Be this as it may, I felt awed when I looked upon them. I could not but feel that they established a sort of parenthetic connexion between myself and elder ages, and a strange people who had customs now unknown, and of whom history has preserved no better memorials than the indistinct yet eloquent piles of stone and earth before me.
After our breakfast, I called at the house of the curate, but he was absent; asserting the prerogative of the traveller, I thereupon introduced myself to the priest in charge, and informed him that I was a stranger, and should not be ungrateful for any attentions that might be bestowed upon me in that character. His reception was rather cool; but, as my object was to obtain information, I affected not to notice it. After some trivial delays, I was enabled to visit the church which had so struck my eye as I approached the city, and which I was desirous of seeing. It is situated in the centre of the city, upon an artificial elevation, which once, no doubt, was the site of some important structure of the ancient people who formerly inhabited this province. It was probably destroyed to make room for a monastery—the ruins of which (the church which forms a part of it being preserved) cover some acres of land.
The church was filled with rude carving, and with still more rude and incomprehensible paintings. Within the walls, which encompass the whole of the grounds, is a square that once must have been a magnificent place, but which is now totally neglected. It has on three sides a double row of pillars, forming a beautiful promenade, from which the country, as far as the eye can reach, is overlooked.
The priest who conducted me over the premises, seemed to know nothing of the church in which he officiated, and even less, if possible, of the city and its environs, whence came the patronage on which he subsisted. The Latin inscription upon the builder’s tablet was incomprehensible to him; but it is no more than justice to say, that he was evidently chagrined by the ignorance which he had been forced to exhibit. He conducted me to the turret, and pointed out the clock for my inspection; it was a rare piece of mechanism; but the most striking part of it was a live Indian stationed beside it, to strike the hours.
The towns throughout this portion of the interior are well laid out, and the houses well built; every thing looks as though they might be inhabited by a stirring people. Arriving in one of them at the close of the day, the stranger is led to attribute the pervading quiet to that particular time; in the morning he would think the same; but, at morning, noon, and night, the same composing monotony reigns, and all days, (those of the feasts excepted,) and all places, are alike. A listless apathy seems to hang around them—a pervading stillness and inactivity, which are painful to observe.
The principal stores are kept by the whites, who, in the ratio of population, are to the Indians, about as one to six. Their stock comprises all descriptions of goods required by the inhabitants; among which the article of distilled liquors is the most prominent—the demand for which, I observed, increased, as I advanced into the interior.
The Indian of the town clock has this moment struck one; the stores are closed, and the streets deserted. The whole of the population, excepting a few straggling natives, are in their hammocks. Midnight is on us in pantomime, without its darkness. In fifteen minutes more, all Yucatan, literally, may be said to be asleep—even my José now is looking at me with a drowsy eye, and wondering, no doubt, why I do not follow the example. The climate is really enervating, and I have determined to swing a while, if it be only to learn not to condemn the habits of others.
On the following morning we left Isamal, stopping occasionally upon the road-side, to examine the sonatos which lay in our route. These are large wells, which apparently have been formed by convulsions of Nature, in the midst of silicious and calcareous rocks. They contain a never failing supply of good water, and are a rendezvous of Indians, and halting-places for the muleteers, who usually are found taking their refreshments there. The calabash of Maza was always tendered to us with unrestrained hospitality, and we were almost uniformly asked to partake of their other provisions. Sharing the food of these humble wayfarers is an unfailing guarantee of their good-will, and to decline, if not construed as an offence, would certainly wound their sensibility.
I frequently had occasion to observe the tact that José possessed of making himself agreeable to those we met upon the road, and was often reminded of my good fortune in having secured his valuable services.
Parting from our transient friends, we hurried on in a vain effort to escape a violent shower which threatened us, and which overtook us in time to drench us thoroughly before we got refuge, at noon, in the Casa-real at Tuncax.