The market is well furnished with fruit, vegetables, and fish, and the customary supplies of meat generally found in similar establishments throughout Mexico; but articles are much dearer here than in other parts of Yucatan. This is owing, probably, to the great influx of strangers. The greater amount of money thrown into circulation has of course a tendency to enhance the value of the necessaries and luxuries of life, here, as elsewhere.
Every Saturday brings from the country to the streets of this city a horde of Indian beggars, who are not to be seen here upon any other day of the week, and to whom alms are liberally distributed by the inhabitants. This is a custom, no doubt, that is handed down from the time of the conquest. The friars were in the habit of giving charity to the poor on the same day.
The city, including the suburbs outside the walls, contains a population of about fifteen thousand. There is an “alamede” outside these walls, which affords a pretty little place for a walk, and there are pleasant drives around in the neighborhood. There is a college in Campeachy similar to that of Merida, with six professors, the highest salary of any one of whom is six hundred dollars per annum. There are fifty-five pupils, besides thirteen on the foundation. Like all other literary institutions in this country, it is poorly supported.
The town of Campeachy, built entirely of a calcareous hewn stone, stands upon a foundation of the same substance, which extends throughout the whole peninsula, retreating from the sea-shore with a gradual elevation, until it reaches to the height of five hundred feet, the level of Sierra Alta, near Tecax. This immense rock has doubtless furnished material, before the conquest, for the construction of those stupendous temples, and other magnificent buildings, that now constitute the ruins of this country.
The whole of Campeachy rests upon a subterraneous cavern of the ancient Mayas. It is now difficult to ascertain whether these quarries or galleries, which, according to the traditions of the country, are understood to be immense, served for the abode of the people who executed the work. Nothing reveals the marks of man’s sojournings here; not even the traces of smoke upon the vaults were visible. It is more probable that the greater part of this excavation was used as a depository for their dead. This supposition has been strengthened by the discovery of many openings of seven feet deep by twenty inches in breadth, dug horizontally in the walls of the caverns. These excavations, however, are few; and the galleries have been but little investigated and less understood. Even the inhabitants of the dwellings above know scarcely any thing respecting these dark habitations.
These catacombs occasion frequent accidents. “Some time before my arrival,” says Waldeck, “the centre of Moille street caved in. Happily, this gallery did not extend beneath the houses. Arches were erected that brought the street to its original level, by the aid of a French engineer, M. Journot.”
The principal suburbs of Campeachy are San Roman to the south of the town, Guadaloupe and San Francisco to the north. Each of these has its church. The city has three churches and five convents.
At the extremity of the San Roman suburb is the general cemetery, around which is a broken wall and a façade, almost in ruins, feebly protecting it from the observation of passengers. During the prevalence of the cholera, this depository was found insufficient to accommodate the numerous patients, and two others were constructed to meet the emergency. These last were surrounded by palisades, and are situated to the right of the road leading to Lerma. Nor did these suffice; sculls and bones were to be seen in heaps above ground.
At some distance from the cemetery is a small battery that the sea washes at high water. About two hundred yards to the right of this is the pest-house, for the accommodation of leprous patients. This establishment is more expensive than useful, as it has been long satisfactorily known that the disease is not contagious. Those unhappily detained prisoners there are lodged and fed gratuitously, and no labor is exacted from them.
Within less than a mile of this latter building is an hacienda, called Buena Vista; near it is a colossal tree of the mimosa class, which may be seen for more than a league at sea. To the east-north-east of the hacienda is an opening, similar to those above mentioned, that is supposed to lead to the subterraneous caverns. It is concealed from the eye of a careless observer, and is very little known. This, however, is very convenient for smugglers, who resort to it in the night to conceal contraband merchandise, and who are, perhaps, the only persons that make these places, in the bosom of the earth, materially serviceable.