Description of Merida, Geographical and Historical—The City—Public
Squares—The Market—Trade—Habits and Customs—Health—The Public
Buildings—A way to get a Husband—New Year Eve—New Year Day—The City
and Environs—A Touch of Music—A Country Seat—Congress of
Yucatan—Franciscan Ruins—More Holy-days—Cock-fighting—A Drill—The
Bishop at Home—The College—Miracles.
Merida, the capital of Yucatan, is situated about the twenty-first
degree of north latitude, and is elevated some twenty-five feet above
the level of the sea. The thermometer ranges at about eighty of
Fahrenheit, and the maximum length of the days is nearly thirteen hours.
The city was built upon the ruins of an Indian town, which was destroyed
by the Spaniards in their superstitious zeal, so madly manifested in the
destruction of every thing throughout Mexico that was found belonging to
the people whom they had conquered. The present population is calculated
at twenty thousand, the majority of whom are Indians and half-breeds.
The city was founded in 1542. From the few scattered facts which have
been handed down to us by history, we gather that, prior to the Spanish
conquest, there existed in Yucatan a people of an origin remote and
unknown, who were under the subjection of rulers, with fixed principles
of law and order; had passed through the ordinary vicissitudes of
nations, and finished their career by losing, at once, their liberty and
their dominions. The triumphant forces of the Spaniards having obtained
full possession of the country, the Church came in to execute its part;
and their language, manners, customs, and religion, were disseminated by
the steady and persevering arm of Catholic power and management. To
complete the work, every thing that had a tendency to remind the
vanquished of the past was obliterated, in accordance with the
grovelling policy or the blind fanaticism that marked the times. Ancient
pictorial and hieroglyphical manuscripts were burnt; their idols,
images, and planispheres, were destroyed, and their temples and cities
were razed to the ground. It is melancholy to reflect that a chasm has
thus been made in the early history of the country, which the historian
must despair of ever seeing filled up.
Merida, since it was rebuilt, has not rendered itself in anywise
historical. Its remote and isolated position has prevented its
participation, to any extent, in the political struggles which have
marked the history of the city of Mexico; and the inhabitants appear to
have availed themselves of their peace and political composure by a
cultivation of letters, and general mental cultivation, to an extent
certainly unsurpassed in any province of Mexico.
The streets of Merida are of a good width, laid out at right angles. The
side-walks are four feet wide, paved with rough stone. The houses are
quite uniform in their appearance, and are built of stone. The
mason-work is creditable. The roofs of their houses are flat, and their
exteriors finished in stucco; some of which are painted in the Moorish
style, with balconied windows, ornamented, and presenting rather a
pretty appearance. The middle of the street is the lowest, forming a
passage to carry off the water. During ordinary rains, small rivers,
comparatively speaking, form themselves; flooding the streets to the
edge of the walks, and rendering them impassable for hours after the
rain has ceased, without great exposure. Candles are used for lighting
the city; but, of course, for that purpose, are almost useless.
This place contains a number of fine squares, the principal of which is
in the centre of the city. It is bounded by the cathedral, bishop’s
palace, government house, and dwellings occupied by the citizens. In the
middle of this square is a _waterless fountain_. No attention is paid to
this place, which might justly be compared, from its deserted aspect, to
the “Neutral Ground” in New Orleans; and, like that, it is susceptible
of being rendered a most beautiful promenade. On the side of this square
is the dwelling of Simon Peon, Esq. The front is ornamented with a relic
of the times prior to the conquest. It is a huge door-way, elaborately
carved in figures and lines. The city is indebted to this gentleman for
this display of his liberality and taste, in preserving a very
interesting memento of a people whose history, probably, is destined to
remain for ever sealed to mankind.
The market occupies a large square, in a central position, having two
sides devoted to the sale of meats, and the other two remaining open.
The interior is provided with accommodations for the venders of fruits
and vegetables. The meats are of an indifferent quality; they are cut up
and sold by the butcher in long strips. Their variety of vegetables is
limited, and but little skill is shown in their cultivation. Poultry is
abundant and cheap, as are also the other _necessaries_ of life.
There is but a very limited trade here, of any kind. The resources of
the country are too small for it to be otherwise. To give some idea of
the state of trade in the vicinity of the great public square, just
described, it is sufficient to state that, in crossing it, we have
disturbed the buzzard and killdeer at noonday.
At three o’clock in the afternoon, there is an almost total suspension
of business. The stores, generally, are closed, and the inhabitants
betake themselves to their hammocks, to the enjoyment of their favorite
siesta, which consists of a nap of an hour or more; an indulgence as
indispensable to a Mexican as his cigar. The calesa is the only
wheel-carriage that is to be found in the streets. Indian porters take
the place of drays, and are seen carrying barrels and bales upon their
backs, secured by a plaited rope passed over their foreheads. Being
accustomed, from childhood, to this kind of labor, they are enabled to
take loads of extraordinary weight, and to convey them to a great
distance with an ease that is really wonderful.
The climate of Merida, though very dry, and not subject to great
changes, is productive of febrile diseases at all seasons of the year,
from which even the natives are not exempted. Their bilious, much
resembles the yellow fever; and, in many cases, proves fatal. The fever
and ague is no stranger here. Pulmonary complaints are common, and
consumption carries off many. This malady most frequently shows itself
after severe attacks of the fever and ague, and makes a conquest of its
victim in a very short period.
The principal, as well as the most prominent, of the public buildings,
are the churches. The cathedral is a structure that would attract the
attention of the traveller in any part of the world. It was erected in
the sixteenth century. Its architecture is of the ecclesiastical style
of that age; and, altogether, it has a most commanding appearance. It
has well-proportioned domes, pinnacles, turrets, and lofty windows; and
it occupies, with the palace of the bishop of Yucatan, one entire side
of the most important square of the city. The interior is imposing, from
its numerous and splendidly decorated shrines. Its vaulted roof,
supported by immense stone pillars, gives it an air of solemn grandeur
peculiarly applicable to the ceremonies that are daily performed within
its precincts. The arms of Mexico are displayed upon the exterior front
of the building, which is finished with stone and stucco, with saints in
basso-relievo.
The bishop’s palace, adjoining, is plain. It is of two stories high,
painted green; and is accessible by a gateway opening into a court, over
which are emblazoned the crosier and mitre. The doors and windows are
much dilapidated. The title of a palace is somewhat of a misnomer for
this edifice, if one were to judge from its external appearance.
There are fourteen church establishments within the city and its
suburbs; they, generally, are well built; and many of them are
remarkable for the power and influence of their particular saints—in
popular estimation. For instance, that of St. Anne is one which the
ladies frequent, to pray for good husbands. Whether the gentlemen go
there to ask for similar blessings, I did not learn; but I was informed
through a source that it would be impolite to doubt, that, in many
instances, the petition of the lonely spinster has been most favorably
received. In this church is a large collection of bone and wax figures,
representing the various limbs of the human body; as, also, crutches,
left there by invalids as offerings to the tutelar saint (St. Barbe) who
has favorably heard their supplications. Models of vessels are deposited
here by those who have been preserved from imminent danger at sea,
through, as the devotees suppose, the efficacy of their appeals and
sacrifices to the saint.
We observed, on entering the church, parts of a human skeleton set near
the vase of holy water; put there, possibly, that all might see and be
reminded that “to this condition we must come at last!” Whether the
priests intended that they should convey a moral, as did those in use
among the ancient Egyptians, or placed them there for other purposes,
could not conveniently be ascertained. Be that as it may, they have an
imposing effect. The taste generally displayed in these churches is not
very pleasing to the eye of a stranger. The images of our Saviour are
rude figures, and what made them appear still worse was, that they were
decorated according to the prevailing fashion of the country; a style
which was calculated to awaken any other than reverential emotions.
New Year’s eve found me on the Alameda, (the promenade of the city,)
where I mingled with the multitude which had collected to enjoy the
pleasantness of the evening at this, the most delightful season of the
year in Yucatan.
On the morning of New Year, 1842, I went early to the cathedral. Dense
masses of Indians, principally females, in their plain cleanly dress,
tastefully arranged, were assembled around the different shrines at
which the priests were officiating. When I returned to breakfast, I met
my fellow-companions of the house at table; but there were none of those
outpourings of good feelings, those kind wishes of happiness that, in
former days, were wont to meet me in the land of my birth. For one
hearty greeting of “a happy New Year!” I would have given for the sake
of “auld lang syne,” most cheerfully would I have given—“a thousand
returns!” But “New Year’s,” alas! is no festival day of the heart in
Merida.
The day was dull throughout. After the services of the church were
finished, about nine o’clock, the streets were quite deserted. I then
visited the Indians in the suburbs. Their simple huts were comfortable,
so far as mud and stone could make them, and tolerably clean. Their
furniture is composed of nothing more than a few earthen vessels,
calabashes, and hammocks swung across the room. The walls of some of
them were ornamented with rude wooden crosses; and, occasionally,
pictures of saints in tin frames.
The environs of the city present but few pleasant walks. In fact they
are not required, for the inhabitants have not a taste for pedestrian
exercises, and scarcely ever walk when they can enjoy any less fatiguing
mode of locomotion. The practice of riding in the calesa is almost
universal. The ladies, especially, are extremely partial to it; and
having an uncouth gait, they thus appear to the best possible advantage.
Thus mounted and armed with their fan, (that indispensable appendage to
a Mexican lady,) they go forth fully equipped with fascinations,
conquering and to conquer. Their rides are wholly confined to the
streets, as the scenery in the vicinity of Merida offers few inducements
to the equestrian, while the roads constitute a special annoyance. As to
the cultivation of the soil, nature has been left to perform the whole
task, almost entirely unaided either by art or industry. Surely, thrift
is not indigenous to this country. The tropical trees and plants put
forth their blossoms, and the rich perfumes fill the air with their
balmy sweets. But there is a chilling contrast between the loveliness of
vegetable nature about me, and the condition of man, to whose care it is
intrusted. We never have admired the one without wishing that we had the
power to exalt the other to a position equally worthy of the hand that
made it.
We reached our lodgings in season to hear a Mexican disquisition on
cock-fighting, before the commencement of a “grand concert,” that was to
take place in the evening, and to which we had been favored with an
invitation. The _élite_ of the city were to be present, and no small
gratification was anticipated. It took place in a long hall kept for
this and other public purposes. The music was instrumental—and the
performers consisted principally of amateurs. It was a matter of
surprise and disappointment to find that only seventeen ladies and ten
gentlemen constituted the audience. It was odd to us, to see the fairer
part of the assembly set apart from the gentlemen; an arrangement which,
if we are not deceived, gave no more satisfaction to the ladies than to
the gentlemen. The former were quite pretty, and their dress exceedingly
neat; the arrangements of the head in particular exhibited very good
taste.
On the following day I made a visit to a gentleman’s country place,
situated about two miles from the city. It was a beautiful morning.
Under the smiles of a rising sun and a cloudless sky nature appeared to
be embellished in all her charms. After a very agreeable walk I arrived
at the house; but was disappointed in finding the owner at home. A few
Indians were hanging listlessly about the premises, under the charge of
a major domo, whose situation was manifestly quite a sinecure. The
mansion was of two stories with piazzas, large, and well built of stone;
but had nothing very peculiar in its construction. The grounds about it
were neatly and tastefully arranged. The division alleys of the garden
were laid with stone, covered with composition, ornamentally disposed,
and answering the two-fold purpose of a walk and a gutter to conduct the
water to the parts where it was required. The orange, the cocoa, the
plantain, and the wide-spread banana, were loaded with fruit. Clusters
of smaller tropical shrubbery, and myriads of flowers, were in
perfection. The enclosures teemed with vegetation, growing in
unrestricted luxuriance. This vegetation is only sustained by the aid of
irrigation. The water is supplied from immense wells and cisterns, which
are opened in large numbers for that purpose. This practice was
originally introduced into Spain by the Moors, who thus changed quite
barren wastes into productive gardens. Even the courses of rivers were
sometimes diverted to effect this important object. Many of the
provinces of the parent country, although since suffered by neglect to
revert to their former uselessness, bear evidence of the important
benefits that resulted from the system. The conquerors of Mexico were
aware of its advantages, of which they availed themselves extensively in
their agricultural pursuits. These reservoirs are frequently made
through a calcareous formation, to the depth of a hundred feet, and are
supplied with water both from fountains and from the rains of summer.
Broad curbs of stone and mortar are formed around them, from eight to
ten feet high, which are used as platforms for drawing up the water by
means of revolving buckets, turned by a spindle, and emptying, in their
evolutions, into conductors leading to reservoirs located near the place
where it may afterwards be wanted. Ascending to the balcony of the
building, I had a partial view of the city, embosomed among trees, with
its domes and turrets peering above their tops. After acknowledging the
hospitality with which I had been received, I made my adieus, and
returned at an early hour to the city.
The Congress of Yucatan is now in session. It is held in two rooms,
connected with each other by double doors. These rooms are neatly and
plainly fitted up for the purpose, having a small gallery or platform at
the sides, for the accommodation of spectators. These apartments
comprise a portion of a convent once belonging to the Jesuits, who
formerly exercised a powerful sway in this province. In 1825 their
property was confiscated to the government; when this and other orders
of monasteries and nunneries were dissolved by the prevailing voice of
the people. Small remains now only exist of this once potent and dreaded
class. The whole building, with the exception of the part mentioned, and
the church, is in a ruinous condition, with broken walls and ragged
casements. Birds of prey, fluttering about and resting upon the trees
that overtop the seat of this once proud, but now fallen society,
present a lesson that others of a similar cast might profit by; yet now,
in the nineteenth century, there are those living in Mexico, who not
only strenuously advocate the maintenance of the order of Loyola, but
are exerting their influence to have it reinstated to all its pristine
wealth, power, and ancient privileges. To revert to the business before
Congress—the houses were discussing the propriety of appointing
commissioners to Vera Cruz, for the purpose of arranging for a secession
from the great plan of independence that had been proclaimed, and again
to return “to their first love,” under the control of the Mexican
confederacy. The members were good-looking, well dressed, and of
gentlemanly behavior—and the system of duelling and bullying practised
so extensively in many of our own legislative assemblies, is unknown to
the unsophisticated individuals who constitute this body. They probably
have not arrived to that state of civilization, which requires such
physical agencies to illustrate and to enforce their arguments.
A temptation to visit the most extensive of the modern ruins of this
province could not be resisted. The Monastery of St. Francisco, which is
situated nearly in the centre of Merida, was erected upon a mound or
foundation that, probably, was the former site of some important
structure belonging to the original inhabitants of the place, which fell
under the destroying hand of the conqueror. The caciques and their
people were driven out, or perished by the ruthless sword; and the
church, following fast upon their footsteps, divided the spoils. Where
are they now? The vanquished and the vanquisher are numbered with the
things that were! and we now stand upon the dilapidated memorial that
indistinctly marks the greatness of the one, and the downfall of the
other.
This monastery was founded in 1520, without being completed until 1600.
It was constructed of walls, after the plan of a fortification, to ward
off the attacks of the Indians, who made sudden and frequent attempts to
regain their dominions and to annoy their enemies. It occupies about
five acres of ground, enclosed by walls forty feet high and eight thick,
with walks upon the top. The material is of hard stone, but composed of
small pieces, imbedded in a firm mass by the means of mortar. This vast
pile, at one time, contained upwards of two thousand friars. Popular
opinion drove them out in the political changes of 1825. Only few of the
order remain in Yucatan, and they are supported by the church.
The entrance to these ruins is through a huge doorway into a room which
was evidently used for persons in waiting for egress, when great caution
was requisite in opening the gates, for fear of being surprised by the
lurking foe. The arched ceiling of the room is painted with flying
ecclesiastical figures, and the apartment is now used as a stable. From
thence the entrance leads to a large square, the sides of which were
once occupied by churches, corridors, and rooms. Passing through these,
over the fallen ruins covered with a rank vegetation, by long halls, we
come to a room that might have been a place of devotion, judging from
the unusual care exhibited in the architecture of the walls, which now,
however, was more or less broken and defaced. Two trap-doors were in the
centre, through which is a descent, by stone steps, to an apartment
twelve by eighteen feet, and six feet high. This room contained piles of
human bones, having been a receptacle for those who died of the cholera.
This cell had passages connected with it, but they were so choked up
with rubbish that they could not be penetrated. After clambering over
broken walls, we reached a second floor, containing halls and rooms that
had been used for libraries and lodgings, as I inferred from the words
placed over the doors. In proceeding along the halls, or entering the
deserted rooms, the hollow sound of the intruder’s footstep drives the
frightened bat from his resting-place, and the lizard to his hole. The
descent here leads through a succession of rooms and cells, under
ground, from whence we left the buildings and passed on through the rank
grass surrounding them to a portion of the area, which was formerly
cultivated as a garden. The stone walk could yet be seen, and the taste
and skill of the designer were perceptible. Fruit-trees still remain, as
also wells and reservoirs for bathing and fishing.
On returning to the gateway, and ascending the front or principal wall,
the highest summit of one of the pinnacles is attained by a ladder of
ropes; from which one may obtain a bird’s-eye view of the city and
surrounding country, as also of the immense pile of ruins around him. In
front of the interior space are two churches, in a tolerable state of
preservation, built in the old Spanish style of pinnacled roof and
arches. On the left, ruins of an immense hall are seen, with its large
broken arch, leaving the whole interior, with its painted ceilings,
exposed to view. Farther on are crumbling bastions and thick walls,
falling, covered with ivy and other vegetation. Squares are filled up
with masses of rubbish, and overgrown with trees. Symbols of the cross
were scattered about, bearing evidence of the class of people that had
last been its rulers. On the right, you look down into the deep recesses
where, but a moment since, you might have stumbled over the emblems of a
once haughty and potent priesthood. All now is silent. No life is
stirring, save the ominous buzzard fluttering over the tottering
pinnacles, or perched upon the blackened and decaying walls, finishing
this picture of desolation.
The 6th of January is the holy-day of the Epiphany. At four o’clock in
the morning the streets were completely thronged, principally with
females. In the cathedral, at this early hour, it was quite dark. The
prevailing gloom was rendered more palpable by the distant appearance of
lighted candles. The priests were administering the sacrament, with
crowds of women surrounding them. The long aisles of the church were
filled with kneeling devotees. As the sun rose, and threw his bright
beams in at the windows, the scene became imposing. A vast multitude of
females were offering up their orisons at the same moment; and, if the
mind of the spectator could be divested of the prejudice that it was not
merely the performance of a superstitious rite, but a direct and sincere
appeal to the Giver of all good gifts, the sight, indeed, had been most
cheering to the eye, most gratifying to the heart.
Early on the morning of the following day (Sunday) I visited the
churches. They were filled, as usual, with the fairer part of creation.
In walking through the streets, after breakfast, great preparations were
observed to be making for a cock-fight, which was to take place at
twelve o’clock. This, next to a bull-bait, is one of the most exciting
scenes that can present itself to a Mexican populace. The gentlemen
keepers were already wending their way to the pits, which are always
kept in readiness for such amusements. The patricians of the city, the
heads of the government, officers of the army, scions of the church,
citizens, and the poor Indian, were all present, mixed up,
helter-skelter; and bets, from six and a quarter cents to three hundred
dollars, were freely offered and as readily accepted. There was much
excitement, but no quarrelling or harsh words. The cock of the
_Secretary of War_ was beaten.
The latter part of the day was spent on the Square, where there were
about three hundred Yucatan soldiers collected for drill. They were
dressed in a shirt and short trousers, with the former article upon the
outside, and a broad-brimmed palm-leaf sombrero. Their military
equipments were in good keeping. They were officered principally by
boys, who had received nothing more than a common school education, wore
jacket and trousers, and used canes as substitutes for swords. During
the drill a slight shower commenced, which dampened the martial
propensities of our heroes with marvellous rapidity. Whatever might have
been their preferences to a fight, they certainly preferred to drill
another day.
I embraced an opportunity, which was now offered me, of visiting the
bishop at his palace. Entering a large doorway in the centre of the
court-yard, and ascending a flight of stone steps to a range of
corridors, I was met by a servant, who conducted me into an ante-room.
My name was taken in; and, in a few seconds, I was received by the
bishop, in an adjoining room, with a most cordial welcome. He has a fine
head. His person is tall, rather robust, and looked the bishop to the
life. He was clad in a blue silk gown, and a cap of the same material,
resting upon the crown of his head; and embellished with a massy gold
chain around his neck, appended to which was a cross. He conversed
respecting citizens and residents of the United States with whom he was
acquainted, either personally or by reputation; and spoke of the
shipwreck of our national vessel, the schooner Porpoise, on board of
which he was a passenger, while on her way to Vera Cruz. He expressed
himself in the highest terms of commendation of the officers, and gave a
glowing account of the perilous voyage. He showed his library with a
great politeness, and a becoming pride; but it struck me as being quite
limited for one in his position. He expressed himself liberally; and no
doubt, as his countenance and actions indicated, he is a right worthy
man.
His rooms were fitted up more with an eye to the useful, than to any
apparent desire for display. The ceiling was ornamented with lithographs
of battles, interspersed with patterns of French fire-boards. Previous
to taking leave, he very kindly offered all the aid in his power for
facilitating my visit to the towns in the interior. For this, as for
other civilities, I shall probably never have an opportunity of
testifying to him the full extent of my gratitude.
He passed with us through his house to the door of the college,
adjoining, when he left us in charge of the rector, with instructions to
conduct us through the building. The institution is called “Minerva.”
The first room entered was the library, which was small and badly
arranged. It was comprised of works principally relating to the church.
It contains a portrait of the founder of the college, a building which
was completed in 1775. It is supported by certain taxes paid by each
curate in the province. These having been cut off, in a great degree, by
the recent changes in the government, seriously affect the institution,
which, at this time, is quite limited in its means. Though the pay of
the president and professors is small, and the contingent expenses are
light, it is apprehended that it cannot long be continued. Its studies
do not go beyond the high schools in the United States. We hastily
glanced at this building, and then entered the cathedral with our
attentive friend, who took especial pains to point out every thing
worthy of particular notice. Upon a close examination of the altars and
shrines, it was plainly to be discovered that the church was poor. The
time is gone by in which churches are made the depositories of the
precious metals, formerly a source of so much wealth to them.
One of the shrines contains a wooden image of our Saviour, to which
attention was called by one of the priests that accompanied us through
the church. He stated to us with much gravity, that it was preserved
harmless from a great fire by a miracle, and that it is now looked upon
as a most sacred relic. A room was shown us containing portraits of all
the bishops of Yucatan. They were badly executed. One of them was
pointed out as having been a great eater; he would devour a whole turkey
at his dinner, and say, “it was a fine chicken.” Another was shown who
had performed the miracle of changing sour apples to sweet, a function
which has given its proprietor’s name to a species of apple, which is
retained to this day.
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