CHAPTER V_The City of the Sacred Well

THE ANCIENT CITY

“I arose cautiously, expecting to find an ache in every bone and

muscle, and was agreeably surprised to discover myself without an ache

or a pain, though a little stiff. Apparently the hot sun had baked

all pains away. In a shady place near by sat my Indian, not sleeping,

apparently not even thinking, but just doing nothing at all, an art in

which he was an adept.

“I was conscious of an earnest desire for two things,—a bath and

breakfast,—and I wanted a great deal of both. Without much difficulty,

in sign language, I made my wishes clear to the native and he conducted

me a distance of half a mile or so, not to the Sacred Well but to

another well or cenote called Tol-oc, which is about two hundred feet

to the left of the road leading to the village of Pisté. How he knew so

definitely the location of the well is a mystery to me.

“This great cool, crystal-clear pool was the water-supply of the

ancient city. A wide flight of steps, now much broken, leads into

its depths and the lower steps are at present actually some distance

beneath the surface of the water. On the stone rim of the sides of the

pool are deep grooves, worn in olden times by the ceaseless raising and

lowering of rope-suspended water-jugs or gourds. And can’t you picture

the women of old Chi-chen Itza in a constant stream passing from dawn

till dusk along the road to the well of Tol-oc?—the servant glad

to escape for a time the sharp tongue of her mistress; the wrinkled,

toothless crone to whom a trip to the well means an opportunity to

exchange the latest gossip; the comely young matron anxious to get back

to her household tasks; the belle of the neighborhood, on her way to

the well, light-heartedly swinging her empty water-jug and bantering

those who pass. This is a phase of life as old as communal existence.

One may see the same scene enacted to-day almost anywhere south of the

Rio Grande or in Spain, Egypt, or the Orient.

“As I swam about in the pool fresh vigor flowed into my veins, and I

emerged with an increased craving for breakfast. When I reached the

hacienda I found my Indian had anticipated this and while the repast

he provided might not have appealed to a pampered appetite, I found it

a Lucullian feast; and my guide proved no mean trencherman, either,

although I suspect he had fortified himself with no less heartening a

meal two hours earlier, when he found me asleep.

“While he performed the housewifely task of doing the dishes, which

consisted of throwing away the big green leaves we used as plates, I

sat in the shade of a magnificent old _yax-che_—the sacred tree of

the Mayas—and puffed my favorite and most disreputable pipe. Sitting

somewhere in the shade around Chi-chen Itza is the most pleasant

occupation in the universe, for there is a perpetual breeze and no

matter how hot the sun, one is always cool and comfortable in the

shade. Sitting thus is the favorite and major occupation of the native,

and the white man can very easily acquire the habit.

“As I sat there, at peace with the world, my experiences of the

previous night seemed unreal—the fantasmagoria of a fevered dream and,

much as I enjoyed this shady spot where I sat, the ancient city called

me.

“Taking the Indian with me, I returned to make a superficial

examination of the place. My newly acquired estate of about thirty-six

square miles included the abandoned, dilapidated manor, corrals, and

other buildings. And within its boundaries lie the Sacred Well and

all of the ancient ruins and temples that are still standing, not to

mention many others which are now covered with debris. It also includes

several Indian villages. Chi-chen Itza is really two cities. The more

ancient is overgrown by a thick forest and its location is indicated

only by an occasional grassy, thicket-covered mound out of which grow

great trees and whose sides are covered with scattered carved stones.

The newer city is clearly defined by the buildings which are still

standing. The whole, including the older and the newer city, covers an

area of about twelve square miles.

“There is no apparent plan in the situation of the various structures,

although most of them are arranged in such a way that their openings

avoid the direct rays of the sun at midday. The city was built in this

location because of the two great wells and the lesser one, which I

am sure are not the work of men, although they may have been altered

or enlarged. In all probability there were no definite and continuous

streets; with the exception of the Via Sacra or Sacred Way, there is

little or no evidence of what might be called a city street.

“I reason that there was little need for streets, because there were no

beasts of burden, nor vehicular traffic. Loads were transported upon

the backs of men, just as they are largely transported at the present

time. The ancient builders did construct very good narrow, ballasted

stone roads which led into Chi-chen Itza from various directions, but

they were roads for human feet to travel. Surely the architects of

these wonderful buildings; these people who knew much of astronomy and

who could count into prodigious figures had the intelligence to lay

out their cities in blocks and squares if any particular advantage or

convenience were to be gained thereby!

“The only evident plan is that the present buildings, which are temples

and perhaps palaces for the kings and those of high religious or noble

rank, are centrally located. Beyond these for miles about are the

remains of small rectangular foundations, evidently the sites of what

were once the dwelling-places of the large population of the city.

“In the area which I designate as new Chi-chen Itza are twelve

buildings in an almost perfect state of preservation, as though built

no more than twenty or thirty years ago. Ten of them are still covered

with their original ponderous stone roofs and are entirely habitable.

These structures alone might house a considerable population. I have

lived for months at a time in one or another of them and have found

them to be delightfully comfortable and cool. Indeed, these elevated

Maya temples are the most ideal living-quarters, much to be preferred

to the usual house built upon level ground. Although they contain no

windows, they are well lighted by the reflected sunlight striking

through the doorways upon the white limestone floors.

“Passing across what is now a lovely flower garden in the rear of my

home,—which is no other than the building in whose broken corridor I

spent my first night,—my guide and I came at no great distance upon

a rise of ground where are situated two most interesting groups of

buildings. The first one, a massive structure on our right, bears the

curious name Akab Tzib, ‘House of the Writing in the Dark.’ It is one

of the few buildings which has no sub-base or plinth of artificially

heaped earth or stone to give it elevation. It is built upon the

natural ground-level, which, however, is somewhat higher at this point

than the surrounding terrain. And it stands sheer on the edge of a

depression in the ground some four hundred feet across.

“It is possible that this depression represents the site of an ancient

quarry from which the stone for the building of the city was taken,

or it may be simply a natural hollow caused by the caving in of the

soft limestone surface rock. The front of Akab Tzib stretches a

distance of one hundred and seventy-six feet and in depth the building

is forty-eight feet. The structure is low, the façade rising only

to a height of eighteen feet. The walls, however, are capable of

withstanding a siege. They are of great thickness and constructed of

perfectly joined rectangular stones, the surfaces of which are dressed

and polished to smoothness. The expanse of the west wall is broken by

a shallow recess in the center which divides the wall into three equal

sections, with the middle section recessed or offset by a depth of

about three feet.

“This central part is pierced by three square-cut doorways. John L.

Stephens, who visited the temple more than eighty years ago, says that

in the middle section of the interior was a great stairway that led to

the roof. It has since collapsed and is now but a heap of stones and

dust. Apparently it was about forty-five feet wide. Knowing the Maya

custom, which was common, of erecting one structure on top of another,

we may surmise that this stairway was probably a sort of flying arch

and intended as a means of reaching a second temple to be built on top

of the low, massive-walled Akab Tzib. For some unknown reason the upper

temple was never erected. Many interesting theories have been advanced

as to why the architects abandoned their original plan. On each side

of what was once the stairway are doors leading into chambers. Besides

these entrances there are seven handsome doorways along the western

façade of the building. In all, there are eighteen rooms or apartments.

“The whole massive structure is an unsolved mystery. Over the doorway

of a small, dim chamber in the southeastern part of the building is

a carved lintel on which is depicted in bas-relief the seated figure

of a priest or a god, wearing a feathered head-dress and with a long

nose-plug protruding from the nostrils. The figure is seated on a

throne and holds in its hand the ceremonial _caluac_ or baton of rank.

In front of the figure, at its feet, is a graceful brazier containing

what was probably a burnt offering of some sort—copal or incense. On

each side of this well-carved picture are double rows of hieroglyphs,

the meaning of which is unknown. There are no other carvings, glyphs,

or pictures in the entire building. This fact is hard to understand,

because these ancient builders usually inscribed every available

surface. In one room is a large depression in the floor, and in the

center of the building is what appears to be a solid mass of masonry

forty-four by thirty feet and reaching clear to the ceiling. Perhaps it

contains hidden and secret chambers; that remains to be found out.

“Of one thing, however, I am reasonably sure: the carved lintel was

not inscribed nor originally designed for its present position, but

was taken bodily from some earlier structure, probably one of the now

leveled temples of the older Chi-chen Itza. It represents the period

of the highest Mayan art, which occurred before the domination of the

Nahuatls, who swept down from the north some centuries later. I believe

this building was not erected until after the abandonment of Chi-chen

Itza, the long residence at Chan Kan Putun, the return to Chi-chen

Itza, and the enslavement of the Mayas by the Nahuatls. Very likely it

is the most recently built of all the present monuments in the city,

and the one carved piece in it, the lintel, was taken from an older

building without reference to the significance of the glyphs. From this

lintel is derived the name of the temple, for Akab Tzib means literally

‘House of the Writing in the Dark.’

“Leaving Akab Tzib, we walk for the distance of a city block or so

through dense shrubbery and over an old stone fence, built perhaps

eighty years ago, and come to a most interesting building called La

Casa de las Monjas or the Nunnery. It is what might be called rambling,

yet is of exquisite architectural harmony and richly ornamented, in

utter contrast to the building we have just left. It is one of the

most wonderfully carved edifices of this old civilization to be found

anywhere in Yucatan. It spreads out for an eye-filling distance of two

hundred and twenty-eight feet, the center part of the huge pile rising

for nearly ninety feet, in three separate tiers, each smaller than the

one below it. Stretching away on each side of this center portion are

one- and two-story annexes.

[Illustration: The Nunnery, the only three-storied structure in the

Sacred City.]

[Illustration: The second story of the Nunnery.]

[Illustration: 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.]

“How well its name fits this grimly beautiful old building is a matter

of conjecture. We know that the Maya priesthood was dominant in all

matters and that the lives of the people seem to have been governed by

a constant devotion to their pantheon of gods and especially to the

all-great Kukul Can. Their ceremonies were numerous and elaborate.

Doubtless there were many priests and perhaps priestesses. Long

training must have been required in the amazing and intricate rituals.

And the ancient historians relate that it was the custom to sequester

certain girls or women belonging to religious orders. It is not

unlikely that this vast building of many rooms and annexes, which seems

more fitted to be a place of residence than a temple, may have been

the abode of Mayan monks or nuns, or possibly a training school for

novitiates. Some believe it to have been the king’s palace.

“Not the least perplexing thing about La Casa de las Monjas is the

plain evidence that what now meets our eyes as a symmetrical whole

is, in fact, the result of several different periods of building. The

principal structure has been built in stages—for all the world as a

swallow year after year builds one nest on top of the previous one.

And the annexes evidently were built at various times, as the need for

them arose. The whole base of the building is buried in debris, which

detracts from the true and lovely lines of the architecture. I have

excavated a trench part-way around, to clear out this rubbish, and

the trench reveals the fact that La Casa de las Monjas has served as a

dwelling-place for many people, or that many lived near by even long

after the place had lost its sacred significance and its very name and

purpose were no longer known.

“Without danger of contradiction, I think we may in fancy reconstruct

this Nunnery, in the order of its building. The first structure was

a single, rectangular unit about one hundred feet in length. A later

builder caused it to be entirely filled with great stones and rubble

and cement, so that it formed a solid base or foundation. More masonry

was then erected to the same height, on three sides, to enlarge this

base area, and upon the whole was erected a building ninety feet long

and one third as wide, leaving a flat promenade twenty-five feet wide

all around, from which there is a delightful view of the surrounding

country. We have dug through the masonry of the sub-structures and

into the old, original building which was filled in with stone-work

to provide a support for the later and upper buildings, so that our

theories are substantiated that far at least.

“To reach the second structure, whose floor is thirty-four feet

above-ground, a great stone stairway of forty steps was erected, up

which twenty men might march abreast. If they were men of our day they

must surely come tumbling down again, for the steps are each nine

inches high but with very narrow treads, built for bare-footed or

sandaled folk and not for clodhopper boots or shoes.

“A third and still smaller structure—now little more than a jumble

of stones, except for a part of one façade and a doorway—was built

atop the second temple and served by another grand and steep stairway,

a continuation of the first. This topmost temple was rich in carved

stones, taken, in all probability, from the oft-ravaged older city.

The various annexes were built on to or adjacent to the first and

largest building. All this the reader will see from the illustrations

opposite page 65 and page 69. The custom of enlarging Maya temples by

such methods as just described was not uncommon. Perhaps it indicated

growing power or population. Surely it indicated long residence.

“The main building, constituting the second story, has five doorways on

the south side and one doorway at each end, and contains many chambers

and intercommunicating doorways. The end rooms extend clear across

the building. The central rooms are long and narrow, each with three

doorways. There are also very many shallow alcoves, scarcely more than

niches, which may have contained idols or scrolls—some say books. The

center portion is solid masonry, which originally may have contained

apartments later filled with stone to provide support for the third

story.

“The entire rambling structure is ornamented with symbolistic carvings

and murals in a profusion of designs, many of them of matchless

beauty in inspiration and execution. The façade of the main building

is twenty-five feet in height, with two handsome stone cornices

extending its whole length. The eastern façade in particular is crowded

with ornamentation. The dominant motif is the face of the god Kukul

Can—symbolic masks with upturned snouts which some observers have

called ‘elephant trunks.’ The same masks are seen again and again in

all these old ruins, but in many cases the projecting snouts have been

broken off by vandals; indeed, a special zeal has at some time been

devoted to this particular destruction. Linking the masks and carrying

the whole in a carefully planned and balanced decorative series are

geometrical designs and figures. Above the broad band of the upper

cornice and carved in deep relief are geometrical stone screens not

inferior to those of the Moors or of India.

“Over the main doorway are two bands of small, undeciphered

hieroglyphs, above which project six bold and gracefully curved

ornaments. From them, we may imagine, once hung a costly curtain, heavy

with embroidery. And still higher above the doorway, interrupting the

geometrical sculptures of the whole façade, is a horseshoe-shaped

frame within which may still be seen a badly defaced seated figure

with feathered head-dress. The lintels over the classic doorways are

of huge perfectly cut and polished stones, each bearing a multiplicity

of clear-cut glyphs which, like many things in this City of the Sacred

Well, tenaciously hold their secrets.

“The Nunnery stands a monument of grace and beauty whose charm is

at once evident to any beholder, and doubly so to him who perceives

how closely in every line and dimension, yet how subtly, it accords

with our modern ideas and rules of good design. But nowhere else

in the world is there anything like it. Unique, distinctive, it is

characteristic only of this ancient culture. The cut facing page 65,

representing one of the best of my many photographic attempts, tells

all that a photograph can, but it cannot begin to convey the beauty

of this masterpiece. In the great main hall were once many colorful

paintings upon the walls and ceilings, still indicated by bits of color

here and there or by an interrupted broad band of black or red. And in

the various rooms were paintings, nearly all now obliterated. They seem

to have reached quite lately their critical age, for many that were

almost perfect as recently as twenty years ago are faded or chipped

now. In a few years they will be gone forever, and for this reason I

have taken pains to obtain the most faithful possible copies of all of

them. These Maya paintings represent several periods of culture. Some

are childishly crude. Many are of an excellence of line and balance

and color not inferior to the best of modern art. Some even are drawn

in a most pleasingly free and sketchy manner which so exquisitely

portrays an idea without unnecessary detail that one almost expects

to see scrawled in the lower right hand corner the signature of some

well-known modern artist.

“The eastern or ground-level portion of the added basic structure

contains many rooms entered by way of six wide outer doorways.

“Near the main building are two smaller detached ones, the more

interesting being known as the Iglesia or Church. It is small in

comparison with the bulk of La Casa de las Monjas, being but twenty-six

feet long, half as wide, and thirty-two feet high. It has three

cornices and the principal decoration consists of two seated human

figures over the doorway. Hardly a square inch of its surface is

undecorated. Formerly it was stuccoed, or plastered, and painted. Much

of the original color still clings to the crevices and interstices of

its carved walls and it is evident that new layers of stucco were added

from time to time and new paint in appropriate colors. Such layers of

stucco and color may be seen where the stone has been chipped, with the

colors sometimes varying from those of the early coats.

“The carvings again portray the mask of Kukul Can, with interlinking

geometrical designs. A single doorway gives access to the interior,

once rich in murals, and the bright sunshine striking upon the white

floor floods the whole room with clear light. Close to the ceiling are

traces of a row of medallions which originally contained hieroglyphs.

“Another building of about the same size is similarly finished and

decorated with the mask of Kukul Can. It contains several small rooms.

The entire wall of one apartment has been removed, by not very ancient

builders, for the prosaic purpose of making a stone fence. In passing I

might mention also that a good-sized pit has been made near one side of

the grand stairway of La Casa de las Monjas, it being easier to get cut

stone in this way than to quarry it.

“No great amount of labor would be required to put this group of

buildings in nearly its pristine condition. Nearly all the stones that

have fallen lie where they fell and could easily be replaced. Near

the grand stairway lie many sculptured images of serpents, birds, and

animals, of massive size and carved in full relief. These formed the

balustrade and might be replaced even though some are missing. I have

no doubt that when the debris at the base of the buildings is removed

new archæological treasures will be revealed.

“As an interesting bit of authentic history, the main building was

occupied by the soldiers of Montejo, who were besieged there by the

enraged native populace. They escaped by night, through the rear of the

buildings, by means of a ruse. The besiegers did not discover until

dawn that the enemy had fled many hours before.

“Just when one decides that there is nothing new to surprise him,

in this old city, he comes upon something else to puzzle his brain,

spurring his curiosity into vain excursions after the why and wherefore

of it all.

“We leave the unexplainable Casa de las Monjas and, walking westward

less than a hundred yards, stand before the Caracol or Snail-shell,

which is entirely unlike any other building in the City of the Sacred

Well or in all of Yucatan. This curious structure, we imagine, was

either a watch-tower or an astronomical observatory—though it may have

served a quite different purpose. It is round and built on a terrace

two hundred feet square of cut stone, twenty feet in height. Above

this is a second stone terrace, twelve feet high. These terraces have

sheer vertical sides, but much fallen stone and debris have gathered

about them. From the west a stairway forty-five feet wide leads to the

first terrace; it was once bordered with great stone balusters in the

form of tremendous entwined serpents, their heads on the ground, their

bodies forming the balustrade and ending at the top in rattles. The

same sort of device is found again and again in Maya architecture. A

second similar stairway leads to the upper terrace and the door of the

building. A projecting ornamented cornice caps each terrace.

“At the top of the second stairway was once some large object which

Stephens thought was an idol, and here was uncovered a hieroglyphed

monument bearing the longest inscription yet found in the city. The

round tower is forty feet in diameter and forty feet high, with two

concentric walls, each two and a half feet thick. The inner wall

incloses a circular chamber at the center of which is a core of small

diameter, solid except for a winding stairway at its center, extending

from the ground-level to the height of the double walls. There is

also a passage, now almost obliterated, piercing the lower terrace and

connecting with this winding stairway. The building at the top of the

double walls has a deep-jutting five-tiered cornice above which rises

another and smaller single-walled tower, surrounded by a promenade or

ledge, not unlike the balcony of a lighthouse, at the height of the

cornice.

“The space between the outer and the inner wall provides an arched

chamber five feet wide and one hundred feet in circumference. The inner

chamber also is arched and is eight feet wide. The usual Maya arch

construction is employed, the arch beginning at a height of ten feet

and being about twenty-four feet at the peak. The upper ruined tower,

about twenty feet high, contained a stone-lined passage facing due

west which might have been used as a line of sight for astronomical

observations.

“The outer walls are pierced by four openings—windows or doorways,

whichever they may have been—corresponding to the four points of the

compass. Similar openings occur in the inner wall but, curiously, they

are exactly forty-five degrees out of line with the openings in the

outer wall. One of the most novel features in the construction are

the many wooden beams placed horizontally between the inner and outer

shells of masonry. As these are set in the masonry, it is evident that

they are an original and integral part of the building, probably put

there to help support the stone-work during construction. Many have

stood the test of time and are still stanch and firm. They are hewn

from the famous sapote tree, whose wood of steel-like hardness alone

could have endured through the centuries. There is no ornamentation

within the building, nor upon its walls, and the construction is pure

Maya except that it is round where all else is square.

“The curious edifice is on high ground and its construction leads

inevitably to the idea of a watch-tower. Its builders knew in their

time quite as much about astronomy as did any contemporary race—if

not more. The periods of sun, moon, and planets they knew with great

accuracy. For these reasons I like to think that their priests and

sages came to this tower, making divinations from the stars and

laboriously charting their positions and courses. Possibly they were

panic-stricken by an occasional eclipse of moon or sun, which they

called _chi-bal-kin_, ‘the moon or sun devoured by serpents or other

beings.’

“But perhaps this tower was no more than a military precaution, a

place where solitary watchers by day and night constantly scanned

the horizon. Maybe it was merely the local police station or fire

department from which could be seen any undue disturbance or the

outbreak of a conflagration. I shall leave it to you to make your own

conclusions, which may be quite as near to or as far from the actual

fact as my own, over which I have puzzled backward and forward for many

years.

“To the north a distance of four hundred feet is the so-called Red

House, or Chich-an Chob, the latter name meaning ‘strong, clean house.’

The name Red House is derived from the fact that the antechamber or

vestibule across the front of the building has a broad painted band of

red running about its four walls. This is the best-preserved building

of all my city; scarcely a stone is missing. Its four walls face

exactly the four points of the compass; its main entrance is in the

western wall, while the eastern wall is unbroken. It now rises from a

lovely grassy terrace, slightly sloping from the vertical and about

twelve feet high by sixty feet long, faced with large stone blocks

and having rounded corner stones at each of the four sloping edges

of the pyramidal form. Extending around the top of the terrace is a

regular Maya cornice, or projecting coping. Approaching the western

entrance is a stone stairway, twenty feet wide, of sixteen high and

shallow cut-stone steps—a staircase as distinctly Mayan as the mask

of Kukul Can. And this stairway is as perfect to-day as the day it was

finished, not a stone out of place or broken. It seems incredible that

it could have lain there so many centuries at the mercy of the tropical

wilderness and of passing vandals and have suffered not at all.

“Chich-an Chob deceives one at first glance, seeming to rise to a

stately height because of its twenty-eight foot façade. The roof,

however, is but twenty feet above the floor. The false front is

nevertheless very lovely, being made of stone latticework which

skilfully weaves with geometrical designs the ever-present elongated

masks of the great Kukul Can, with the upturned snouts unbroken.

The construction throughout is pure Mayan of the highest period,

typical of many buildings seen in the southern part of Yucatan and

particularly at Palenque. Three square-cut, high doorways give access

to a shallow vestibule running the length of the building. Back of

this is a wall with three more doorways, each opening into a separate

chamber. A frieze of hieroglyphs cut in the stones somewhat above the

doors completely encircles the walls of the vestibule. All of the

interior walls are plastered and painted and have been replastered and

repainted many times. The outer walls up to the stone latticework are

quite plain, the cornices or moldings are unadorned, and except for the

absence of pillars it could pass for a gem of Doric architecture. Its

very simplicity is a pleasing contrast to the Nunnery; yet it is no

less distinctly Mayan.

“Two hundred feet beyond Chich-an Chob is a level terrace, or pyramid,

sixty-four feet square, which supports a small three-chambered temple

with an entrance to the south. One end has fallen in, but two of the

chambers are in good repair. This temple, so far as I know, is nameless

and at present is of no special interest. Clustered near by, to the

right, are several smaller pyramids whose buildings are merely heaped

ruins. Some of these contain tombs. Probably all were burial-places of

great men. The principal pyramid of this group contains the tomb of the

high priest and it is the scene of one of my most thrilling adventures.”

The story of the exploration of the high priest’s tomb, alluded to by

Don Eduardo, is very interesting and will be related in another chapter.

In about the center of the City of the Sacred Well is El Castillo,

whose imposing bulk is by far the greatest of all of the silent old

structures of this ancient metropolis. Don Eduardo has told us that

this huge pile struck him speechless when he came upon it suddenly in

the moonlight upon his first introduction to Chi-chen Itza. He is not

the only one who has been struck dumb by the first sight of the rugged

and beautiful temple, high and huge above its surroundings. Coming back

from the States one year, I made the acquaintance, on the boat, of a

middle-aged American and his charming daughter, who with some others

composed a small party bound for Mérida, the capital of Yucatan. As I

had been to Chi-chen Itza many times, I naturally, in my talk with this

gentleman, was enthusiastic over the idea of showing him the ruined

city, and finally the whole party decided to go there. We arrived at

the little town of Dzitas, where the gentlemen on horseback, I on an

ambling mule, and the rest in _volans_ set out for the City of the

Well. All the way the members of the party took turns in joking me

about my pet city and my stories concerning it. I was in every sense

the tail of the procession, as my mule had decided ideas of its own,

as mules have, and would travel no faster than a slow walk; but the

rest of the party were not traveling on a bed of roses and there was

no unwillingness to stop and wait for me while they composed ironical

witticisms.

When we came near to Chi-chen Itza I ranged my mule alongside the

gentleman who was leader in the heckling. I did this knowing that we

would travel almost to the Great Pyramid of El Castillo and then, at a

sharp turn to the right, view it completely and suddenly.

My friend was in the middle of another verbal dig when the sight smote

him. His mouth simply remained open. I have not yet heard the last of

his apologies for his previous jesting remarks and I find my revenge

very sweet.

The pyramid, or terrace, on which El Castillo stands is two hundred

feet square and rises to a height of seventy-five or eighty feet. The

exact height is rather difficult to measure because of the debris at

the bottom. The top of the terrace has a level surface, or platform,

sixty feet square, upon which stands the temple. The four sides of the

pyramid rise steeply at an angle of fifty degrees and the pyramid is

terraced, each terrace being nine feet high, with a narrow horizontal

offset. The rises are faced with cut stone beautifully paneled. Each of

the four pyramid faces is vertically bisected by a wide stone stairway

more gentle in its incline than the angle of the pyramid itself but

still very long and steep. The stairs start at the top flush with the

ledge upon which the temple stands and draw away farther and farther,

as they descend, from the plane of the pyramid face, with an increasing

ratio of projection so that at the bottom they project an appreciable

distance beyond the pyramid base. Thus the stairways pleasingly break

the monotony of line—which is good art and good architecture. Like all

Maya stairways, they have narrow treads and high risers.

The cult of Kukul Can, indicated everywhere in the City of the Sacred

Well, nowhere attains so overshadowing an importance as here in this

vast temple. Each of the four corners of the pyramid is bounded by the

huge undulating body of a stone serpent, extending from the ground

clear to the top of the pyramid. Each undulation of the serpent’s body

marks a terrace or gradient and to lift a single stone section of one

of these mammoth serpents would be a task for a dozen men. Everywhere

on the horizontal levels of the terraces springs up each year a thick

growth of grasses as high as a tall man’s head.

The principal stairway, facing the north, is guarded at the base by

two huge heads of feathered serpents, jaws open, fangs displayed,

and forked tongues extended. And each of these heads, excepting only

the forked tongue, is hewn from a single solid block of stone, with

every crotalic detail perfectly carved. The bodies belonging to these

serpent heads, conventionalized into two broad, flat bands, extend up

the mound, one on each side of the stairway, to the principal entrance

of the temple. On the narrow platform and forming the main doorway of

this holy of holies are two more immense monolithic serpent heads,

now partially destroyed. They are used as pillars trisecting into

three parts the great forty-foot doorway. The conventionalized and

foreshortened head of the serpent forms the base of the column and the

foreshortened tail forms the capital which is, in its own way, no less

a worthy architectural creation than the Greek Corinthian column, with

its capital of acanthus leaves.

The triply vaulted ceiling rests upon great sapote beams supported by

three-foot-thick walls and massive square-faced, paneled stone pillars.

This sapote wood, called _ya_ by the natives, is dark red in color and

turns chocolate brown with age and exposure. It is nearly as heavy

as iron and is very hard. In many ways it resists the action of the

tropical elements better than metal, and insects seem to produce no

effect upon its adamantine surface. These beams are wondrously carved

and with few exceptions have faithfully sustained the tremendous weight

of stone put upon them. Only a few have broken with age, so that but

a part of the façade of the temple has fallen. For a thousand years,

at least, they have stood and at the time of the Conquest in 1540 they

were in much the same condition in which we now find them.

In front of the main doorway originally stood a great stone table

with an intricately carved surface. It was supported by curious

Atlantean stone figures and some of these strange male caryatids were

bearded. Other figures on piers and columns within the temple also are

bearded—with one exception the only bearded figures portrayed in this

whole city which was inhabited by a beardless race. Close examination

shows, however, that the carved figures wear masks and it is the masks

which are bearded. This fact only enhances the mystery, pointing to the

possibility of a still more ancient past and of ritualistic traditions

so remote in their beginnings that all memory of their original meaning

has faded and only the ritual or empty shell remains of what was once

living fact. Analogous are some of the archaic Greek rituals and

Druidical rites.

Who were the prototypes of these bearded figures? Were they the

mysterious, blue-eyed, fair-skinned people clad in armor who were

supposed to have once landed at Tamoclan near Tampico? Norsemen? Or

were they the old Atlanteans whose country Plato says “sank in one day

and one night beneath the waves of the ocean”?

Of the many marvelous carvings and paintings in this temple I shall say