The manner of doing business is simple. Nothing of that stir and bustle is seen that is to be observed in cities and towns of the United States; nor do you find the care-worn and anxious look that is so often to be noticed with us. Speculation, kite-flying, lame ducks, bulls and bears, and all those curses with which large mercantile communities are usually visited, are entirely unknown in the province of Yucatan.
During my stay in the city of Merida, a ball was given at the Governor’s house, apropos of some political event, which I did not esteem of moment enough to remember. As usual upon such occasions, there were grand preparations. The man-milliners were busily engaged upon female finery—and their shop-boards were decorated with the most unlimited gayety. Every door-way along the principal streets, throughout the day, was filled with ladies seated upon stools, (their favorite posture,) working fancy articles, in anticipation of the approaching festival. But their dresses gaping behind, and hanging loosely upon their shoulders, and their slip-shod feet, made them appear exceedingly slovenly at home, and awakened in me a strong desire to see them in full toilet at the ball in the evening.
On entering the hall, I passed through a dense line of ladies arranged along the corridors, principally mammas, and wall-flowering spinsters garlanding the corridors. The dancing had already commenced. At first sight, the display was dazzling; but after the lapse of a few minutes, the fascination dissipated. The absence of all conversation, even of small-talk, which upon such occasions is a relief, rendered even the ball-room, like all their other domestic institutions here, exceedingly monotonous and dull. During the dance, not a lip is seen to move—like Marryat’s wench, they refuse to talk, because they came here to dance! At the conclusion of a cotillon, the ladies took seats separate from the gentlemen. They dressed here in very good taste; though a partiality for brilliant colors was rather too conspicuously displayed for a Northern eye. There was no extravagant display of jewellery or rich brocades, in which particular I may be pardoned for commending their example to my own fair countrywomen. There were many pretty faces, that only required expression to render them charming. The skill of the man-milliner, however, deserves full credit. I will add, for the benefit of my bachelor friends, that there were in attendance about twelve ladies to one gentleman. This disproportionate abundance of females is common in warm climates, and constitutes, I believe, one of Bishop Warburton’s arguments in defence of polygamy in Asia. The ladies in the corridors were silently enjoying their cigars during the whole evening, and only relieving the monotony of their occupation, by carrying on a telegraphic correspondence with some of their neighbors by the aid of their fans.
The ball, as I have already remarked, was given at the Governor’s house, which occupies a portion of the great square. The room was about fifty feet long by fifteen wide. The floor was of mortar; the ceilings high and roughly finished. The walls were ornamented with framed engravings, and the windows hung with white cotton curtains. A fine supper was provided; but I left the ball at an early hour, and jostled my way to my lodgings through an immense crowd of Indians, of both sexes, attracted by the festivities which I was just leaving.
Within the precincts of Merida, there is a regular monastery sustained by about twelve monks. In my rambles I passed the door of one of the friars, who invited me to walk in. He was a middle-aged man, clad in the usual garb of his order; a loose dress, and sandals tied about his ankles with cords. His hair was cut rounding; giving it the air of a Scotch bonnet resting lightly upon the top of his head. He was not only very polite, but a very learned man. In spite of my sterner judgment, I could not but sympathize with him, as he dilated upon the historical recollections of the old and notorious order to which he had attached himself in his youthful days. As he spoke of it in its glory, his enthusiasm broke forth with an almost inspired eloquence.
His room was large and airy, and appeared to have been arranged for a study. It was furnished with two chairs and a table. A few Spanish and Latin works were lying around. He conducted us through the long halls and corridors of the monastery, and described to us the various paintings that covered the walls. They were principally representations of his tutelar saint, in the different periods of his eventful life, from his birth to his death; also, of the crucifixion of our Saviour. At a distance they might resemble pictures; but, on approaching them, the charm fled. They proved to be most execrable daubs.
The church attached to the monastery is well worth a visit. It has an immense shrine, formed by a group of figures in alto-relievo, large as life, representing saints and angels, and all profusely ornamented with gold and silver. One of the chapters of the church contains a representation of the crucifixion carved upon stone, beautiful, both for its design and its execution. It was found by the Spaniards on the island of Cozumel, the place where Cortez first landed, and has caused much speculation as to its origin. On returning to the room of our worthy guide, chocolate was served; and a conversation for an hour ensued upon the condition of the clergy of the United States, which arose from an inquiry into the number and denomination of our monasteries! I left him alone within his cheerless walls, and wended my way back to my home; each of us, no doubt, preferring his own situation to the other’s. I can at least speak authentically as to one.
I continued my rambles in the suburbs on the following day. Here, dilapidation and ruin, and the want of cultivation, are too palpable. Churches built centuries ago, and now surrounded only by a few poor Indian huts, form a sad but instructive commentary upon the insufficiency of arbitrary power, under the control of a religious hierarchy, to develope the intellectual or the physical resources of a people. Decay and desolation have overtaken all those institutions of an elder time, which now but serve, like the footsteps upon the shore of a deserted island, to prove the former presence of a more vigorous civilization. The hand of man has rarely interfered to protect these solemn memorials from oblivion. The grounds around them are but little cultivated, and are mostly covered by a thick growth of furze, with an occasional cocoa, orange, or tamarind tree. Here, however, the ramon grows to a great height, and is very valuable, its leaves and branches affording a nutricious food for horses.
About two miles from the city is a cemetery, appropriated to the dead of Merida. It is located in a beautiful situation; but, like most other public places in this country, it has been utterly neglected. It comprehends about half an acre of land, surrounded by a high wall; and is under the charge of a Catholic priest, who resides upon the premises. Those who can afford it are provided with vaults, built upon the surface of the ground. The poor are interred beneath the soil. The priest in charge does not seem to have permitted his solemn vicinage to disturb his digestion or dampen his spirits. His sleek and portly appearance reminded me, at once, of the “fat, round, oily little man of God,” whose repose Thomson disturbs in his Castle of Indolence. He was kind and attentive in showing the premises; but his conversation was very feeble, and indicated a mind almost demented with superstition.
The thermometer now, though the middle of January, ranges at about eighty. We have occasional showers, but the weather continues to be delightful. The mornings and evenings are perfectly enchanting. The climate is not so uniform as that of Cuba; rains are more frequent, and the dews more abundant. Colds and influenzas are common; and on this account it cannot, I think, be recommended to invalids with pulmonary affections.