s stock and took everything in
the way of valuables that was portable.
Don Eduardo, in relating his experiences as a plantation-owner, once
said:
“A certain residue of Indians were never conquered by the Spaniards,
nor have they ever been subdued by the Mexican Government; and they pay
no taxes. They are called Sublevados and I have been warned ever since
I came to Chi-chen Itza that some day the Sublevados would go on the
war-path and wipe me and my hacienda clean off the map.
“Eventually I became tired of waiting for them to visit me and enjoy
the friendly reception I had prepared for them, which included, among
other things, the fortifying of the Great Pyramid. So I decided to
make a little reconnaissance. Traveling south into their own country,
I lived for some time in their villages, where they still practise the
ancient Maya rites and incantations, even though there is a slight
veneer of Catholicism among them. Since then I have traveled many times
into the Sublevado territory; in fact, have been made a chief of the
tribe by solemn bond and ritual. I have found them a peaceful, friendly
lot of ignorant Indians, unlikely to do any harm as long as they are
left to their own devices and in their present habitat.”
The Maya is happy-go-lucky, improvident, and usually lazy. He dearly
loves a good time, a good story, and a good joke, especially if it is
of the practical variety in which the other fellow is the butt. He is
very fond of fiestas and dances.
The native dances are quite different from ours. The men and women sit
close to the walls of the hut or inclosure, sometimes on chairs but
more often on stools. On important occasions, the music is furnished
by violins, guitars, and perhaps some wind-instruments. But always
there is one musician with a long gourd containing stones, which is
shaken in time to the music, producing a hollow _chuck-a-chuck_,
_chuck-a-chuck_ sound. Sometimes the only instrument is a flageolet.
The music is always in a minor key and is without pause or period or
end. A girl—any girl—gets up and proceeds to the center of the floor,
where she shuffles about for perhaps a minute. Then from the other end
of the room some man, who may be a stranger to the girl, comes forth
and shuffles about in front of her. They do not touch each other. They
gyrate rather slowly and move in circles, always facing each other.
When either becomes weary, he or she retires and another takes up the
dance. If the room is sufficiently large there may be as many as three
couples dancing continuously in this manner. The dancers do not smile
nor appear to be enjoying the occasion; yet they must derive pleasure
from it, for throughout the country dances are held frequently.
Knowing the Mayas of to-day, and their customs, it is interesting
to follow their history back to the earliest times of which there
is authentic record, and from there, through legends and scraps of
knowledge, into their most ancient past. For four centuries we may
trace them backward through well-known history. For still another
century the record is fairly clear. Back of that is only legend, with
here and there some startling, incontrovertible fact to prove their
antiquity. The flickering light of our knowledge becomes dimmer and
dimmer. We know a date in their history about one hundred years before
Christ, but on what preceded that no feeblest ray falls to enlighten
our ignorance.
To one man, long since departed, we owe a great debt. But for him, our
knowledge of the ancient Mayas would be almost nil, and it is only by a
lucky chance that what he wrote was not lost to us. This man, Diego de
Landa, was Bishop of Yucatan (1573-79), and he came to America on the
heels of the Spanish conquerors. His manuscript,—almost our only guide
to Maya antiquity and known as “Relacion de las Cosas de Yucatan,”—lay
hidden in Madrid for nearly three hundred years ere it was discovered
and published.
To show how little the Mayas have changed in four centuries I am going
to quote from Landa, using a very free translation but endeavoring
to preserve his meaning. I hope the reader will bear in mind that the
following is a description of the Mayas of the sixteenth century and is
chiefly interesting when compared with the Mayas of to-day:
The Indians of Yucatan are well built, tall and robust. They
are generally bow-legged, because mothers customarily carry
infants astride their hips. It is considered a mark of beauty
to be cross-eyed. The heads and foreheads are flat, having been
bound in infancy. Their ears are pierced for ear-rings and are
torn by the sacrifices. The men do not have beards and it is
said the mothers burn their boys’ faces with hot cloths so that
hair does not grow. Some do have beards, but these are very
stiff, like the bristles of a pig. The men permit the hair of
the head to grow long except on top, where they burn it off.
Thus the hair of the crown is short, but the remainder is long
and is braided and wound like a wreath around the head, leaving
a small tail in the back as tassels or tufts.
Their dress is a strip of cloth about as wide as a hand and
wound several times about the waist, with one end hanging in
front and the other in the back. The women adorn these ends
curiously with feathers. They wear large square blankets, which
they fasten to their shoulders, and sandals of hemp or deerskin.
They bathe a great deal and do not try to hide their nudity
from the women, except with their hands. The men use mirrors
and the women do not. The expression for cuckoldom is that the
wife has put the mirror in her husband’s hair above the occiput.
Their houses are roofed with straw or palm-leaves and the roof
has a considerable slant. They put a wall lengthwise through
the middle of the house and in it some doors. In the back half
are the beds and the other section is whitewashed and is the
reception room for guests. This room is like a porch, the whole
front being open and without a door. The roof over this part of
the house extends well down over the walls, to keep out sun
and rain. The common people build the houses of the chiefs and
house-breaking is considered a grave crime. Beds are made of
small rods with a mat and cotton blankets on top. In summer the
men especially sleep in the open room or porch, on mats.
All the people unite in cultivating the fields of the chief
and supplying food to his household. In hunting, fishing, or
bringing salt, a share is always given to the chief. If the
chief dies he is succeeded by his eldest son, but his other
descendants are respected and helped. The subordinate chiefs
help in all things, according to their stations. The priests
live from their offices and from the offerings given to them.
The chiefs rule the town, settle disputes, and govern all
affairs. The principal chiefs travel a great deal and take much
company with them. They visit rich people, where they arrange
the affairs of the villages, transacting their principal
business at night.
The Indians tattoo their bodies, believing that they become
more valiant thereby. The process is painful, as the designs
are painted on the body and then pricked in with a small
poniard. Because of the pain the tattooing is done only a
little at a time, and also because the tattooed part becomes
inflamed and matterated, causing sickness. Those who are not
tattooed are ridiculed. The natives like to be flattered and
they like to imitate the Castilian graces and customs and
to eat and drink as we do. They are fond of sweet odors and
employ bouquets of flowers and sweet-smelling herbs. They are
accustomed to paint their faces and bodies red, which does not
improve their appearance but which they consider beautifying.
They are very dissolute in getting drunk, from which follow
many evils such as murder, arson, rape and incest.... They
are fond of recreation, especially of dances and of plays
containing many jokes and witticisms. They sometimes become
servants for a time in a Spanish household just to absorb
the conversation and customs and these are later artfully
represented in native plays.
Their musical instruments are small kettle-drums played with
the hand and another drum made of hollow wood, played with
a wooden stick containing on the end a ball made of the milk
of a certain tree [rubber]. They have long, slender trumpets
fashioned from hollow sticks with gourds fastened at one end.
Another instrument is made from a whole turtle-shell, which is
played with the palm of the hand and emits a melancholy sound.
They have whistles and flutes of reed or bones of the deer and
from large snail-shells. These instruments are played for their
war-dances. One of these dances is called _co-lom-che_, meaning
reed. A large circle of men is formed. Two go into the center.
One has a handful of darts and while dancing in an upright
position he casts the darts with all his strength at the second
dancer, who dances in a squatting position, from which he
deftly catches each dart with a small stick. After the darts
are all thrown, these two dancers return to their original
places in the circle and two new dancers advance to the center
and repeat the dart-throwing. There is another war-dance in
which about eight hundred men take part. They carry flags and
the tempo is slow. They dance the whole day without stopping
and during the whole day not one man gets out of step. In no
case do the men dance with the women.
There are many occupations but the people most incline toward
trading, taking salt, clothing, and slaves to the lands of Ulna
and Tabasco, where they exchange for cocoa and counters of
stone which are their money. With these coins they buy slaves,
or the chiefs wear them as jewels at feasts. They have other
counters and jewelry made of certain shells. These are carried
in purses made of network. In the markets are all manner of
goods. They loan money without usury and pay their debts with
good-will. Some Indians are potters and carpenters who are
well paid for the idols of wood and clay which they make.
There are surgeons—or, rather, wizards—who cure with herbs
and incantations. Above all, there are laborers and those who
plant and gather the corn and other produce which they store in
granaries to be sold in season. They have no mules or oxen.
The Indians have the good custom of helping one another in
all their work. In working the land they do nothing from the
middle of January to April except gather manure and burn it.
Then come the rains and they plant the fields, using a small
pointed stick to poke holes into the ground in each of which
they deposit five or six seeds which grow very rapidly in this
rainy season. They also congregate in groups of about fifty for
hunting or fishing.
When going on a visit, the Indian takes a present to his host
and the host gives the guest a present of proportionate value.
They are generous and hospitable. They give food and drink to
all who come to their houses.
They take much pride in their lineage, especially if they are
descendants of some ancient family of Mayapan and they boast of
the distinguished men who have been of their family. The whole
name of the father is always borne by his sons, but not by
his daughters. But the children, both sons and daughters, are
called by the compound names of father and mother, in which the
name of the father is the given name and that of the mother the
surname. Thus the son of Chel and Chan would be Na-Chan-Chel,
which means son of Chel by his wife Chan. A stranger coming to
a village, especially if he be poor, will be received in all
kindness by any family of his name. Men and women of the same
name do not marry, for this is considered very wrong.