The City of the Sacred Well

by T. A. Willard

“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.