The City of the Sacred Well

by T. A. Willard

It is rather difficult to assign to a given period any building as a whole, or any piece of workmanship, because the older city was so frequently robbed of its art treasures in the construction of the newer city. Columns and cut stones and lintels were torn from the older and perhaps then nearly ruined buildings to be used in the newer edifices. As in the House of the Writing in the Dark, we see a lintel of such extraordinary beauty as compared with the rest of the structure that it cries aloud its story of ravishment from a nobler and older temple. Apparently the later builders cared nothing for the beauty of this stone, but took it simply because in size it was appropriate for their purpose.

In speaking of the three eras of Mayan culture in Chi-chen Itza, it is at least reasonable to suppose that the most ancient preceded the coming of the Itzas to the city; legend says there was a flourishing city here before the influx of the Itzas. The second period includes the rise and decline of art under the Itzas, ending with the Nahuatl-Aztec dominance. The third period approaches oblivion—the centuries following the decay of the Maya nations when “campers,” as Don Eduardo calls them, inhabited sparsely the old cities, and these people built nothing of permanence and despoiled much of the old art, knowing nothing of the past history and grandeur of the walls which provided a better shelter than they could build. The little of artistic merit which they created—if indeed, they created anything—is crude and inferior to the work of their ancestors. “Campers” probably lived in the Sacred City for two or three centuries preceding the coming of Montejo and until his advent.

All that remains of the first period is the nearly obliterated old Chi-chen Itza, where future exploration may bring to light many treasures. Add to these the precious carvings that have obviously been taken from the old city for the building of the newer city.

The second period is represented by the many temples and buildings, several in an almost perfect state of preservation, in the newer Chi-chen Itza, and the finds in the Sacred Well.

The third period is represented only in the waste and debris left by the “campers” in and about the structures of the preceding periods.

One striking characteristic of Mayan art is the skill of the ancient sculptor or painter in portraying the human figure and especially the human physiognomy. The faces in murals, friezes, and bas-reliefs are expressive, individual, full of character—the faces of men of intellect and purpose. Nearly always these portraits in stone or paint seem to have a sort of sublimity: an earnestness of mien, an inscrutability, and withal an utter lack of pompousness. None but great artists could so have caught the real character of the person portrayed. Mayan art is a decided step ahead of the art of the Egyptians, and beside it the Buddhas of the Orient seem insipid. There are, of course, grotesque figures and the many hieroglyphs which, it must be remembered, are not portraits but have been conventionalized into symbols far in advance of the original and more primitive picture-writing.

One of the most intriguing things is the constant recurrence of the mask of Kukul Can, often conventionalized to fit the particular wall of a building, frieze, or mural where it is used. And always it is shown with a long upturned snout which some casual observer has called an elephant’s trunk.

To go a bit afield, G. Elliot Smith’s “Elephants and Ethnologists” takes up this subject of the elephant’s head. He believes that several elaborately carved columns or stelæ in Copan, another Mayan city, possibly more ancient than Chi-chen Itza, present credible pictures of elephants’ heads with the keepers or mahouts beside them. These carvings have caused considerable discussion; some stoutly maintain that they portray the elephant and others say the motif is derived from the tapir or from the head of the blue macaw. At any rate, the appearance is that of an elephant, but very likely is intended for the mask and nose of the great Maya hero-god Kukul Can.

Of the many murals in the Sacred City, those in the Temple of the Tigers are the most interesting. On the opposite page is a reproduction [missing] of the scene on the west wall; it is from a tracing done twenty-five years ago by Teoberto Maier, of whom I shall later give further account. Much of the lower part of the mural has since been defaced by vandals or has chipped away through natural causes. The colors are vivid and the battle action enthralling. Of the many human figures no two are in the same pose. At the upper right is the Itza king or ruler, protected by his king of serpents spitting fire and venom at the enemy. A little lower down, and in front, is the chief Itza general with his protecting serpent, and all about are warriors armed with hul-ches, darts, and shields. At the extreme left is the opposing general with his king of serpents and his warriors.[7] Near the bottom at the left are the Itza notables holding a consultation, and at the bottom, center, is the time-keeper with his calendar wheel.

Facing page 221 [missing] is an enlarged view of just a bit of this scene which, because of its larger size, gives a better idea of the technique of the painter.