A Glimpse at Guatemala
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Title: A Glimpse at Guatemala
Author: Anne Cary Maudslay
Alfred Percival Maudslay
Release date: December 17, 2014 [eBook #47693]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GLIMPSE AT GUATEMALA ***
A GLIMPSE AT GUATEMALA,
AND SOME NOTES ON THE
ANCIENT MONUMENTS OF CENTRAL AMERICA.
By ANNE CARY MAUDSLAY
AND
ALFRED PERCIVAL MAUDSLAY
With Maps, Plans, Photographs, and other Illustrations
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1899.
[Illustration: ALERE FLAMMAM.]
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND FRANCIS,
RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
DEDICATED TO
FREDERICK DUCANE GODMAN, D.C.L., F.R.S.,
AND TO THE MEMORY OF
OSBERT SALVIN, F.R.S.
CONTENTS.
Pages
PREFACE ix
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii
LIST OF MAPS AND PLANS xix
CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE 1-8
CHAPTER II.
THE CITY 9-14
CHAPTER III.
THE START 15-23
CHAPTER IV.
ANTIGUA 24-29
CHAPTER V.
THE VOLCANOES (and Note by A. P. M.) 30-40
CHAPTER VI.
THE ROAD TO GODINES 41-46
CHAPTER VII.
THE LAKE OF ATITLAN 47-59
CHAPTER VIII.
THE QUICHÉS AND CACHIQUELS (by A. P. M.) 60-70
CHAPTER IX.
ACROSS THE ALTOS 71-79
CHAPTER X.
USPANTAN AND THE RIO NEGRO 80-90
CHAPTER XI.
COBAN AND THE VERA PAZ 91-100
CHAPTER XII.
RUINS AT RABINAL (by A. P. M.) 101-104
CHAPTER XIII.
THE ROAD TO ZACAPA AND COPAN 105-117
CHAPTER XIV.
COPAN 118-126
CHAPTER XV.
COPAN IN 1885 (by A. P. M.) 127-133
CHAPTER XVI.
COPAN IN 1885 (_continued_, by A. P. M.) 134-142
CHAPTER XVII.
COPAN TO QUIRIGUA (and Note by A. P. M.) 143-151
CHAPTER XVIII.
ON THE WAY TO THE COAST 152-156
CHAPTER XIX.
CAJABON AND THE NORTHERN FORESTS (by A. P. M.) 157-173
CHAPTER XX.
THE RUINS OF IXKUN AND THE PINE RIDGE (by A. P. M.) 174-192
CHAPTER XXI.
CHICHÉN ITZÁ (by A. P. M.) 193-211
CHAPTER XXII.
LAGUNA AND THE RIO USUMACINTA (by A. P. M.) 212-223
CHAPTER XXIII.
PALENQUE (by A. P. M.) 224-229
CHAPTER XXIV.
TIKÁL AND MENCHÉ (by A. P. M.) 230-241
CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSIONS (?) (by A. P. M.) 242-253
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE HIEROGLYPHIC INSCRIPTIONS (by A. P. M.) 254-272
INDEX 273
PREFACE.
The Archæological results of my seven expeditions to Central America
are in course of publication in the 'Biologia Centrali-Americana,' and
eight parts containing about 200 plates have already been issued to
the public; this is necessarily a costly work which is not likely to
find its way into many private libraries. It has therefore frequently
been suggested to me that I should publish a less ambitious and less
expensive volume giving a general account of my travels as well as
some description of the ruins visited; but, alas! I have to confess
a hopeless inability to keep a regular journal, and my note-books
are for the most part full of measurements and compass and sextant
observations, and would furnish but a poor basis of a book of
travels. When, in 1894, my wife accompanied me to Central America,
a splendid opportunity offered of avoiding all responsibility in
the matter. She should keep a diary and write the book, and I would
add some archæological notes! It was to be a small book with a few
illustrations, and was of course to be published within six months
of our return home. However, when we did get back to England there
were other matters which called for our attention, and the notes had
perforce to be laid aside. During the following winter a fair start was
made, and some experimental illustrations were prepared; but each of us
discovered in the other a deeply-rooted objection to process-blocks and
shiny paper, so we began to dabble in photogravure and typo-etching.
Then the archæological notes began to expand, and as we had then no
publisher to put a proper curb on our whims and fancies, the book
continued to grow on a soil of hand-made paper and to blossom with
coloured plans, chromolithographs, and photogravures. It may fairly be
described as a growth, for the pages and illustrations were printed
off as they were finished, a few at a time, and the text broken up.
If the errors and repetitions are numerous they may in charity be
ascribed to this unorthodox procedure, and such errors would have
doubtless been altogether avoided if we could have submitted the proofs
in their entirety to any of the numerous friends who have from time
to time given us advice and assistance. From Sir Clements Markham and
Dr. Keltie of the Royal Geographical Society wise counsel and kindly
help to travellers seems to flow in a perennial stream; and in this
connection I would gladly pay my tribute to the memory of one who was
beloved by all travellers, the late Secretary of the Society, Henry
Bates, who, after my return from my earlier journeys, was almost alone
in offering encouragement, pointing out to me the importance of the
work which seemed to have fallen to my lot to undertake. My friend,
Mr. Francis Sarg, for many years Imperial German Consul at Guatemala
City, to whose ready help and never-failing hospitality the success
of my earlier journeys was largely due, has added to the long list of
his thoughtful acts of kindness by making many valuable suggestions
and by saving us from many errors, especially in our descriptions
of the Indians and their customs. Of my obligation to Mr. F. DuCane
Godman, the editor of the 'Biologia Centrali-Americana,' it is not easy
for me to speak in measured terms; and as he would be the first to
deprecate the only expressions by means of which adequate thanks could
be tendered to him, I must here content myself with assuring him of my
gratitude for allowing me to reproduce the reduced copies of certain
maps, plans, photographs, and drawings which have already appeared, or
are about to be issued, in the Archæological section of the 'Biologia.'
The greatest pleasure which the completion of this volume could have
afforded to my wife and myself has, alas! been denied to us: we cannot
place a copy of it in the hands of Osbert Salvin. What loss science
has suffered by his death it is not for me to say; but how great
the loss is to his friends I have good reason to know, for to his
enduring patience, his never-failing sympathy, his sound advice, and
affectionate friendship I owe more than I can here express. In the
preparation of this volume, about the land he knew so well and with
which his name must ever be associated, he took such a kindly and
helpful interest that his connection with it will always remain amongst
the happiest of our memories.
I cannot close this preface without offering my sincere thanks to Miss
Annie Hunter and her sisters, and to all those who have been concerned
in the preparation of the drawings and the reproduction of the
illustrations, for the interest they have taken in the work entrusted
to them and the carefulness with which it has been carried out. In
conclusion, I am glad to express my acknowledgments for the good
services rendered to me by the companions in my travels, the men of the
Lopez family, and especially my friend Gorgonio, whose gentle manners
and sweet disposition helped to smooth over many a bad half-hour during
my earlier expeditions, and whose ceaseless vigilance over the welfare
of my wife during our last journey did so much to lessen for her the
discomforts of camp-life.
A. P. M.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
ACAPULCO: A SNAPSHOT OVER THE BULWARKS. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 6
LANDING AT SAN JOSÉ. (Drawn by Ada Hunter from a photograph.) 8
CITY OF GUATEMALA, from the Cerro del Carmen. (Drawn by BLANCHE
HUNTER from a photograph.) 9
CHURCH ON THE CERRO DEL CARMEN (2 views). (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER
from photographs.) 13
STONE IDOLS ON THE ROAD TO MIXCO. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a
photograph by ARTHUR CHAPMAN.) 15
A STREET IN MIXCO. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a photograph by
A. P. M.) 19
A MIXCO WASHERWOMAN. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a photograph.) 20
INDIAN "CARGADORES." (Drawn by ADA HUNTER from photographs by
A. P. M.) 21
ANTIGUA AND THE VOLCAN DE AGUA. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 24
ANTIGUA. " " _to face_ 26
AN ALCALDE. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a photograph.) 28
THE PLAZA, ANTIGUA. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 28
AGUA FROM SANTA MARIA. " " 30
ANTIGUA. A RUINED CHURCH. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a
photograph.) _to face_ 30
INDIANS FROM JOCOTENANGO, ON THE MESETA, VOLCAN DE FUEGO. (Photograph
by A. P. M.) 37
THE FIRE PEAK AND MESETA. {(Photographs by OSBERT} 39
THE PEAK OF ACATENANGO, FROM THE MESETA. {SALVIN, F.R.S.) }
INDIANS OF THE ALTOS. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a photograph.) 42
SPECIMENS OF NATIVE TEXTILES AND EMBROIDERY. (2 plates.) (Drawn from
the original materials by ADA and BLANCHE HUNTER.) _to face_ 42
INDIANS OF THE ALTOS. (Drawn by ADA HUNTER from a photograph.) 43
A BARRANCA. } (Photographs by A. P. M.) 44
INDIAN CARRIERS.}
A HIGH ROAD. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 45
LAKE AND VOLCANO OF ATITLAN. " " _to face_ 46
NOONDAY REST. " " _to face_ 48
SUNSET, THE LAKE OF ATITLAN. " " _to face_ 48
ESQUIPULAS. " " 50
VOLCANO OF ATITLAN. " " _to face_ 51
SAN ANTONIO. " " 52
" " " " 53
BOYS IN SCHOOL. " " 55
AN INDIAN LOOM. (Drawn from the original Loom by BLANCHE HUNTER.) 56
A WOMAN WEAVING. (From the 'Codex Mendoza.') 56
INDIANS AT SAN ANTONIO. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 56
WATER CARRIERS, SAN ANTONIO. (Drawn by BLANCHE HUNTER from a
photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 56
PANAJACHÉL AND THE LAKE OF ATITLAN. (Photograph by
A. P. M.) _to face_ 58
PILGRIMS AT EVENING PRAYER. " 59
ON THE STEPS OF THE CABILDO, ATITLAN. " 60
THE PLAZA, ATITLAN. " _to face_ 62
"EL SACRIFICATORIO," UTATLAN. (After F. CATHERWOOD.) 68
QUEZALTENANGO. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 79
LOOKING BACK ACROSS THE RIO NEGRO. " " 82
ZOPILOTES. " " 90
COBAN. " " 91
THE CHURCH, COBAN. " " 93
A COBANERA. (Drawn by ADA HUNTER from a photograph.) 94
THE PLAZA, COBAN. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 96
THE CALVARIO, COBAN. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 100
A TEMPLE NEAR RABINAL. (Photograph by OSBERT SALVIN, F.R.S.) 101
SQUARE ALTAR, COPAN VILLAGE. (Drawn by ANNIE HUNTER from a
plaster-cast.) 118
COPAN. STELA B. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 120
" IN THE GREAT PLAZA. " " _to face_ 126
" THE SCULPTURED DOORWAY, restored. (Drawn by E. LAMBERT from
photographs by A. P. M.) 130
" THE EAST SIDE OF THE SCULPTURED DOORWAY. (Photograph by
A. P. M.) _to face_ 130
" A FRAGMENT FROM THE HIEROGLYPHIC STAIRWAY. (Drawn by ANNIE
HUNTER from a plaster-cast.) 133
" A SCULPTURED SLAB FROM THE WESTERN COURT. (Drawn by ANNIE
HUNTER from a plaster-cast.) 142
QUIRIGUA. STELA F. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 146
" STELA D, NORTH FACE. " " _to face_ 148
" STELA D, EAST SIDE. " " _to face_ 148
" THE GREAT TURTLE. " " _to face_ 150
CARIBS BUYING FISH AT LIVINGSTON. " " 156
A HAMMOCK BRIDGE. " " 160
CAJABON. " " _to face_ 162
SKETCH OF A TEMPLE ON HILL-TOP NEAR YAXCHÉ. 176
SCULPTURED MONOLITH AT IXKUN. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 176
EARTHEN POT FROM YAXCHÉ. (Drawn by ANNIE HUNTER.) 177
ON THE PINE RIDGE. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 183
ON THE BELIZE RIVER. " " 187
CARIB WOMEN. (Photograph by H. PRICE.) 192
CHICHÉN ITZÁ. THE CASA DE MONJAS. (Drawn by ANNIE HUNTER from a
photograph by A. P. M.) 202
" " MY ROOM, 1889. (Photograph by H. N. SWEET.) _to face_ 202
" " "LA IGLESIA." " " _to face_ 202
" " FOOT OF THE NORTH STAIRWAY OF THE CASTILLO. (Drawn by
ANNIE HUNTER from a photograph by H. N. SWEET.) 204
" " THE CASTILLO. (Photograph by H. N. SWEET.) _to face_ 204
" " THE BALL COURT TEMPLE, restored. (Drawn by ANNIE
HUNTER from photographs and plans by A. P. M.) _to face_ 206
" " MURAL PAINTING OF A BATTLE, from the Great Ball Court
Temple. (Traced by A. P. M. from the original and reduced.)
_to face_ 206
" " MURAL PAINTING OF A HUMAN SACRIFICE, from the Great Ball
Court Temple. (Traced by A. P. M. from the original and reduced.) 207
" " FIGURES ON THE WALL OF THE SCULPTURED CHAMBER.
(Drawn by ANNIE HUNTER from a plaster-cast.) 208
PALENQUE. GORGONIO LOPEZ, 1891. (Photograph by A. P. M.)
_to face_ 224
" THE EASTERN COURT. " " _to face_ 226
" THE WESTERN COURT AND TOWER. " " _to face_ 226
" CARVED PANEL from the Temple of the Foliated Cross. (Drawn
by ANNIE HUNTER from a plaster-cast.) _to face_ 228
" THE TEMPLE OF THE SUN AND THE PALACE. (From a photograph
by A. P. M.) _to face_ 228
THE SERPENT-BIRD, from Tikál. 229
SACLUC (LA LIBERTAD). (Photograph by A. P. M.) 230
TIKÁL. VIEW FROM THE (DOORWAY OF THE) GREAT TEMPLE E. (Photograph
by A. P. M.) _to face_ 232
" TEMPLE marked A in the plan. (Photograph by A. P. M.)
_to face_ 234
" CAMP IN THE FOREST. " " _to face_ 234
LACANDONES. " " _to face_ 236
THE RIO USUMACINTA AT MENCHÉ. " " _to face_ 236
MENCHÉ. POTTERY INCENSE BURNERS. (Drawn by ANNIE HUNTER.) 238
" TEMPLE A. (Photograph by A. P. M.) _to face_ 238
" FRAGMENT OF A STONE LINTEL. _to face_ 240
FLORES. (Photograph by A. P. M.) 241
THE ISLAND OF FLORES. " " 243
THE SERPENT-BIRDS, PALENQUE. 253
MONTH AND DAY SIGNS. (AFTER LANDA.) 255
MAYA NUMERALS. 256
SIGNS FOR PERIODS OF TIME. 259
GREAT CYCLE SIGNS AND DAY SIGNS. 260
MONTH SIGNS. 261
HIEROGLYPHIC INSCRIPTIONS. _to face_ 262
MAYA INSCRIPTIONS FROM PIEDRAS NEGRAS. (TEOBERT MALER.) _to face_ 264
ADIOS! _to face_ 272
LIST OF MAPS AND PLANS.
Page
PLAN OF THE RUINED TOWN BETWEEN GUATEMALA AND MIXCO. (A. P. M.) 18
UTATLAN, the ancient capital of the Quichés. " _to face_ 62
RUINS NEAR RABINAL. (2 plates.) " _to face_ 102
" " " Ground-plan of Tlachtli Court. " 104
COPAN. Plan of the principal ruined structures. " _to face_ 118
" Sketch-map of the site of the Ruins. " 127
QUIRIGUA. Plan of the Ruins. (C. BLOCKLEY and H. W. PRICE.)
_to face_ 148
IXKUN. Plan of the Ruins. (A. P. M.) _to face_ 174
YAXCHÉ. Ground-plan of a Temple. " 177
" Arrangement of Mounds on a hill-top. " 178
CHICHÉN ITZÁ. Plan of the Ruins. " _to face_ 200
" " Plan of the Great Ball Court. " _to face_ 204
PALENQUE. Plan of the principal group of Ruins. {(Surveyed by } 218
{H. W. PRICE.)}
" Plan of the Palace. " _to face_ 226
" Plan and Section of the Temple of the Sun. " 228
TIKÁL. Plan of the Ruins. (A. P. M.) _to face_ 232
" Plan of the Foundation-mound and Temple A. " 233
" Plan and Section of Temple B. " 233
" Plan of Temple D. " 234
MENCHÉ TINAMIT. Plan of the Ruins. " _to face_ 238
MAP OF GUATEMALA AND THE ADJACENT COUNTRIES. 272
The Maps and Plans are reduced copies of those already published, or in
course of publication in the 'Biologia Centrali-Americana' (Archæology).
END PAPERS. Drawn from ancient American originals by Miss ANNIE HUNTER.
PHOTOGRAVURES. By the SWAN ELECTRIC ENGRAVING COMPANY.
CHROMOLITHOGRAPHS. By W. GRIGGS & SONS, Ltd.
ETCHINGS ON TISSUE. By the TYPOGRAPHIC ETCHING COMPANY.
INDEX. By Miss M. H. JAMES.
ERRATA.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The following errata have been corrected as part
of the process of producing this e-text. Spelling, hyphenation,
punctuation etc have also been standardised.
Page 151, _for_ Brockley _read_ Blockley.
" 4, " dosing " dozing.
" 191, " Izamal " Yzamal.
" 176, " Manakin " Manikin.
" 81, " Mosos " Mozos.
" 72, " Patzum " Patzun.
" 190, " Stevens " Stephens.
" 85, " Ututlan " Utatlan.
A GLIMPSE AT GUATEMALA,
AND
SOME NOTES ON THE
ANCIENT MONUMENTS OF CENTRAL AMERICA.
CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE.
We left England early in October, 1893, and on the 13th November found
ourselves in San Francisco. Our passages were taken in a steamer
advertised to sail from that Port on the 18th of the month for San José
de Guatemala, but no sooner had we set foot in the Palace Hotel, than
the Influenza fiend seized us both; so we were obliged to give up our
cabins in the steamer, and, as soon as we were well enough to travel,
were ordered by the doctor to leave San Francisco and its cold winds
for the more agreeable climate of Monterey. The railroad took us in
four hours through the fruitful plain of San Joaquin, and landed us
almost at the door of the Hotel del Monte, a huge low wooden building
standing in the midst of a grove of magnificent evergreen oak trees,
and surrounded by beautiful flower-gardens and exquisite green grass.
The many porticos and verandahs were bowers of roses and heliotrope
and every variety of creeper, and the garden beds were brilliant with
magnificent dahlias and chrysanthemums and numberless smaller flowers.
Chinese gardeners could be seen in all directions tending the plants,
and watering the lawn-grass to keep it fresh and green, in striking
contrast to the yellow stubble which during the dry season covers the
face of the surrounding country.
The Hotel del Monte is a favourite winter resort of people from the
Eastern States as well as from California, and it would be difficult
to imagine a more attractive place in which to seek health, warmth, or
pleasure. Everything possible seems to be provided for the amusement
and comfort of the guests; but in the late autumn it is almost
deserted, and the dozen of us who sat down to dinner were lost in the
huge dining-room built to accommodate nearly two thousand guests. We
found many attractive walks in the neighbourhood, either across the
great sand-dunes down to the fine hard sea-beach, or up amongst the
beautiful groves of immense live-oaks and cedars with which the place
abounds.
One morning on coming down to breakfast we were told that we were
wanted at the telephone, and found that an old friend, Professor
Holden, was speaking to us from the top of Mount Hamilton and bidding
us to visit him at the great Lick Observatory, of which he has the
charge. It was with regret that we left the enchanting land of flowers
and green grass; but our time was short and the prospect of seeing the
stars through the biggest telescope in the world was too attractive to
be missed. So, following the directions conveyed by telephone, we took
the train to the town of San José, where we passed the night, and on
the following morning, in a pouring rain, packed away in a two-horse
wagon with a high top and heavy leather curtains buttoned down to keep
out the wet, we began the six hours' journey up the mountain.
There was nothing to be seen but fog and smoking horses, and although,
as usual, we were assured that the weather was most exceptional, no
one attempted to predict anything better; and, indeed, it grew worse
and worse until our arrival at the top of the mountain, when it was
difficult to see more than a few yards around us, and we seemed to be
standing on a small point of rock while the world below was filled with
cold whirling mist, which penetrated to the marrow of our bones.
During our three days' visit, once only, for a brief hour, did the
clouds break and show us to the east the great mountains rising to
the height of the Sierra Nevada, and to the west the broad plain we
had crossed, which, protected by a low range of hills from the cold
sea winds, yields that abundance of fruits which, fresh or preserved,
yearly finds its way to foreign markets. Towards the north we could see
the smoke of San Francisco, and even in the partial clearness make out
the ships lying in the harbour.
Despite the bad weather our visit was made most enjoyable, but it was
a real disappointment not to get so much as a peep through the great
telescope. However, we could not afford to miss another steamer, as
that would have meant losing too much of the dry season in Guatemala.
So reluctantly bidding our host good-bye we went to San Francisco,
still followed by clouds and fog, which not only detained the steamer
for twenty hours in the harbour, but clung to us tenaciously until we
had been at sea five days and had run over a thousand miles.
Our ship, the 'San Juan,' belongs to the Pacific Mail Steamship
Company, and runs between San Francisco and Panama in connection
with the steamers sailing from Colon to New York. The accommodation
was fairly good, but she carried too much deck cargo for comfort or
safety, and one felt that she might labour dangerously in a heavy sea.
Since our return the news has reached us of the wreck of the steamship
'Colima' of the same line, occasioned by the shifting of the deck
cargo, and we feel thankful to have been spared the dreadful fate which
befell her passengers.
Our fellow voyagers in the 'San Juan' were mostly men, Americans and
Spanish Americans, and they were distinctly dull. Indeed life on board
was monotonous enough to all of us. The Spaniards took their boredom
quietly, but it became well nigh intolerable to one Western American,
whose talk was of twenty-storied houses and other boasted signs of
progress at his own home, and who was now bound for Guatemala, where he
apparently hoped to make a rapid fortune by running trolley-cars on the
streets of the capital and generally electrifying the city.
The first few days of the voyage were certainly dull enough to tax
anyone's spirits; but when we were about 200 miles north of Cape St.
Lucas the dark pall of clouds broke away, and the sun burst out in all
his glory, changing the sea from a leaden grey to a wonderful blue;
awnings were stretched over the decks, and we lay languidly in our
chairs watching the changing shadows, while the great rollers of the
Pacific gently rocked the ship, and soft warm winds blew over us. So
soothing and delicious a motion I had never before experienced at sea,
and in spite of my rooted objection to a ship I fell a victim to the
lazy charm that seemed to hold sea and vessel in a sort of magic spell,
and for the first time in my life I thoroughly enjoyed a sea voyage.
Soon we came in sight of the black-looking foothills of the Mexican
coast. As we slowly sailed into the tropics, they lost their bareness,
and became clothed with a rich vegetation, and then fringed with
bananas and cocoanut-palms. Gradually rising higher, the hills grew
into mountainous masses broken by volcanic peaks, and from one lofty
cone a wreath of smoke drifted languidly on the breeze.
As the temperature of air and water grew warmer the sea became alive
with flying-fish, and shoals of dolphins, four or five hundred
together, played round our bows or dashed across our course, leaping
and throwing up the water in fountains of spray. Large turtles floated
past lying asleep on the surface of the water, their shining backs
catching the sunlight and reflecting it like mirrors. The sea-birds
regarded them as convenient resting-places, and almost every sleeping
turtle carried on his back a dozing bird which flapped lazily away,
apparently shocked at the behaviour of the turtle when the approach of
our ship caused him to take a sudden dive below.
All day the sea and its inhabitants yielded us endless amusement; the
evenings were gorgeous with tropical sunsets and the nights revealed
a brilliancy and glory in moon and stars that surpassed all my
imaginings. We sat up late watching the north star sinking lower and
lower, and marking the rise of strange constellations towards the south.
It must be remembered that I am a very bad sailor, that my experience
of sea voyages had been confined to many rough and wintry passages
across the North Atlantic, and that all the softness and colour and
beauty of a tropical ocean broke on me like a revelation.
Our first port was San Blas, on the Mexican side of the Gulf of
California. It boasts no harbour, so that we dropped anchor in the
open roadstead, and lay as near shore as safety permitted, rocked by
the big rollers of the restless Pacific as they passed to break on the
sandy beaches and rugged cliffs of the coast. A few thatched cottages
were clustered round the Custom House, and others were dotted along the
beach half-hidden amongst cocoanut-palms and bananas and a tangle of
tropical vegetation, whilst behind them rose a fine mass of mountains
clothed in the softest imaginable shades of green with lovely blue
distances stretching for miles into the interior. Big picturesque
boats, rowed by Mexicans in huge broad hats and clean white shirts and
trousers, came to deliver and take back cargo, and to supply us with
fruits and vegetables. With our glasses we watched the great dexterity
with which the boats were handled and guided safely through the heavy
surf.
It was rather late in the day when we weighed anchor, and sailing
close in shore we could entertain ourselves until dark marking the
varied play of light and shade on the rocky shore as the sun sank, and
watching the pelicans perched on every point and ledge of rock, some
idly sunning themselves out of reach of the spray, but the majority
choosing to stand where the surging waves could just wash over their
feet, whilst others wheeled overhead in slow heavy flight searching
for their food. It was an exciting moment when a great bird high up in
the air would suddenly fold his wings together and fall with a splash
on the water, whilst his long neck and beak were shot out to catch an
unwary fish just under the surface; then having secured his supper he
would fly away to enjoy it in a safe retreat amongst the rocks.
Sailing under cloudless skies and lovely stars through another night,
we arrived at Manzanillo, the port of Colima, proud in the possession
of a railway and a weekly train from the port to the city. Here we
landed, to enjoy an hour's walk through the little town, and resting
under the trees of the Alameda I had my first glimpse of a tropical
garden.
Whilst waiting for the boat to carry us back to the ship we enjoyed the
excitement of watching the natives trying to spear a great skate, or
devil-fish, as the sailors call it. As soon as the harpoon struck, the
cord was attached to a boat, and the fish swam rapidly away towing the
boat after him with the greatest ease. The struggle must have already
lasted half an hour when we sailed out of the bay and the fish was not
yet vanquished. Later in the day we saw one of these monsters jump
right out of the sea and with a great flop strike the water again,
spreading out his flat proportions like a table, and making a sound
like the report of a cannon.
On the evening of December 7th we arrived at the Port of Acapulco,
and sailed into the beautiful bay, through a tortuous channel between
high cliffs, guided by a feeble light perched on the rocks above us.
The sea was a marvel of beauty, glowing with phosphorus, and alive
with illuminated fish and dolphins darting about and leaving long
streams of light behind them. Through this molten silver sea we glided
to our anchorage near the town. As we neared the shore long narrow
dug-out canoes lighted by great flaring pitch-pine torches carried by
mahogany-coloured boys swarmed out of the darkness, and before the
anchor was cast the ship was surrounded by a fringe of bum-boats,
filled with fruit, vegetables, and pottery, and presided over by
swarthy Mexican men and women.
It was a pretty and amusing scene, and as the bum-boat women and their
smuggling propensities were well known to the ship's crew, a lively
fire of chaff and bargaining in a strange jargon of Spanish-English
immediately began, and continued, as far as I know, all night. It
certainly was a noisy night, and was rendered doubly unpleasant by the
arrival of huge coal-barges manned by picturesque little black devils
in dirty white garments, carrying flaring torches, who passed the night
supplying us with coal and smothering us with dust.
When the sun rose on the next morning the heat was excessive, and as
the town itself looked unattractive, and the surrounding country,
although beautiful to look at, suggested malaria, we did not attempt to
land, but contented ourselves watching the vendors of fruits, who when
the day broke were still actively engaged in bargaining. On leaving the
harbour before noon we hugged the coast even closer than before; so
that besides the entertainment afforded by the ocean and its varied and
interesting population, we could rest our eyes on the refreshing green
vegetation covering the mountains, which pile themselves up, range
after range, and on the rocky headlands and shining sand-beaches of the
coast-line.
[Illustration: ACAPULCO: A SNAPSHOT OVER THE BULWARKS.]
Sailors fight shy of the heavy seas in the Gulf of Tehuantepec caused
by the northerly winds which rush across the isthmus from the Atlantic;
and during the winter months, in spite of the increased distance to be
travelled, they gain all the shelter they can by hugging the shore. On
this occasion there was no exception to the rule. The weather had been
hot, cloudless, and calm, but as soon as we entered the gulf we felt a
quick fall in temperature and a distinct increase in the motion. When
about halfway round the gulf, we dimly discerned on the horizon the
beginnings of the long line of mountains and volcanoes which follow the
coast almost from Tehuantepec to Panama. Gradually as we sailed nearer
individual volcanic peaks rose above the broken mass: first Tacaná and
Tajumulco, the highest of them all, and then the crests of Santa Maria
and Atitlan, and last of all we could recognize the soft outlines of
Agua and Fuego, shaded by fleecy wrappings of cloud, and knew that our
voyage was near its end.
In full view of this grand panorama of mountains we cast anchor at the
port of Champerico, where for many long hot hours we lay rolling in the
heavy ground-swell of the open roadstead, while discharging and taking
in cargo and waiting for the passengers to come on board. The town was
_en fiesta_ on account of the visit of General Barrios, President of
Guatemala, and his staff, who were to be our fellow-passengers to the
port of San José. Several ships lying in the roadstead were dressed
with flags, and even our dirty old steamer did her best in the way
of bunting to do honour to so distinguished a guest. We tried to be
duly impressed by the festivities and rejoicings, but the grand blaze
of blue lights and showers of rockets which followed us out to sea
hardly compensated for loss of time and the general discomfort of an
overcrowded ship. The President's party took entire possession of
everything; they sprawled all over the decks, went to sleep in our two
deck chairs, and succeeded in breaking both of them. Fortunately, a
short night's sail brought us to the port of San José, and also to the
end of our pleasant voyage.
Again we anchored in the open sea, and when the time came to go
ashore we were each in turn swung over the ship's side in a chair and
deposited with a bump on the top of the other passengers and piles of
baggage in a large lighter which swayed alongside. This operation was
reversed when we neared the shore, and a cage was lowered from the iron
pier which loomed prodigiously and alarmingly high above us, and we
were swung up in safety. Thank goodness there was no sea running, only
the long undulations of the swell which beats ceaselessly on the coast.
Even so, landing was an unpleasant experience, and what it must be on
a rough day my mind refuses to contemplate; but one must remember that
even the terror of seizing the right moment to scramble from a surging
lighter into a heavy iron cage, which at one moment strikes against the
bottom of the boat and the next moment hangs threateningly overhead,
is preferable to that of the older method when the lighter was dragged
through the surf, and the unfortunate passengers landed, soaked and
terrified, even if they were lucky enough to escape a capsize and the
teeth of hungry sharks.
A long glistening hot sand beach facing south, a background of
palm-trees and bananas, a few houses, and an illimitable ocean
describes the port of San José. There is not a decent inn in the
place, and our condition on seeing the only train for Guatemala leave
without us (owing to the delay in getting our belongings past the
custom-house) would have been pitiable, but for the kind hospitality of
Colonel Stuart, the agent for the steamship line, who took us into his
house on the beach and made us most comfortable for the night.
The next morning we took the train for the capital, distant about 70
miles. Our way lay through a thick growth of wild vegetation, varied by
banana-plantations and groves of cocoanut-trees laden with fruit. Every
small tree supported a wealth of flowering "morning glories" and other
creepers, while big patches of sunflowers filled in the open spaces.
[Illustration]
The railway soon began to ascend, and making innumerable turns among
the mountains opened up charming views of the tropical forest, and gave
us glimpses of the sea and the shining sand beach stretching for miles
along the coast. Not the least interesting features in the journey
were the endless variety of strange fruits offered us for sale, and
the glimpses of native life which we caught at the wayside stations.
Through ever-changing scenes, always climbing and winding through the
mountains, we reached the pretty lake of Amatitlan, at an elevation of
about 4000 feet above the sea, and, rising still another 1000 feet, we
arrived late in the afternoon at the city of Guatemala, standing on
a level plateau seamed with great ravines, or barrancas as they are
here called. Two of these big ravines nearly encircle the city, and as
they slowly but surely eat their way backwards threaten to curtail its
growth.
CHAPTER II.
THE CITY.
[Illustration: CITY OF GUATEMALA, FROM THE CERRO DEL CARMEN.]
The city of Guatemala occupies a beautiful position in the middle of a
broad plain, surrounded on all sides by mountains and volcanoes. Hill
after hill rises to the north until the view is shut in by the distant
Sierra Madre range. To the south-east is a volcanic group crowned by
the peaks of Pacaya, and above the nearer hills to the south rise the
giant cone of Agua and the triple craters of Fuego.
The streets of the city are laid out at right angles, and they gain
an appearance of breadth from the lowness of the houses. Two-storied
houses are as scarce as earthquakes are frequent, and the long low
lines of buildings are broken only by the stumpy bell-towers and squat
cupolas of the churches.
Churches and houses alike are white-washed, and the general effect
is cheerful and even dazzling in the bright sunlight of the tropics.
Street tramways, telegraph and telephone wires, and electric lights are
there to keep us up to date; but in spite of their intrusion, it is Old
Spain--the Spain of the Moors--which comes uppermost in one's mind when
wandering about the city. The deep-set windows, barred with the heavy
iron "reja," and the broad "zaguan" or porch, through which one catches
a glimpse of the arches of a colonnade round a patio bright with
flowers or chequered with the grateful shade of trees, take one back at
once to the sunny plains of Andalusia. Nothing in the whole city was so
attractive to both of us as the great market-place, and there we spent
many hours. Every morning the broad streets leading to it were thronged
with gaily-dressed ladinos (half-castes) and Indians, and we were even
driven by frequent collisions to quit the narrow side-walk for the
rough cobble-stones of the street.
The Indians are for the most part carriers of vegetables and other
produce from the neighbouring villages, or merchants from a distance,
who bring all their merchandise on their backs packed in light wooden
crates called "cacastes." The Indian women from the nearer hamlets also
come burdened with large bundles of clean linen which has been washed
for the townsfolk, or support baskets on their heads full of cakes and
"pan dulce" for sale in the market-place, and many carry an additional
burden slung in a shawl over the back, from which peeps out the quaint
little face of an Indian baby. To judge from the expression of their
faces one would say that the Indians are a dull and solemn race; but
this impression vanishes when one hears their lively chatter as they
trot along under their burdens, for none but the most heavily laden
condescend to the slowness of a walk.
The ladino housekeepers and maid-servants with their bright striped
aprons and rebosos add to the crowd, and give it a distinct charm when
they poise their large flat baskets on their heads and show their
shapely bare arms and pretty hands to advantage. One is not long in the
city before hearing the wails of the mistresses at the length of time
spent by their servants in buying a few vegetables or a dozen eggs,
for, indeed, these handmaidens dearly love the loitering and chatter of
the market-place.
The market-place itself is divided into two large patios surrounded
and crossed by corridors. Small recesses in the walls are used as
shops, like those in an eastern bazaar. Here the vendors of the durable
articles ply their trade, offering for sale hardware and saddlery and
all the innumerable sacks, bags, ropes, and girths needed for the
trains of pack-mules; whilst others deck out their stalls with the
bright-coloured dress fabrics so much loved by the natives. Towards
the middle of the market-place, where the light fell strongest, colour
reigned supreme in the rainbow hues of the women's dresses and the
brilliant tints of the tropical fruits. Here are heaped up mountains of
golden oranges, red, yellow, and green bananas, cocoanuts, pine-apples,
aguacates, anonas, and tomatoes large and small, jocotes, pimientos,
limes, and sweet lemons, great bunches of flowers, endless bundles of
green vegetables, and baskets piled high with fresh eggs; in fact the
produce of every clime, from potatoes grown on the cold slopes of Agua
to the sugar-cane from the hot plains of the Pacific coast.
At Christmas time another market is held in the arcades which surround
the great Plaza de Armas, where the women display their handiwork in
the manufacture of toys, most of them tiny dolls dressed in the Indian
costumes and illustrating the occupations and customs of the race.
Some of these little groups of figures are so extremely minute that
one almost needs a magnifying-glass to examine them, and attest the
clearness of vision and neatness of hand of the makers.
The shops and stores of the principal merchants are numerous, and, I
suppose, under the circumstances, may be said to be fairly good, but
to one coming from Europe or the United States the articles displayed
are not very enticing. Most of the foreign goods are of a class which
must, I think, be manufactured only for export to a semicivilized
country. They do not, however, possess the merit of cheapness, for the
exorbitant duties levied at the Custom House would alone more than
double their original price. My efforts to buy a good silk veil to wear
when travelling, as a protection against the dust, were not crowned
with success; and the French modiste from whom I finally purchased a
very second-rate article amused me greatly by her description of the
difficulties she met with in satisfying the taste of her clients in a
country where duties are levied on bonnets and hats by weight, and the
boxes and paper in which they are packed are also weighed and charged
for at the same rate.
Three-quarters of the foreign trade is in German hands, and many
Germans have been wise enough to settle on the rich coffee-lands of the
Costa Grande and Costa Cuca on the Pacific slope, and in the province
of the Vera Paz, and have made a splendid success of their plantations.
Next to the Germans the North Americans are most in evidence, but the
English are not to be found.
When the capital was moved to its present site in the year 1774,
priests and monks were still a power in the land and the finest
buildings in the city were raised by the monastic orders. Now not a
monk or friar is to be found in the country, and even the secular
clergy are forbidden to wear any distinctive dress. From the time of
the rupture with Spain ecclesiastical influence began to decline; it
rose again for a time under the rule of the Dictator Carrera, an Indian
of pure blood, whom the priests found it worth while to support; but
during the wars which followed Carrera's death it again waned, and
in 1872 the last of the great Orders was expelled and its property
seized by the government and turned to secular use. The Post Office
and Custom House are now lodged in the monastery of San Francisco; the
"Instituto Nacional," a great public school, is well housed in what was
once the Jesuit College; the military school is in the Recoletos. The
monastery of Santo Domingo harbours the "Direccion general de Licores,"
the Capuchinos is utilized for a second theatre, and some of the less
important religious houses serve as "mesones" or caravanserais for the
muleteers and ladino travellers.
The churches are still left to the secular clergy, and they are as
uninteresting as Spanish-American churches are wont to be. Had the
conquest occurred but a century earlier America might have been
covered with churches worthy of the traditions handed down by the
builders of Burgos, Toledo, and Seville, for the supply of labourers
was for some time unlimited, the Indians were good craftsmen, and the
great monuments of Copan and Quirigua show that curved and drooping
feathers may afford a motive for decoration as graceful and beautiful
as Gothic foliations; but such art as the Spaniards brought with them
was a degraded form of the renaissance, and the innumerable churches
which they built are without any architectural merit but mass, the
interiors great bare halls, and the façades overloaded with stumpy
twisted columns, wavy stucco cornices, and such-like abominations. Not
even the ruin into which so many of them have fallen can add a grace
to the masses of stucco and rubble. It is only in the villages that
they gain a picturesqueness of their own, and that owing more to their
surroundings than to any merit in design. However, in their favour
it must be said that they are neither dirty nor bad-smelling, partly
because they are so little used and partly because in this equable
climate doors and windows can be left open all day long.
A few days before Christmas we happened to enter the church of La
Merced and chanced upon a vesper service for the Hijas de Maria, sung
by a choir of girls and children to the strains of a wheezy harmonium,
whilst all did their best to increase the noise by blowing penny
whistles, shaking bells and tambourines, and striking triangles. After
playing with their penny toys until they were tired, the choir broke
into a quaint chant, to which the rest of the congregation responded.
During this performance the "Daughters of Mary," veiled and dressed in
white, and each carrying a lighted candle in her hand, knelt at the
altar rails, whilst the "Sons of Mary," with large white ribbon bows
tied on their arms, sat in the seats near the choir. This was almost
the only ladino church-function which we saw during our stay in the
country. In all the other towns and villages the churches seemed to be
given over almost exclusively to the Indians.
In our rambles through the suburbs we often found our path barred by
the great barrancas which almost surround the town. These big fissures
are very beautiful, and we spent many idle and pleasant hours watching
the shadows chasing each other across their open green mouths, and
enjoying the delicious June temperature which comes to this favoured
land at Christmas time. Trees and shrubs loaded with festoons of
creeping plants cling to the precipitous sides of these rifts, and
now and then one caught a bright gleam where the sunlight struck the
rivulet that bubbles through the luxuriant tropical vegetation in the
depths. The great Zopilote vulture which seems to haunt every barranca
would swoop with a whirr of his outstretched wings close above our
heads and sail on over the chasm with hardly a quiver in his wings, but
with his ugly black head and restless eyes always in eager movement,
whilst from below now and again would well up the strong sweet notes of
the "guarda barranca," a small brown bird, who makes his home in the
most inaccessible cliffs and deepest tree-clad gorges.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The usual evening stroll of the Guatemaltecos is to the Cerro del
Carmen, a small turf-covered hill rising to the north-east of the city,
where stands an old church and the remains of a monastery, perhaps the
oldest in the Republic. From this hill the view of the city with its
large white churches and conventual buildings, surrounded by walled
gardens full of trees and flowers, is very beautiful at any hour of
the day, but at sunset the sight is one not easily forgotten. It is
difficult to describe the beauty of the amphitheatre of mountains all
aglow in the sunset light, or of the majesty of the clouds as they
float up from the distant sea, wreathing themselves round Agua and
Fuego, filling up the valleys with mists of every possible hue, which
take on a deeper colour as they drift away from the setting sun and
fill the vault of the heavens. Then the east takes up what light the
clouds have left behind and shoots up to the zenith splendid rays of
colour, which meet those of the setting sun as it sinks behind the
mountain peaks. Too soon the short twilight ends and the volcanoes
clothe themselves in a bloom of dark blue, and receding into the night
seem to sleep quietly under the brilliant tropical stars.
It was a lovely scene, which we always left reluctantly for the
comfortless hotel and a bad dinner. But not even our dusty room
nor the dark stuffy "comedor," where we took our meals, could
obliterate the vision of that brilliant pageant of marching clouds
and magnificent colouring which had surrounded us on the Cerro del
Carmen. The less said about Guatemala hotels the better; those in the
capital are pretentious and bad. The Grand Hotel, where we put up, is
a good-sized house, with patios and broad corridors and good rooms,
but the furnishings are old, dirty, and disagreeably stuffy. In the
dining-room, which was always overcrowded, we were not permitted to
engage one of the many small tables, and had to take our chance of
companions and table-cloths; the former not always agreeable and the
latter often unbearable. Good food might have done much to soothe
our troubled feelings, but it never came, and this was all the more
aggravating as the market was full of good things to eat. The bedroom
service, carried on by a very dirty man, was uncomfortable beyond
expression, and a large part of my day was always passed cleaning
and tidying the single room which was all the accommodation we could
secure. Appeals to the landlord, a German, who, thanks to the cook
whom he had married, had grown rich and proportionately proud, and
who was also the owner of the large store attached to the hotel,
resulted in nothing but a polite bow, a hand pointing the while to
a pile of telegrams, and a suggestion that if the Señora proposed
making different arrangements others were more than willing to engage
her room. However, we were most fortunate in finding the kindest of
friends at the British Legation and amongst the foreign residents, who
rescued us from bad dinners and smelling oil-lamps, entertaining us so
hospitably as to make us forget the distance from home at Christmas
time; and although the atmosphere would have afforded no clue to the
season as we know it in the north, there was no mistaking its kindly
greetings and its roast turkeys and plum puddings.
CHAPTER III.
THE START.
[Illustration: STONE IDOLS ON THE ROAD TO MIXCO.]
At the end of three weeks all our outfit for the journey, including
numerous cases of provisions, had, by the kindness of the Government,
been passed through the Custom House free of duty, and we at once
set to work sorting the provisions and repacking them in smaller
boxes--some to be carried with us, others to be sent on to various
points on the road to await our arrival.
We had already purchased seven cargo-mules and one horse, none of them
in very good condition, for sound and well-conditioned animals were not
only very expensive, but exceedingly scarce, and we were forced to take
what we could find.
No trained riding-mule could be found for me, so I had to make my
choice of a steed from amongst the pack-mules, and picked out the
smallest, principally because she had a pretty head and held her ears
well forward. No doubt these are not all the points I should have
attended to; but no choice could have proved more fortunate, and it
would have been difficult to find in the whole country a gentler or
more sure-footed creature. Her feet were unshod and her power of
holding on to slippery rocks was positively astounding. I soon learnt
to leave her reins loose and let her pick her own way, which she did
with the greatest care, whether scrambling up the rough hillsides, or,
with her hind feet kept well together, sliding down perilously steep
and slippery mountain-paths. Her temper was above reproach, but it
required much prodding to get her out of the steady walk to which her
life in a pack-train had accustomed her; however, when once fairly
started, she paced easily and comfortably. I cannot say too much in
praise of my mule, for she solved the one great question which weighed
on my mind: how was I, who had never ridden before, to traverse the
difficult country which lay in front of us? Trusting to her superior
knowledge and good sense, I was carried in safety for more than five
hundred miles, in daylight and in dark, over mountains and across
rivers, from the Pacific to the shores of the Atlantic, without a
stumble and without even the feeling of fear; and when at last I had to
part with her at Yzabal, it was with real regret, and the feeling that
I was saying good-bye to an old and valued friend.
Our party at the start numbered five--our two selves, Gorgonio Lopes
(my husband's faithful companion during many earlier expeditions), his
son Caralampio, and Santos the arriero; our train was made up of the
six cargo-mules, three saddle-mules, and a horse, and to this must be
added four or five Indian cargadores, bearing loads which could not be
conveniently carried on pack-saddles.
My husband rode the horse, which, although not a very
magnificent-looking animal, gave a certain air of respectability to
the train. Gorgonio's mule was a wise old beast with a rough and
varied experience of life, who seemed to have been brought more out
of sentiment than for use, for Gorgonio persistently walked up and
down all the hills, and sometimes on the flat, so as to lighten her
labours. He had strange stories to tell of her adventures. Once, when
on a journey in Honduras, she was stolen from him and he had to return
home to Coban and give up all hope of seeing her again; it was not
until long afterwards that he learnt that the thief was the Juez de paz
(the local Judge). At the end of a year the Governor of the Province,
having heard of the shortcomings of his subordinate, took possession of
the mule, but, somehow or other, forgot to give any information to her
real owner, and had her sent away to a distant rancho; there possibly
her existence might have been forgotten and her brand have changed
its shape, had it not been that, by the merest chance, a doctor, who
was an old friend of Gorgonio, recognized the mule and gave him the
information which led to her recovery. Caralampio's mule was like Mr.
Kipling's Battery mule--a mule; and mine was the excellent creature I
have described.
On the 2nd of January we left the capital, mounting our mules just
outside the main streets of the town, as a concession to my feelings
of bashfulness; for I had no wish to shock the sensibilities of the
fashionable society of the capital by riding through the streets in
a short walking-dress, or to expose my bad horsemanship to their
criticism. We passed to the right of the fort or Castle of San José,
which commands the city, and then for about a mile followed the road
bordered by straggling houses to the Guarda viejo. On passing through
the gate we turned to the right across a narrow strip of land between
deep barrancas, and then found ourselves fairly in the country.
On the plain through which our road lay there must have stood in olden
times a fair-sized town, if one can judge from the large number of
grass-grown mounds scattered over its surface; but it is now the mere
ghost of a town, without history and without name, and the two squat
figures carved in a hard stone which stand by the roadside at the
gate of a small hacienda are all that remains to show the art of the
builders, although careful investigation would no doubt reveal much
more of interest. The sketch-plan on the next page was made by my
husband some years ago.
We had set out late in the afternoon, and our first journey was
purposely a short one of eight miles,--just enough to settle down men
and mules to their work,--to the small town of Mixco, the home of
arrieros, mules, washerwomen, and bakers and purveyors in general to
the capital. The short twilight faded away as we crossed the plain,
and it was dark before we entered the deep barranca which had to be
crossed before the town could be reached. I must confess that my heart
was in my mouth as I felt rather than saw the steep rough road that
lay before me--for be it remembered that I knew nothing as yet of the
surefootedness of my mule,--but I soon felt that she was more at home
crawling down the side of a barranca than when shuffling along the
dusty high road; then I grew very brave, gave her my full confidence,
and never after repented of the gift. My first barranca successfully
passed, we clambered into the deserted street, crossed the plaza, and,
guided by Gorgonio, groped our way in the pitchy darkness down another
paved street, which seemed to be as steep as the roof of a house, and
found ourselves in the courtyard of a straggling one-storied building
dignified by the name of hotel.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE RUINED TOWN BETWEEN GUATEMALA AND MIXCO.]
After many fruitless efforts to attract some attention, a woman
appeared with a candle and led us to a sort of outhouse which had been
engaged for us by Caralampio, who had preceded us with the pack animals
and cargadores. This apartment was not prepossessing; its furniture
consisted of two miserable beds, a table, two infirm chairs, a wooden
bench, and a sewing-machine, and in one corner our servants had piled
up indiscriminately provision-boxes, mule-trunks, tents, beds, and
pack-saddles, so that confusion was added to discomfort.
[Illustration: A STREET IN MIXCO.]
My husband and Gorgonio were particularly assiduous in their attentions
to me and in their efforts to improve matters, each in his way rather
alarmed as to what effect this sudden plunge into semi-civilization
might produce on a novice. They were lavish in the use of candles from
our store, and Gorgonio went off to forage for supper, whilst the other
men were set to work to put the baggage into something like order.
Before long the usual food of the country--fried eggs, frijoles (black
beans), and tortillas (thin round cakes of Indian corn)--was brought to
us, and to this fare we added a tin of good chicken-broth, cooked on
our own spirit-lamp. Bread, which I afterwards found to be usually the
first thing placed on the table of a Central-American inn, was on this
occasion lacking; and we learnt that a company of soldiers, on their
way to a distant station, had passed through the town in the morning
and eaten up all the bread, so nothing was left for us but a little
stale 'pan dulce.' However, we made a good supper, and even enjoyed the
stale 'pan dulce' with the help of a cup of delicious coffee, a luxury
which the traveller in Guatemala may usually count on finding even in
the poorest posada.
As soon as we were comfortable Gorgonio left us to assure himself
that the arriero had attended to the wants of the beasts, and found
them safely tied up in the yard outside our door, each with a bundle
of "sacate de milpa" (the leaves and stems of the maize-plant) for
his supper. In my opinion Gorgonio holds a unique position amongst
his countrymen on account of his sympathy with dumb animals, and it
is well for the mule-train which falls under his management. The kind
soul never thought of refreshing himself until the mules had been
attended to, and no beautiful scenery or convenient camping-ground had
any charms for him if there was a scarcity of food "para las pobres
mulas." His horror lest the animals should suffer stood out in striking
contrast to the callousness and brutality which one noticed every day
amongst the half-caste muleteers.
Supper disposed of we turned our attention to the bed question, and
after examining those provided for us, determined to open our own
camp-cots. But, alas! neither persuasion nor force would induce the
swollen plugs to fit into their sockets, and we were obliged to sleep
on the beds belonging to the hotel. A message came from the patrona to
the effect that clean sheets were to be had if they were needed, and
when these arrived we carefully wrapped the suspected mattresses up in
them, and rolling ourselves in our blankets, knew nothing more until
the sunlight streaming into the room awakened us to a lovely morning.
As we looked from the window across the plain we had traversed the
evening before, the scene was an enchanting one. Soft mists coloured
by the sunlight, and pierced here and there by dome and tower, hung
over the city, and billowy sunlit clouds wreathed themselves round the
distant mountains. Even our immediate surroundings, which appeared
so squalid the night before, became transformed under the brilliant
sunlight: the old courtyard looked quite picturesque with the bustle
of preparation for our journey; gaily-dressed washerwomen laden with
bundles of clean linen trotted past the open door, and we could watch
them and the line of pack-mules and Indian carriers winding down
the sides of the barranca on their way to the morning market in the
capital. The air was filled with the perfume of flowers, and the
atmosphere was soft and delicious.
[Illustration: A MIXCO WASHERWOMAN.]
To the native traveller there is not much difficulty in making an
early start, for he seems, as a rule, to confine his equipment for
the road to a rug rolled up and strapped on the back of his saddle,
a Turkish bath towel thrown over his shoulders, and such small
articles as he can stow away in his "arganas," or plaited grass
saddle-bags. Possibly he may be followed by a small boy on a second
mule, who carries his master's clothes in front of him wrapped up in
a petate or mat. But with us the case was very different, for what
with tents, tent-furniture, beds, bedding, photographic cameras and
other apparatus, a large store of provisions, a cooking-canteen, and
water-tins, as well as our own personal belongings, our baggage-train
was a long one, much time was occupied in getting under weigh, and our
progress was necessarily slow. We had found it impossible in the city
to engage Indian carriers by the month or even by the week, so we had
to depend on the village alcaldes to supply us with mozos to carry
loads from town to town.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
I soon learnt that the alcaldes never hurry themselves to find the
mozos, and that the mozos are never in a hurry to come; and when at
last they are all assembled, much time is lost in fussing over the
size, weight, and general make-up of the cargos. Even when the mules
were all saddled and loaded, and we were making a start, one of the
mozos was sure to find that the tent-poles were too long, or the
camera-legs inconvenient to adjust. This discovery was followed by a
demand for more pay, and we had to wait whilst Gorgonio smoothed the
ruffled feelings of the mozos to whose lots these awkward burdens had
fallen, with the promise of an extra medio apiece if each of them
travelled well. As the Indians speak little, if any, Spanish, and our
Ladinos, who spoke the Indian dialect, "la lengua" as they called it,
of the Alta Vera Paz, could not understand the speech of the Indians of
the Altos and the Lake region, we usually found it best to leave to the
Alcalde all arrangements with the Indians, and cheerfully ran the risk
of an overcharge in order to avoid delay and ensure the proper carriage
of cargos.
Our start from Mixco was in no wise different from what experience
afterwards showed me to be the rule, and it was rather late before we
were under weigh for Antigua; but as we had only twenty miles to travel
along one of the best high roads in the country, and were to find an
hotel at the end of our journey, the delay was not a matter of much
consequence.
The air was fresh and invigorating, and as we wound round the hills
along the edge of a great barranca we caught charming glimpses of the
capital, with its shining white churches lying in the plain beneath us,
and of distant mountains and valleys changing from sunlight to shadow
under the passing clouds. The roadside was edged with wild flowers,
among them large scarlet salvias, beautiful purple single dahlias,
growing to a great height, elder-trees in full bloom, and Wigandia with
its magnificent leaves and fine sprays of purple flowers, royal in
effect. Besides these were brilliant patches of small sunflowers, and
delicate little blossoms of many sorts and colours peeping out between
the moss and maidenhair ferns which clothed the rocks and turned the
green roadsides into charming rock-gardens.
About midday we arrived at the little hamlet of San Rafael, high up in
the hills, but even at an altitude where frost is by no means unknown
it was impossible to realize that we were in the midst of winter,
for in the well-kept garden of the inn standard roses, banksias,
heliotrope, and various other garden plants were blooming, as if it
were June and not January. Here we came up with the soldiers, infantry
and artillery, who had eaten up all the bread at Mixco, and who were
now resting and cooking their food by the roadside, whilst their
officers took possession of the hotel. It was rather disquieting to
have to follow in the wake of this hungry army, but the innkeeper
dispelled our fears and gave us an abundant and well-cooked breakfast.
Soon after leaving San Rafael, a turn in the road revealed the two
great volcanoes, Agua and Fuego, towering dark and mysterious above us,
and seeming to bar our way. Soft billowy white clouds hovered over and
around their summits, now hiding them from view, and now revealing the
sharp edges of a crater, then sinking lower and wreathing their slopes
in a clinging drapery of mist, sometimes silvery and glowing in the
sunlight, then fading to a cold chalky whiteness. Where the afternoon
sun touched the beautiful sloping sides of the mountains one could see
the great deep furrows ploughed by the rains of centuries, and here
and there a yellow patch of maize and the solitary hut of a mountain
Indian.
The road led us down through passes wilder than we had seen before,
with rugged hillsides covered with forest trees and a cheerful
stream bubbling along the bottom of the narrow gully. We passed long
mule-trains toiling over the hills on their way to the capital, and
then the silence of the valleys was broken and the rocks echoed with
the loud harsh voices of the arrieros calling to their beasts by
every name in the calendar, with a refrain of "Macho, Mula arré, anda
pues"--a useless expenditure of breath and energy, which never seems to
affect the pace of the mule-train in the slightest degree, but which is
an unfailing and annoying habit of every Spanish-American muleteer. The
prettiest party we met on the road was a company of young girls clad
in embroidered huipils and bright-coloured enaguas (their upper and
lower garments), each with a big flat basket on her head, and a bare
well-shaped brown arm raised to support it. They fluttered up the hill
towards us laughing and chattering, their well-poised erect figures
swaying with a fine freedom of motion. Surely no prettier sight was
ever seen, with its sylvan surroundings and the sunlight glistening
through the trees.
On nearing Antigua the valley opened out, and we passed some
coffee-plantations, the trees loaded with berries in various stages of
ripening, and the beautiful leaves shining in the sunlight. Alternating
with the rows of coffee-bushes were rows of plantains and bananas,
their straight unbending stems supporting a wealth of mellowing fruit
and their glorious crowns of leaves giving the grateful shade which
the young coffee-tree requires. The open road then merged into a
roughly-paved street bordered by walls covered with flowering creepers,
and overtopped here and there by flaming heads of poinsettia, which
here grows almost a tree in size. Just before entering the half-ruined
city we passed a group of women filling their great earthen "tinajas"
with water at a picturesque old fountain, and lingering in the sweet
evening light to gossip with their neighbours and stare at us as we
passed.
Gorgonio led us to our hotel through long streets paved with
cobble-stones, and between high walls, which, of old, enclosed
well-kept convent gardens, now in ruins and unkempt, but still sweet
with the scent of orange-blossom and other flowers. Sometimes through
a gateway one caught a glimpse of palm-trees and bananas, bowers of
yellow and white roses, peach-trees in full bloom, great bunches of
crimson hibiscus, and over all a tangle of yellow jasmine and bignonia.
I must own that a great longing came over me to rest here in this
dilapidated old town, with its balmy delicious climate and lovely
skies, its exquisite views and charming wildernesses of gardens, and
here, far from the noise and bustle of steamships and railways, to live
the life of Arcady!
CHAPTER IV.
ANTIGUA.
My dreams faded away for a time when we reached the Hotel Rojas, which
had been recommended to us as the best in Antigua. Probably it is the
best, but it certainly is very bad. The rooms are small and ill-kept,
and the dreadfully dirty maids seemed to consider their duty done when
they had swept the dust from our room into the corridor on which all
the bedrooms opened, and thrown the bath-water across the corridor into
the courtyard beyond.
The table was provided with an abundance of beef, poultry, fresh
eggs, vegetables, and fruits; but it was untidy beyond description,
and almost all the food was ruined in the cooking by a too free
use of greasy lard. However, it was evidently the style of cooking
most appreciated in Antigua, for numbers of townspeople as well as
travellers took their meals at the hotel, the "comedor" was seldom
deserted, and the dirty attendants were kept at work from before six
in the morning until after ten o'clock at night. Our tempers were not
improved by being obliged to eat with, or after, so many people, whose
methods of feeding were not the nicest. However, the Hotel Rojas, with
all its drawbacks, was the best we came across during our travels in
the Republic.
When once outside the house, the charm of the surroundings banished
all thoughts of discomfort from our minds. The climate seemed to be
absolutely perfect, and the brilliant blue sky, the bright sun, shaded
now and again by the fleecy clouds one associates with a trade wind,
the temperature never too hot or too cold, and the delicious freshness
in the air stirred by gentle breezes, all together produced in me a
feeling of exhilaration I never thought to experience in a tropical
country. It all sounds too good to be true, but it is no exaggerated
description of the climate as we found it. The situation of the city,
too, is beautiful. It stands over 5000 feet above the sea-level on the
north side of a plain surrounded by bold hills and towering volcanoes,
and there appears to the eye to be only one gap in this circle of
hills, where the slopes of Agua and Fuego overlap, and through this gap
the road passes down to the Pacific coast. A few miles distant along
this road are the remains of the Ciudad Vieja, once the capital of the
country, for the city of Santiago, as the capital of Guatemala has
always been named, has passed through many vicissitudes and changes of
location.
[Illustration: ANTIGUA AND THE VOLCAN DE AGUA.]
Early in the year 1524 Pedro de Alvarado entered the country from
Mexico, and after subduing the Quichés and other powerful Indian
tribes, led his conquering army of Spaniards and Mexican auxiliaries
to Patinamit or Iximché, the stronghold of the Cachiquels; and here,
on St. James's day, 25th July, 1524, the solemn ceremony of founding
a city and dedicating it to Santiago, the patron saint of Spain, took
place, and the first municipal officers were nominated.
On this first site, however, the city can hardly be said to have
had any real existence, for Alvarado and his captains were too much
occupied with expeditions against Indian tribes in distant parts of the
country to be able to give any attention to the building of a city, and
the Cachiquels themselves rose again and again in revolt.
In the year 1527 the Cabildo, or Municipality of Santiago, met in the
plain of Almolonga to decide on a permanent location for the city, and
chose a site on the edge of the plain at the foot of the south-west
slope of the Volcan de Agua. During the following year this new
Santiago (now the Ciudad Vieja) was declared to be the capital of the
province, and began rapidly to rise in importance.
Meanwhile the restless Alvarado had journeyed to Mexico and Spain,
and the government of the province was left to others. In 1530 he
returned to Guatemala with the full powers and title of Adelantado,
and again took the direction of affairs; but the government of an
already-conquered province did not satisfy his ambition, and with
his mind bent on new and greater exploits he built a fleet with the
intention of setting sail for the Spice Islands. From this project
he was turned by the news of the marvellous successes of Pizarro in
the south, and in 1534 he sailed on his ill-fated expedition to Peru.
Within a year he was back again in Guatemala, and then, after another
visit to Spain, he finally met his death on the 4th July, 1541, through
an accident, whilst endeavouring to quell a local revolt in Mexico.
When the news of his death reached Guatemala (at the end of August)
mourning was universal, and his widow Doña Beatriz de la Cueva was
beside herself with grief. At the meeting of the Cabildo, the unusual
step was taken of electing Doña Beatriz as governor in her late
husband's place, and the unfortunate lady signed her name in the
books of the Cabildo on Friday the 9th September, with the prophetic
additions of "la sin ventura," the hapless one. It had been an
unusually wet season, and from Thursday the 8th the rain fell without
ceasing, and the gale was violent until Saturday the 10th, when soon
after dark a flood of water and liquid mud, carrying with it huge
boulders and uprooted trees, rushed down the mountain side and
overwhelmed the town. The hapless one and her maidens were buried under
the ruins of the chapel where they had taken refuge, and thirty or
forty Spaniards and some hundreds of Indians shared a like fate.
The cause of this catastrophe is usually said to have been the bursting
of the side of a lake which had been formed in the crater of the
extinct Volcan de Agua; but an examination of the crater shows this
explanation to be improbable, as the break in the crater-wall is in an
opposite direction, and no water flowing from it could have reached the
town. Moreover, there is no evidence to show that the deeper portion of
the crater, which is still intact, has held water since the reported
outbreak. Indeed, an accumulation of water during the exceptionally
heavy rain, through some temporary obstruction in one of the deep
worn gullies which indent the beautiful slope of that great mountain,
and a subsequent landslip would probably account for the damage done
without the aid of either an eruption of water from the crater or the
supernatural appearances which are duly noted by the old chroniclers.
Again the Cabildo of the Ciudad de Santiago had to meet and decide on a
more suitable position for their city, and the choice fell on the site
of the present city of Antigua, on the other side of the plain and a
few miles distant from the base of the treacherous mountain. There the
town grew and flourished, and the half-ruined churches, convents, and
public buildings still attest its former magnificence.
In this volcanic region a year seldom or never passes without the
shocks of earthquake being felt, and eruptions are not of rare
occurrence, but in the beginning of the eighteenth century the great
peak of Fuego, which forms such a beautiful feature in the view from
the city, was more than usually active. Eruptions and earthquakes
followed in quick succession, and in the year 1717 the continual shocks
laid the city in ruins. However, the damage was repaired again, and the
city increased in prosperity; but from 1751 to 1773 earthquakes again
wrought terrible havoc, and in July of the last year the Cathedral was
shattered and every church and house in the city damaged or destroyed.
Then in 1774 the Cabildo finally moved its home to the present site
of the city of Guatemala. This last change was not altogether a
popular measure, and the Archbishop and the clergy strongly opposed
the removal; but the principal laymen were in its favour, partly
influenced, so says tradition, by the heavy liens which the numerous
ecclesiastical bodies held on their property in the old city. The
poorer people, when they had once recovered from their fright, were
content to stay until oppressive laws were enacted to compel them to
leave their old homes. Backed by official influence the new city rose
in dignity and wealth; but Antigua, as the old town is now called,
was never altogether deserted, and although now not more than half
alive, is increasing somewhat both in wealth and importance. Religious
services continue to be held in the one or two churches which have
escaped the wreck, but the greater number of churches and nearly all
the monastic buildings are roofless and crumbling into ruin. Others
which still afford some shelter are used as cartsheds or blacksmiths'
shops, and one has been converted into a large furniture factory.
[Illustration: ANTIGUA.]
The destruction which began by the convulsions of nature is being
completed by her slower processes. Trees are growing inside the
buildings, and smaller plants find foothold in every crack and cranny,
whilst into the surfaces of the rubble and adobe walls innumerable bees
bore holes in which to deposit their eggs and thus prepare the way for
further destruction from the heavy rains. The best place to see the
bees at work is on the sunny side of one of the high "tapias" or mud
walls which enclose the gardens and coffee fincas, where they may be
sometimes seen poising on their rapidly moving wings and darting in and
out of their holes in such numbers as to give the appearance of a mist
over the surface of the wall.
These walls, I am told, were of greater use formerly than they are
now, for it is only of late years that coffee has been cultivated on
this plain; in earlier times the preparation of cochineal was the
chief industry, and where coffee-trees are now growing there formerly
stood rows of nopal cactus on which the cochineal insect lived. This
white fluffy-looking creature, which exudes a drop of crimson fluid
when crushed, could not survive the wet season without protection,
so a framework of rough sticks, divided into many compartments like
a plate-rack, was arranged under shelter all along the garden walls,
and in each of these compartments one of the flat branches of the
nopal cactus was lodged before the rains began, bearing a number of
cochineal insects sufficient to repopulate the whole plant as soon as
the dry weather came round again. The value of this crop disappeared
with the introduction of aniline dyes and the successful cultivation
of cochineal in the Canary Islands, and the coffee-plant then took the
place of the cactus and has again brought some measure of prosperity
to the planters. But even now the situation is not altogether
satisfactory, for the trees on the plain have more than once been cut
down to the roots by frost, although, curiously enough, those planted
on the hillsides have escaped damage.
There is little to remind one of the modern world in Antigua, it is in
all respects a charming old-world place, with long narrow streets, low
white houses, charming patios, and a fine plaza. The view across the
plaza with its background of mountains is always attractive, and during
market-time on Saturday it is brilliant and picturesque.
We were fortunately in the town during the celebration of the "fiesta
de Reyes," which commemorates the visit of the three kings from the
East to the cradle at Bethlehem. We saw nothing of any function in the
churches, although such no doubt took place, but contented ourselves
by watching the streams of people in the streets and the great market
in the plaza, which was crowded with Indians and ladinos. The Indian
women were seated on the ground shaded by big square umbrellas made of
matting tilted at every angle, and their wares were heaped up in big
baskets or spread on mats around them.
Pottery, mats, fruits, and vegetables of wonderful variety and colour,
in fact everything that is made or grows in the land was offered for
sale. New arrivals continually added to the store of produce, and
heavily burdened Indians picked their way through the crowd until
they could find a clear space where to deposit their loads of black
charcoal and golden maize; whilst in the stalls at one end of the
plaza the ladinos offered for sale cutlery, saddlery, and dress
materials, both native and imported. To this festival all the Indians
in the neighbourhood come dressed in the costume peculiar to their
village or clan, and each village sends a deputation, headed by a very
solemn-looking alcalde, to offer prayers at some favourite shrine and
to pay a visit of ceremony to the Jefe Político, or Chief Magistrate.
The Alcaldes were dressed in white trousers and round jackets of coarse
coloured home-spun cloth, and they wore white or more often black straw
hats with black velvet bands adorned with small black spangles.
[Illustration: AN ALCALDE.]
The costumes of the different villages varied considerably. Those who
came from the slopes of Agua wore the smallest amount of clothing,
consisting only of a loose cotton shirt and drawers of black woollen
cloth reaching halfway down the thigh, whilst the men from the Lake
region were quite elaborately dressed, with the bands of their black
straw hats sparkling with spangles--always, I believe, a sign of wealth
and importance--and beneath their hats they wore red and white cotton
handkerchiefs wound round their heads. Their black or striped woollen
jackets were woven or embroidered down the front in pretty designs,
a striped cotton belt or sash was wound round the waist, and the
short black woollen trousers, which reached just below the knee, were
embroidered on the seams with coloured threads, and left open halfway
up the sides to show the white cotton drawers beneath. All, of course,
wore leather sandals.
[Illustration: THE PLAZA, ANTIGUA.]
The "huipils," or loose cotton blouses worn by the Indian women, were
much more richly embroidered than any we had seen at the Capital, and
with their bright-coloured "enaguas" make up an effective costume. This
enagua or skirt is usually a cotton cloth about a yard in width wrapped
round the body and reaching from the waist to below the knee, but its
simplicity has given way in some Indian villages to a more Europeanized
form of skirt pleated at the top.
The ladino women of the poorer class were dressed in full skirts of
printed cotton or coarse muslin, which just cleared the ground, aprons
woven in the country, with stripes of brilliant colour, white bodices
cut low in the neck and leaving their pretty brown arms bare, and most
of them carried a long striped shawl, also a native product, thrown
over the head or flung loosely round the shoulders. The ladino women
higher in the social scale add nothing to the picturesqueness of the
groups, for they affect trailing skirts, ill-cut bodices, or any other
bad imitations of the fashion of the day.
An Indian baby slung in a shawl over its mother's back is a
delightfully grotesque mite; but what charmed me most were the little
girls about eighteen inches high, just able to toddle by their mothers'
sides, who were miniature copies of their mothers in dress and
appearance. They seemed to be contented little things, and we never saw
a child roughly treated throughout our journey.
The more I saw of Antigua the greater the longing grew to settle there,
and to surround myself with a garden. The picturesque ruin of the
buildings and garden walls already garlanded with flowers and ferns
fascinated me, and in imagination I revelled in the glories of bower
and blossom which taste and care might achieve, and the thought of
dreaming away one's days in such a perfect climate surrounded by so
much loveliness was strangely enticing. The rides and walks immediately
around the city are delightful, no barrancas bar the way, and the two
great volcanoes with their ever-changing colour and fleecy mantles
of shifting cloud are a constant source of delight. Alas! we had but
little time to spare for sauntering rides and woodland rambles, for
with true northern energy we had set our hearts on making the ascent of
Agua, and sleeping a night in the crater.
CHAPTER V.
THE VOLCANOES.
[Illustration: AGUA FROM SANTA MARIA.]
On the afternoon of the 8th of January we started with all our men and
mules, carrying bed, tent, canteen, and provisions, for the Indian
village of Santa Maria, about three leagues distant on the slope of the
volcano.
Our road lay through the streets of the old town, past ruined churches
and half-neglected convent-gardens, then through an alameda with a
beautiful avenue of ficus trees whose branches met overhead, to a
picturesque old fountain at the southern outskirts of the town, where
the country people were resting and watering their beasts. Here we,
too, came to a halt, more to gratify the social instincts of our mules
than for any other reason.
After leaving the fountain we began the very gradual ascent of the
lower slope of the mountain, and at each turn in the road our eyes
were charmed by lovely glimpses over coffee fincas and gardens full of
flowers and flowering trees to the white walls and church towers of the
old town below us slightly veiled in a summer mist.
[Illustration: ANTIGUA. A RUINED CHURCH.]
We passed a village with a massive white church and stone-flagged
plaza, and then on again through Indian gardens of coffee-trees and
bananas and great spreading Jocote trees, bare of leaves, but laden
with the yellow and crimson fruit with which the Indian flavours his
favourite intoxicating chicha.
As we slowly rode into Santa Maria the shadows of evening were falling,
and out of the great stillness the sound of bells ringing the "oracion"
rose from the distant villages of the plain, bringing with it that
indescribably peaceful mood which penetrates the soul of the wanderer
in whatever clime, when the labour of the day is done and he hears
the call of the faithful to prayer. Passing through a miserably dirty
village street, we entered by a pretentious gate into the great bare
plaza. A huge ugly church faced us, and to the left stretched the
long low cabildo. The other two sides of the plaza were intended to
be closed in by high walls, and by the gateway through which we had
entered; but these were additions which the Indian mind clearly deemed
superfluous, for the gateway was without a gate, half the west wall had
fallen down, and the south wall had not been built. Outside this great
square the town was almost wholly composed of thatch-roofed native huts.
The life of the village centered round the fountain which stood in
the middle of the plaza. Here party after party of women with babies
slung on their backs or astride on their hips, and strings of children
running at their heels, came to fill their "tinajas" and carry home the
water for the night's consumption. The habit of carrying heavy burdens
on their heads gives them a good bearing and a free gait, which is the
only attraction they possess, for a dirtier or more hideously ugly
female population it would be difficult to find. There is, however,
this to be said for them, that they were sober and could attend to
their household duties, whilst the men almost without exception were
drunk with chicha; and my husband and Gorgonio, both of whom had been
here several times before, assured me that they had always found them
in the same condition.
The Alcalde at Antigua had kindly recommended us by letter to the
ladino "Secretario" of the village (the official appointed by the
government to keep the Indian Alcalde and his subordinates in the
straight path), who showed us every possible attention, placed the
Sala Municipal entirely at our disposal, and, most important of all,
promised us that Indian carriers should be ready to accompany us on the
morrow.
The Cabildo was really a sound good building, and the apartment
allotted to us was sumptuously furnished with two or three large
tables, a cupboard containing the Municipal papers, several chairs of
doubtful strength, and a strong box holding the public monies. We
considered ourselves vastly well accommodated, with plenty of room to
stretch out our beds, and a table upon which to eat the supper which
our men were preparing for us over a fire they had made in the plaza.
The only person who looked unhappy was the old Indian who had charge
of the public treasure; he glanced at us askance and every few minutes
would enter the room and walk up to the chest to see that it was all
right, until finally he spread his mat right across the doorway, so
that no one could enter, and lay down to sleep. We were glad to turn
in ourselves and to close the windows and doors, which shielded us
from the unpleasantly close proximity of a party of travelling Indian
merchants who had taken up their quarters for the night in the verandah.
It was in the early glimmer of dawn when we were awakened by the
movements of our neighbours, who shouldered their cacastes and set out
thus betimes on their journey. So, following their good example, we
folded up our beds and prepared for an early start, hoping to reach
the summit of Agua by noon. But, as usual, the cargadores who had been
summoned by the public crier the night before failed to appear--some
sent excuses, some arrived late, and others did not come at all, and
nearly all the precious cool hours of the morning had slipped away
before the Secretario had caught the truants, who were already half
drunk, and the burdens had been arranged to suit their tastes. The
tent-poles were vehemently protested against by the man selected to
carry them, and I must own that my sympathies were with him, for he was
a diminutive specimen of a race short in stature, and the tent-poles
were five feet long. I longed to be able to sketch our cargadores as
they shouldered their loads and trotted off up the mountain, each with
his head tied up in a dirty red handkerchief, his long knife or machete
in hand, and a packet of tortillas and a gourd full of chicha made fast
to his cargo.
It is a long gradual ascent of about 5000 feet to the summit. The path
has been well made and nowhere are the grades uncomfortably steep. The
day was lovely, in the open places a cool breeze fanned us, and in
the shelter of the woods no breeze was needed for the temperature was
perfect.
At first our path lay through scrubby woods of recent growth, and then
through cornfields and through peach-orchards with the trees in full
bloom, and higher still we rode through patches of potatoes planted
beneath the shade of the forest trees. Elder bushes full of powdery
white blossoms reminded us of home; on either side of the way the banks
were bordered by masses of flowers and ferns and charming green things
of various kinds. There were great natural plantations of sunflowers
and scarlet salvias, wild geraniums, fuchsias, and cranes' bills, and
other innumerable small and bright blossoms nestled away amongst the
ferns and foliage.
The many windings of the path brought us continually in sight of
charming bits of scenery. Sometimes the mass of Fuego loomed up in
front of us, framed by branches of trees and exhibiting the usual
display of varying cloud effects, then again the eye rested on the
glistening white houses of Antigua, and as we rose higher other and
more distant towns and villages came into view.
The path would have indeed been good but for the activity of the
"taltusas" or gophers (_Geomys hispidius_), who had so undermined it
as to make it positively dangerous. Into the numerous hidden pitfalls
horse and mules continually floundered with much discomfort and some
danger to the riders. Twice I saw our boy Caralampio pitched right
over his mule's head, the mule losing both his fore legs in a burrow,
but luckily both boy and mule escaped unhurt. My mule, with singular
cleverness and care, avoided every hole and suspicious-looking place,
whilst the horse, with equally exceptional stupidity, floundered into
them all. On one occasion, choosing for the performance the steepest
and narrowest place in the path, right on the edge of a precipice, he
managed, first to lose his fore legs in a burrow, and nearly to crush
his rider's leg against a projecting rock, then in struggling out to
lose both his hind legs in another burrow, and to finish up by falling
over backwards. My mule, who was following close behind, seeing horse
and rider rolling down the hill together, whipped suddenly round, and
started off at a more lively pace than I was accustomed to. Luckily
Gorgonio, ever on the alert, caught at her bridle as she passed him,
and no more damage was done beyond the breaking of the bit. My husband
was soon on his feet again unhurt, and so was the horse, and we were
all heartily thankful to have escaped what might so easily have been a
serious accident.
We next passed through a belt of large velvety-leaved trees
(_Cheirostemon platanoides_); when we were rather more than halfway to
the summit, deciduous trees and flowering shrubs came to an end, and
we found ourselves amongst rough grass and pine-trees in the region
of frost. Here, along the shady side of the path, one could see small
cave-like recesses cut in the hillside, which have a curious origin.
The sloping surface of the soil is saturated with moisture slowly
draining down the mountain-side, continually renewed by the clouds
and mist which are ever gathering round the summit; every night this
moisture is congealed into myriads of minute elongated crystals, which
are so closely mixed with the disintegrated surface of the soil, that
they almost escape notice. This mixture of earth and ice the Indians
scoop out of these shady nooks and make into packages weighing about
170 lbs. each, neatly wrapped up in the coarse mountain grass, and
one of these heavy packages an Indian will carry on his back for sale
in Antigua or Escuintla; but now the manufacture of artificial ice
is putting an end to his trade, and in another generation it will be
extinct. In order to collect a sufficient quantity of this ice the
Indians have to begin their work before sunrise, for although the sun
does not actually shine on these hidden beds of crystals, the warmth of
the day considerably diminishes the supply.
Our road zigzagged up the N.E. side of the mountain, and shortly after
entering this region of frost we were enveloped in a cloud of mist,
which shrouded us until the sun set. All the beauty went out of the
evening; the air grew cold and damp, and as we neared the top, the
altitude took effect on my lungs. Although I would have preferred to
trust to my own feet on the difficult and almost dangerous path, I was
wholly unable to do so, and had to sit my panting mule until we reached
the lip of the crater, where I was obliged to dismount and scramble
down on foot to the level ground at the bottom. With the exception of
the one break in the rim through which we had clambered, the rugged
and precipitous sides of the crater rose to a height of 300 feet all
around us, and it would be difficult to imagine a gloomier or more
inhospitable scene than this great dreary grass-grown bowl presented to
our eyes in the waning light.
The Indians soon heaped together a good supply of pine logs and
lighted large fires. The tent was hastily put up, and we worked hard
to make ourselves comfortable before dark. The task was, however, only
half-completed when the sun set, and the great black pall of night
covered us, bringing a darkness that could be felt, which the fires
seemed only to intensify. However, half an hour later the mist cleared
away, and one by one the stars came out, clear and sparkling in the
blue-black sky. Venus and a young crescent moon hung for a brief moment
very near together on the edge of the crater and then left the black
abyss colder and darker than before.
Hoping to divert my thoughts from this heavy darkness, which oppressed
me almost to the point of physical pain, I turned my attention to
the fire and my duties as cook. But here I met with an unexpected
difficulty, for owing to the altitude everything boiled at a
ridiculously low temperature, and the curried fowl I put on to cook
spluttered and frizzled long before it was half-heated through; and
although I put it back time after time, owing to the rapidity with
which it boiled on the underside and cooled down on the upperside, we
got no more than a comfortless and half-cold supper after all. Supper
over, there was nothing left to do but to go to bed, and wrapping
ourselves in all the rugs and coats we possessed, we tried to forget
the cold and general discomfort in sleep, but our efforts were in vain.
The temperature fell lower and lower, icy gusts of wind flew shuddering
past the tent, shaking the canvas and stretching every rope, leaving
an oppressive stillness behind almost more alarming than the blasts
themselves. At such moments one's nerves, already at full tension,
became unmanageable, and one's mind conjured up fantastical pictures
and forebodings of danger from the treacherous nature of the mountain
to whose mercies we had confided ourselves: a mountain which I knew
well enough, in the daytime, had not been in eruption within the memory
of man. But perhaps the most uncomfortable feeling of all was the
difficulty in breathing, and the unusual gasping sensation following
the least change of position.
The Indians' habit of early rising was on this occasion a source of joy
to me, and long before daylight the terrible freezing monotony of the
night was broken by the sound of voices and the heaping together of the
smouldering logs; it was a moment of joy when Gorgonio appeared with
hot coffee and bread.
We were anxious to lose none of the beauty of the sunrise, and as
soon as possible we began to climb the rough sides of the crater, a
task involving many pauses and great expenditure of breath; indeed
so painful was the effort to expand one's lungs, that at times one
felt inclined to give up all further exertion. Gradually, however,
the strain relaxed, and by the time we had reached the ridge we
breathed normally, inhaling refreshing draughts of the purest and most
invigorating air, and feeling fit for any further amount of scrambling.
Arduous as was the task of ascending to the rim of the crater it was
as nothing compared with the difficulty now before me of attempting
to describe the beauty of the scene on which we gazed. The world lay
still asleep, but just stirring to shake off the blue-grey robe of
night which had thrown its soft misty folds over lakes and valleys. A
magnificent panorama of mountain-peaks floated out of the mist, east
and west and north, whilst to the south a grey hazy plain stretched
away until it was lost in the mists of the ocean. Following the line
of the coast the great bulwark of volcanic cones stood shoulder to
shoulder, and in the far east we could just catch the faint red light
from the active crater of Izalco in Salvador reflected on the morning
sky. One by one the lofty peaks caught a pink glow from the coming
sun, and as the mists rolled away we could see the pretty lake of
Amatitlan nestled amongst the hills and the sleeping hamlets dotted
over the plains. Very near to us on the west towered the beautiful
volcano of Fuego, still clothed in the softest blue mist. As the sun
rose clear and bright we beheld a sight so interesting and beautiful
that it alone would have repaid us for the miseries of the night, for
at that moment a ghost-like shadowy dark blue mountain rose high above
all the others, and as we gazed wondering what this spectral visitor
might mean, we saw that it was the shadow of Agua itself projected
on the atmosphere, which moved as the sun rose higher and gradually
sank until it lay a clear-cut black triangle against the slopes of
Fuego. It was an entrancingly beautiful sight, and strange as it was
beautiful. As the sun rose higher in the heavens and warmed the air we
lay resting and basking in its light on soft beds of grass, marvelling
in careless fashion over the wonderful changes we had witnessed, the
contrast between the profoundly dark and tragic night and the laughing
merry day, and we rejoiced that we had come to see the varying moods of
nature at such an altitude.
Then we had a glorious scramble right round the edge of the crater, the
highest point of which, as measured by Dr. Sapper, is 12,140 feet above
sea-level; at last, regretfully tearing ourselves away from scenes of
so much loveliness, we plunged down again to where our tent stood in
the sunless crater in the middle of a grassy plain about one hundred
and fifty yards across. Here we found Gorgonio occupied in thawing the
coffee, which had frozen solid in the bottle since our early breakfast
time. We were soon _en route_ for Santa Maria, and I noticed a certain
readiness amongst the Indians as well as our own men to escape from the
crater, where we had passed so gloomy a night. Mindful of the holes
and pitfalls in the path, we preferred to risk nothing, and walk the
six miles to the village. On our way down we passed some of the Indian
ice-gatherers staggering under their heavy burdens. It was past noon
when we arrived at Santa Maria, and after a few hours' rest we mounted
our mules and rode on in the cool of the afternoon, and reached Antigua
before dark.
[Illustration: INDIANS FROM JOCOTENANGO, ON THE MESETA, VOLCAN DE
FUEGO. Jan. 1882.]
NOTE (by A. P. M.).--I had made two ascents of Agua previous to the
expedition just described by my wife. The first was in January 1881,
when I walked from Santa Maria to the crater and back in the day (for
the mule-path had not yet been made), arriving at the summit at about
10 o'clock; on the way up I had passed through a belt of cloud which
thickened and spread until the whole country seemed to be covered up
with it. The sun was shining in a brilliantly blue sky overhead, and
the top of the mountain stood out perfectly clear, like an island in a
silver sea. It was an exquisitely beautiful sight looking down on the
great mass of sunlit billows stretching to the horizon, but it was not
what I had come to see, so after waiting for four hours I packed up my
camera and compass and marched down again.
On New Year's day, 1882, I climbed up Agua again, and as it was
fortunately a clear day I took a round of angles and some photographs.
During the next few days I made the acquaintance of Dr. Otto Stoll, who
was then practicing medicine in Antigua, and collecting the valuable
notes on the Indian languages which he has since published, and, to my
great delight, I learnt that he wished to make the ascent of Fuego; so
we arranged to start the very next day for the village of Alotenango.
On the 7th January we left that village about 7 o'clock in the morning
with seven Mozos, carrying food, clothing, and my camp-bed, and rode
for an hour towards the mountains, when we dismounted and sent back
our mules. The first two hours' climb was not so very steep, but it
was tiring work walking over the loose mould and dry leaves under the
thick forest. At 10 A.M. we stopped an hour for breakfast. Dr. Stoll
was in very bad training, as he had been suffering from fever, and
it needed all his pluck to face the hill at all. Then we recommenced
our climb under shadow of the forest by a steep path cut through the
undergrowth. At the height of about 9500 feet we, for the first time
since starting, got a sight of the peak rising on the other side of
a deep ravine. The whole of the slope on which we looked was bare
of vegetation, and presented to the eye nothing but desolate slopes
of ashes and scoriæ broken higher up with patches of burnt rock; we
scrambled on through the thick undergrowth, often with loose earth
under foot, and by degrees the vegetation changed and we got amongst
the pine-trees. At about 11,200 feet we came to a spot where the
earth had been levelled for a few yards by the Indians, and there we
determined to pass the night. I put up my bed, and the Mozos arranged a
fence of pine-boughs to break the force of the wind, and collected wood
for a fire. As we were all snug by about half-past four, I scrambled up
a little higher to see what sort of view I could get of the Meseta and
cone for a photograph, and then returned and watched the reflection of
the sunset over the more distant peaks and against the perfect cone of
Agua. It was a most beautiful sight, but the cold which followed the
sunset soon took all our attention, and when I had turned into bed I
had on three jerseys, two flannel shirts, and a loose knitted waistcoat
under my cloth clothes, and my rug double all over; yet I felt the
cold intensely, and poor Stoll, who was even better wrapped up than I
was, was shivering, so we pulled down the waterproof sheet which we
had rigged overhead and put it over both of us; still I was frequently
awakened by the cold, and Stoll got, I fear, no sleep at all. The Mozos
rolled up in their ponchos, with their toes to the fire, seemed to
endure the cold much better than we did. We turned out of our shelter
at about half-past four in the morning, and felt all the better after
drinking hot coffee; we then sat for an hour watching a most beautiful
dawn and sunrise. At the opposite side of the valley rose the Volcano
of Agua, sloping on one side to the plain of Antigua, and on the other
in a long unbroken sweep to the sea, more than forty miles away. Peak
after peak stood out against the red light into the far distance, and
on the right the low coast-line and the sea showed up very clearly.
As soon as the sun was up we started for the summit. I stopped on the
way to get a photograph of the cone, which lay to the left of us as we
ascended; but the clouds came over just as I was ready, and I had to
give it up. A little over 12,000 feet we left the scraggy pine-trees
and arrived at the northern end of a cinder ridge, called the Meseta,
which is at the summit of the slope we had been climbing. To the north
of us, on the other side of a deep rift, rose the distant cone of
Acatenango, the highest of the three peaks of the mountain, covered
with sparsely scattered pine-trees almost to the top; to the south,
half a mile distant at the other end of the Meseta, rose the active
cone of Fuego.
[Illustration: THE FIRE PEAK AND MESETA.]
West from the Meseta was a most lovely view over a wooded valley,
broken by cultivation, and dotted with villages to the slopes of
Atitlan, the nearest to us of the long line of volcanoes which follows
the coast-line and sweep in long wooded stretches to the sea. On
the land side the slope of Atitlan dipped into the great lake which
sparkled below us in the sunlight. Beyond the lake ridge after ridge
rose abruptly in the distance. The wind came bitterly cold over us as
we stopped to look at the view, and every now and again the clouds
shut everything from our sight; the Mozos huddled together under tufts
of coarse grass, and, as we had been warned, refused to go any further.
So we set out along the cinder ridge of the Meseta alone; it was just
broad enough to walk along in safety, but a fall on the east side would
have sent one headlong down a precipice, or on the west side sliding
down steep cinder slopes, broken by smoking holes like half-formed
craters, into the black forest-covered gullies below.
[Illustration: PEAK OF ACATENANGO, FROM THE MESETA.]
In a very high wind it would be impassable; as it was I only lost first
one and then the other of my (double) Terai felt hats, whirled off
my head by the sudden gusts. At the end of this ridge we came to the
actual cone, more than 400 feet high, formed of small loose cinders
and scoriæ, as steep as the roof of a house. It was a terribly hard
pull up. With the help of a strong stick, and often by using my hands
and with many rests on the way, I at last reached some lava rocks
where there was good foothold. Stoll was so weak from his fever that
two or three times he told me that he must give up, but when he saw me
getting on in front of him he plucked up courage and came on again. I
had thought the ridge of rocks was round the crater itself, but after
scrambling up them I found that there was still 40 or 50 feet above
me of steep cinder slope, which luckily proved to be harder and gave
better foothold than what we had already passed. Up this I climbed,
and at the very top of the peak looked over into the crater on the
sea-side. It was a hole about a hundred feet deep, almost surrounded
by broken jagged and smoking rocks covered with sulphurous deposit and
falling away on the further side to greater depths which projecting
walls of rock hid from my view. I went back down to the ridge of rocks
I had passed and shouted encouragement to Stoll, who was pluckily
struggling on. Fortunately for me I suffered from none of the headache
and heart-beating which had troubled me on the top of Agua the week
before. Perhaps the most curious thing about the mountain is the fact
that it rises quite regularly and gradually to a sharp point, on which
the two of us could sit and get an uninterrupted view all round.
Once at the top Stoll was more venturesome than I, and induced me to
follow him round the smoking edge of the crater to a projecting rock,
a few yards to the left, but we did not greatly improve our view. The
fumes from the crater were not very pleasant, but luckily the wind was
in our favour. After a short rest on the summit we returned to the
Meseta, shooting down the cinder slope as if it were snow, somewhat to
the damage of our boots.
We got back to our camping-place about 11 o'clock, and after a good
breakfast, started for the descent, and reached Alotenango between 4
and 5 o'clock in the afternoon.
CHAPTER VI.
THE ROAD TO GODINES.
We left Antigua on the morning of the 12th January. Just as we were
ready to ride out of the Patio our landlord approached me, carrying in
his hand a hideous toy parrot, sitting in a swing, with staring red
eyes and scanty green feathers glued on its back. This he solemnly
presented to me with many bows and wishes for a "buen viaje." I felt
bound to show my appreciation by hanging the thing to my saddle,
sincerely hoping that it would soon be jolted off; but no such luck
attended me, and there the bird hung dangling against the mule as we
rode through the town. As soon as we were well out of sight I offered
my prize to a group of children playing by the roadside; but they all
fled away, and it was some time before I met a child who could be
tempted to rid me of the gift.
After riding a mile or two along a road bordered by cottages bosomed
in fruit trees we rose to a bleak tableland. It was one of the very
few days of unpleasant weather which we experienced during the whole
of our journey; a fierce wind raised clouds of dust and rustled
through the ugly dry "rastrojos," or stubbles of Indian corn, which
covered the plain. We passed through the little Indian town of
Zaragoza, chiefly noted for the manufacture of "aparejos," the native
pack-saddles. I have been told that the Indians here have such a
liking for dried alligator meat as a lenten fare that the vendors of
that highly-perfumed delicacy have to be locked up in the "cárcel" for
protection and sell the meat through the prison bars. The streets were
full of gaily-dressed people assembled for a fiesta, and dancing was
going on in a shed, to the monotonous sound of a marimba. We were not
tempted to loiter for long, and rode on again over the dull plain to
the ugly and uninteresting town of Chimaltenango, where we proposed to
spend the night. The hotel was dirty and the bedrooms so unpleasant
that we would have none of them, and sent Gorgonio to hunt for an empty
room in which we could put up our own beds. This he found in a "meson,"
or caravanserai, attached to the hotel, where there was a good-sized
room and a rough kitchen opening on a patio in which we could turn the
beasts loose for the night. A sprinkling with water, a good sweeping,
and a free use of Keating's powder, soon made the room habitable. The
supper at the hotel was, however, far above the average, and the only
thing to complain of was the poor forage supplied to the mules.
[Illustration]
The weather next morning was lovely, and we made an early start. A
ride of about five leagues first across the same high tableland, then
through the lovely valley of La Sierra, brought us to Patzun, a town
of some importance, well placed and rather picturesque. The day had
been so charming that we had been tempted to dawdle much on the way
in lazy enjoyment of the beauty of the woodland slopes and the views
of the volcanoes, so that it was about 4 o'clock when we rode up to
the inn. The accommodation offered to us was not attractive, for the
bedrooms were like cupboards, airless and dark, and we were about to
search in the town for an empty room, when the patrona, after much
hesitation, agreed to allow us the use of the "Sala" as a bedroom; so
leaving Gorgonio and the boys to clean the room out, and to try and
get rid of some of the too numerous fleas, we wandered off to see the
sights of the town. Our steps of course gravitated towards the Plaza,
which, however, was not in itself attractive; but the groups of Indian
wayfarers seated around fires, cooking their suppers or settling
themselves for the night, were exceedingly picturesque. The people here
are far better looking than those we had seen at Antigua and Santa
Maria, and they appear to belong to a finer and stronger race, with
faces less grotesque and costumes much more attractive.
The dress of the men is rather Eastern in effect, and consists of a
long loose sleeveless garment woven from the undyed wool of the black
sheep. It is open at the sides, is longer in the back than in front,
and is usually drawn in round the waist with a belt. Loose trousers
of the same material reach to the knee, and below them appear the
embroidered edges of the loose white cotton drawers.
The huipils of the women are woven in stripes and brightly coloured
with native dyes, and the home-made enagua of blue and white striped
cotton is fastened round the waist over the huipil by a beautifully
embroidered belt with hanging ends. Every woman carries over
her arm a small striped cotton shawl to throw over her bare neck and
arms in the cool of the evening, and both men and women wear coloured
handkerchiefs knotted round their heads. We made many efforts to buy
some of the good huipils, but without success, and the women quite
frightened Gorgonio by the vehemence of their indignation at being
asked to sell their garments. This is hardly to be wondered at, for we
learnt that their stock of clothes usually included only one huipil in
the wearing and one in the loom, and it must take a long time to work
the elaborate patterns in cross-stitch with which they are embroidered.
[Illustration: SPECIMENS OF NATIVE TEXTILES AND EMBROIDERY (No. 1)]
[Illustration: SPECIMENS OF NATIVE TEXTILES AND EMBROIDERY (No. 2)]
Whilst we were watching the groups in the Plaza our attention was
attracted by the sound of music, and three shabby-looking fat ladinos
came in sight, playing violin, trombone, and drum, and heralding a
procession of gaily-dressed Indians. Some of the men wearing long gowns
trimmed with red, with turbans wound round their heads, bore on their
shoulders a platform supporting the image of a Saint, which was being
carried round the town on its way to the church, there to be deposited
for the night in readiness for the fiesta on the morrow. Then followed
others who may have been priests or were perhaps only officials of
a "cofradia" or brotherhood, for their costumes were not orthodox
priestly garments, and then a number of women dressed in clean huipils
and enaguas, and wearing long white veils, with the part covering the
head thickly embroidered in white silk. Each woman carried a lighted
candle in her hand, wrapped round with a green canna-leaf to shade it
from the wind. We followed the procession through the streets to the
church, where the image was deposited, and the women (still candle in
hand, but each with the canna-leaf placed on the top of her shawl,
neatly folded by her side) knelt in a circle and sang a hymn before the
procession dispersed.
[Illustration]
We returned to find our room swept but hardly clean, and after a very
bad supper were not sorry to turn into our comfortable camp-beds.
[Illustration: A BARRANCA.]
Early next morning we went on our way to Godines, and soon began the
descent of a great barranca, where the path was so exceedingly steep
and bad that we were glad to dismount and scramble down on foot. It
was a beautiful walk, winding down through thick woods, but, alas!
nearly all the trees by the roadside, within reach, had had their
trunks burnt or scorched by camp-fires or been otherwise maltreated,
and many of them had fallen and lay rotting where they fell. Here and
there a general clearing, or "roza," which spares nothing, was in
progress, preparatory to planting corn, and it seems as though within
a few years all the fine timber will have disappeared from the lake
region unless some better mode of cultivation is introduced. At present
the Indians merely scratch the surface of the ground with a hoe, or, on
the level plains, with a primitive wooden plough, and they abandon a
plantation after a few crops have been taken off of it. In the Altos,
where the population is large, the cultivators have to return to their
fallows after a short interval, but wherever there is woodland near
at hand they attack it recklessly, sacrificing all the timber trees
without scruple. This system of shifting their cornfields has received
the sanction of immemorial usage; and although I am told that the
Government has repeatedly attempted to prohibit the wasteful "rozas,"
the local authorities are too indifferent or too partial to enforce its
commands; and the conservative Indians fail to see that whilst in olden
times the forest was protected by the enormous amount of labour which
had to be expended in felling a tree with a stone axe, nowadays, with
cheap machetes and American axes, the growth of ages disappears in a
few hours.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: A HIGH ROAD.]
We were three hours riding and walking through this beautiful green
barranca, including a halt for breakfast, beside a charmingly clear
stream, from which we gathered the freshest and crispest of watercress.
Then the path made great sweeping turns up the steep side of the
valley, revealing to us as we rose new and lovely views with Agua
and Fuego in the distance; and early in the afternoon we arrived at
Godines, where we were met by Mr. Audley Gosling, the son of the
British Minister, who had ridden from Guatemala to spend a few days
with us at the lake.
The village consists of a small cabildo and half-a-dozen Indian huts,
and stands about two thousand feet above the lake of Atitlan; but
as the rising ground to the west cuts off the view of the lake, it
did not suit us as a camping-ground, so after consultation with the
alcalde, we rode on in search of a more favoured spot by the roadside,
where he assured us there was a good supply of water. On turning the
hill the sight of the lake burst suddenly upon us, and, stopping by
a wayside cross around which the Indians had strewed sweet-smelling
pine-needles and floral offerings, we drank in the marvellous beauty of
the view, which later on we saw in so many changing moods and learned
to love so well. A further climb up the steep path brought us to a
small level patch of ground, where there was room enough to pitch our
tent beside a spring of water slowly oozing up into a natural basin
about two feet across.
The land fell away in front of us in steep slopes and precipices to the
edge of the lake between two and three thousand feet below, and the
view over this beautiful sheet of water, about twenty-two miles long
and twelve miles broad, with its background of grand volcanoes, was
one of surpassing loveliness. The conical peak of San Pedro, wooded
to its summit, rose opposite to us on the far side of the lake, and
to the left stood the double cones of Atitlan, the lower peak rounded
and forest covered, and the higher rising above the vegetation in a
perfect cinder cone. Almost all round the lake the hills rise steeply,
but here and there by the water's edge the Indians have found room
for their villages, and have planted their "milpas" wherever corn
will grow, often on hillsides as steep as the roof of a house. We
rather reluctantly turned our backs on this lovely scene, and gave
our attention to pitching the tents and sweeping and clearing the
ground round the camp. The tiny pool was half full of dead leaves,
rubbish, and mud, and had to be thoroughly cleaned out, when it soon
filled again with an abundance of good clear water. Then the site for
the kitchen was chosen, tables were unfolded, the canteen opened,
and before long a kettle of soup was boiling merrily, and we enjoyed
a good supper sitting out in the clear moonlight. Mr. Gosling slept
in the small tent on the other side of the roadway, and the men made
themselves quite comfortable behind a wall of pack-saddles and boxes,
a covering of waterproof sheets, and a good supply of blankets: for at
nearly eight thousand feet above the sea the nights are cold and the
mornings frosty.
Next day we set to work to build a rough roof over the kitchen as
a shade from the midday sun, to put up tables and shelves made of
straight sticks bound together, and generally to make ourselves
comfortable for a week's stay; and never have I enjoyed a week more
thoroughly.
[Illustration: LAKE AND VOLCANO OF ATITLAN.]
CHAPTER VII.
THE LAKE OF ATITLAN.
Our tent was pitched so close to the precipice that even from my bed
I had a grand view over the lake, and could watch the black masses
of the volcanoes looming clear cut and solemn in the moonlight, or
changing from black to grey in the early dawn; then a rosy flush would
touch the peak of Atitlan and the light creep down its side, revealing
for a brief half-hour every detail of cinder ridge and chasm on its
scarred and wounded slopes, until with a sudden burst of glory the
sun rose above the eastern hills to strike the mirror-like surface of
the lake and flood the world with warmth and dazzling light. Every
peak and mountain-ridge now stood out clear and sharp against the
morning sky, and only in the shadow of the hills would a fleecy mist
hang over the surface of the lake far beneath us; then, almost before
the sun had power to drink up these lees of the night, from the deep
gap between the hills to the south a finger of white cloud, borne up
from the seaward slope, would creep round the peak of Atitlan only to
be dissipated in the cooler air; but finger followed finger, and the
mysterious hand never lost its grasp until, about noon, great billowy
clouds rolled up through the gap and the outpost was fairly captured,
although the crater itself often stood out clear above the cloudy
belt. It was not, however, until the sun began to lose its power that
the real attack commenced, and the second column deployed through
the gap on the southern flank of San Pedro, and then from 5 o'clock
until dark there followed a scene which no pen and no brush could
adequately portray. The clouds seemed to be bewitched: they came down
on us in alternate black and sunlit masses, terrible in their majesty;
then rolled aside to show us all the beauty of a sunset sky, tints of
violet that shaded into pink, and pink that melted into the clearest
blue, whilst far away beyond the mountains seaward rolled vast billowy
masses, first red and yellow, and then pink, fading to the softest
green. Again and again would the clouds roll down upon us, the mist
at times so thick that we could not see beyond a hundred yards; then
just as quickly it would roll away and reveal a completely new phase
of this ever-shifting scene of beauty. It is a poor simile, but I can
compare it to nothing but the falling and rising gauzes of a Christmas
transformation scene, with a wealth of colour and effect that Covent
Garden may despair of ever attaining. As the sun sank behind San
Pedro, all turned again to dark and angry purple, with contrasts and
reflections like the sheen of a shot silk. Slowly the mists melted away
with the fading daylight, Venus hung for a while like a splendid jewel
in the air, and the mountains turned again to shadowy masses outlined
against a crystal sky.
The saucy blue jays had ceased to chatter before the sun went down; but
we were not left in silence, for as the moon, then at its full, rose
above the eastern hills the whip-poor-will began its plaintive cry,
the crickets chirped, bats swooped down on us, fireflies hovered among
the trees, and dozens of frogs emerging from their hiding-places took
possession of our pool with loud croaks of satisfaction.
Our days were spent in rides and rambles in the neighbourhood; but we
always tried to get home early, so as to finish our dinner comfortably
and take our seats in good time for a view of the never-failing cloud
display. The air was fresh and exhilarating, although the heat at noon
was that of an August day at home; but as evening came on we were
always glad of extra wraps, and at night we slept under our heaviest
blankets.
All day long travellers would pass along the road, which ran within a
few feet of our tent. Sometimes it would be a party of Indian traders
or carriers, their cacastes heavily laden with earthen cooking-pots or
other merchandise, or carrying on their backs bulky bundles of rugs
or mats. A mozo laden with a freight of "Tinajas" (as the large-sized
water-jars are called) is indeed a curious sight, for the tinajas are
not heavy, and he manages to carry an extraordinary number of them
skilfully tied on to the outside of his cacaste, so that a back view
shows only a mountain of crockery supported by two small mahogany
coloured legs, and suggests a sort of human caddis-worm. Then a party
of Ladinos would come by on mule-back, the women, who were almost
always smoking cigarettes, sitting on the offside of their mules and
wearing long flowing riding-skirts and men's straw hats tied under
the chin with a pocket-handkerchief, the men as often as not dressed
in dilapidated uniforms with the inevitable bath-towel thrown over
the shoulders. Often they would call out to me to know what I could
give them for breakfast, or what we had to sell, for it never entered
their heads that we were camping-out for amusement, and our answers
were received with visible want of faith. Once a party of men passed
by carrying on their backs, or slung on poles between them, the whole
paraphernalia of a village fiesta--images, wooden trestles, platforms,
and arches studded with tin candle-sockets and adorned with tawdry
decorations and fringed edges of coloured paper which fluttered in the
wind.
The Indians would put down their loads and stop to rest under the shade
of the trees and ask permission to fill their water-jars from the
little pool as civilly as though we were its lawful possessors. Then
they would light their fires by the roadside to heat their coffee and
toast tortillas in the ashes. Sometimes they would pass the night
close by our camp, smoking and chatting for awhile after the evening
meal, and then roll themselves in their blankets to enjoy a well-earned
sleep.
[Illustration: NOONDAY REST.]
[Illustration: SUNSET, THE LAKE OF ATITLAN.]
We made many attempts to photograph the picturesque groups, but seldom
with much success, as the sitters were so restless and shy under the
ordeal that they would hide their faces or move away as soon as the
camera was in position, and they could only be captured by a chance
snapshot. But here, as everywhere, there were exceptions to a rule,
for two of our Indian visitors were so far advanced in civilization
that as soon as they caught sight of the camera they promptly demanded
a "medio" apiece for the privilege of taking their portraits, and
insisted on payment in advance; but they seemed almost as quickly to
repent of their bargain, and could only be induced to sit uneasily for
a moment, and hastily made off before a second plate could be exposed.
The Indians' objection to photography is due to the fear of "brujeria,"
or witchcraft, in which they are firm believers; and after all a medio
was small pay for the risk they ran of being looked at naked through
their clothes or having their insides filled full of snakes.
Sometimes we were awakened before dawn by the distant sound of a boy's
shrill voice chanting a few bars of a melody, which was caught up by
a chorus of men's voices a fifth lower, and repeated again and again
as the sound rapidly approached our tent, and then died away in the
distance. It was the morning hymn of a company of Indian pilgrims
returning from the shrine of the Black Christ at Esquipulas, which
lies distant many days' journey towards the frontier of Honduras. The
great festival of the year is held in January, and then for a week
or more the usually half-deserted little town of Esquipulas swarms
with pilgrims. In old days its fame was so great that it attracted
worshippers all the way from Mexico and Panama, and the fair which
was carried on at the same time was the great commercial event of
the year. Thither the English merchants from Belize brought their
wares and carried on what was practically the whole of the foreign
business of Honduras, Salvador, and Guatemala, taking in exchange the
native-grown indigo. For some years the working of the neighbouring
mines of Alotepeque helped to keep up business, but now steamships and
railways have so changed the course of trade that the fair is of not
more than local importance. The custom-loving Indian will, however,
still cheerfully make a month's journey, cacaste on back, to pay his
adoration to the Black Christ, and the huge church is still kept in
good repair, although not many years ago it was despoiled of its rich
treasure of gold and silver votive offerings by a troop of Guatemala
cavalry which had been sent to defend the frontier against an attack
from Salvador, and repaid itself for its patriotic services by looting
one of its own churches on the way home. The Ladino troopers rode back
into the capital with handkerchiefs full of little golden arms and legs
tied to their saddle-bows, and freely distributed the spoil amongst
their friends and admirers, who thronged the streets to give them a
welcome home.
[Illustration: ESQUIPULAS.]
During this and the following week we met many companies of pilgrims
returning from Esquipulas to their villages laden with the goods
they had purchased, and with a bundle of rockets tied to each man's
cacaste, to be fired off in celebration of his safe return home. The
pilgrims will often stop to deck the roadside crosses with flowers,
branches, and green leaves, and to strew the ground around them with
fresh pine-needles, and every man will pluck a green branch from a
tree and strike his leg sharply with it, so as to ensure good health
on his journey. Sometimes the hill Indians when journeying down to the
plains will tie a small bundle of sticks together and deposit them by
the roadside, if possible near a hot spring, as a charm against fevers;
and every man on leaving his home will place a marked stone in a
certain position, or put one stone above another, as a test of his
wife's fidelity during his absence. If the stones are untouched on his
return he is satisfied; but many a poor woman must get an undeserved
thrashing, as the mischievous Ladino boys delight in moving the stones
when they can find them, thus ensuring a family squabble.
[Illustration: VOLCANO OF ATITLAN.]
On Sunday, the 21st January, to my regret, we broke up our camp. Mr.
Gosling said good-bye to us the night before, and started on his return
journey to Guatemala before daylight; and we afterwards learned that he
rode and walked the whole sixty miles of rough road in a day, arriving
at the legation about 10 o'clock in the evening, neither he nor his
mule any the worse for the long journey.
We sent on our pack-mules and luggage to the town of Panajachél to
await our arrival, and set out ourselves to visit the small village
of San Antonio, which lay three thousand feet below us on the border
of the lake. The shortest way to the village is by a precipitous path
down the cliff, used daily by the Indians, but altogether impossible
for mules; so we packed what we needed for the night on the backs of
some Indians and sent them off by this route. We rode back ourselves
through Godines, and then took the road which leads through the
great gap towards the sea-coast. It was a beautiful morning, and we
thoroughly enjoyed our ride through pine woods and past fields of maize
and flowering aniseed. The clouds had not yet rolled up, and we had a
splendid view through the gap to the rich lowlands of the Costa Grande.
About six miles from Godines we left the high road and turning sharply
to the right came in full view of the lake again. A solitary black
storm-cloud had gathered over the surface of the water and threatened
us with a drenching should it come over our way; but luckily we escaped
it, and its changing tints only added to the beauty of the scene.
The narrow path zigzagged down the hill, and was so steep that we
preferred to dismount and lead our mules until we reached the water's
edge; then a ride of a few miles over a path scraped out of the
hillside brought us in view of the little Indian town.
The walls of the queer-looking square houses are built of rough stones
held together by a framework of undressed sticks, and a grass thatch
covers the roof. Each house stands within a small enclosure formed by a
rough stone wall or a reed-fence, and some attempt has here and there
been made to plant these enclosures with flowers; but usually the hard
surface of the earth is swept bare. There are only two or three trees
in all the village, and as none of the Indian houses are plastered or
white-washed, the prevailing colour is a dusky brown of earth, rock,
and thatch, which renders all the more striking the striped huipils
of the women and the red-and-white handkerchiefs bound round the men's
heads.
[Illustration: SAN ANTONIO.]
We climbed up through the steep narrow lanes to the Cabildo, where we
proposed to pass the night, and found the verandah in front of the
building closely packed with Indian travellers and their cargoes. There
were only two rooms--one used as a prison, which was overcrowded with
delinquents, who stretched out their hands through the heavy barred
door and begged for alms; the other used as a "Sala Municipal," which
was both small and dirty: however, we were ready to make the best of it
as a lodging, when we were informed that, as the Secretario was away,
no one could give us leave to make use of it. Somewhat discouraged, we
wandered on, in search of a resting-place, past the church, roofless
from the shocks of many earthquakes, and arrived at the foot of a
high flight of steps, crooked and picturesque, at the top of which
stood the school-house. Here was our chance: we hunted up the Ladino
schoolmaster; Gorgonio and he were soon fast friends, and the room used
as a girl's school was placed entirely at our disposal. The room had
a mud floor and was furnished with a blackboard--very useful to hang
clothes on,--a table, and a few wooden benches. There were no windows,
and the door had to be kept wide open to admit light and air, greatly
to the delight of a few urchins who lingered about the steps and
furtively watched our movements.
[Illustration: SAN ANTONIO.]
The Ladino inhabitants of San Antonio are the schoolmaster, his wife
and children, the Secretario, and two women who keep the estanco or
grog-shop; otherwise the town is purely Indian and governed by an
Indian municipality. Until quite lately it was difficult of access by
land and almost isolated, but since the track along the lake-shore has
been improved it is found to be a convenient short cut from the Altos
to the coffee-fincas on the Costa Grande, and the sight of strangers
is no longer a novelty. Nevertheless we found the women and girls so
extremely shy that they ran away from us and from the camera, as though
the evil eye were on them.
After arranging our camp-beds and ordering our supper from the estanco
we strolled about the town to see the sights. Whilst we were enjoying
the lovely view and watching the changing lights upon the water, a
procession of Indians clad in their black sack-like garments came
towards us. It was headed by the alcalde with his staff of office,
who was followed by his alguacils and mayores, each carrying a long
white stick. They stopped at house after house, apparently giving
some directions to the inmates, and as they passed us the alcalde
civilly wished us "buenas noches"; then a little further on they
halted and an alguacil clambering up a wall stood on the top and in a
loud clear voice, which seemed to travel up the hillsides, called out
the instructions for the work to be put in hand on the morrow, and
repeated the Municipal orders for the week. After a moment's pause
he was answered by a voice far away in the distance, then by another
in an opposite quarter of the town, and when all was quiet again the
Indians ceremoniously bade one another good night and the procession
dispersed. This, we learnt, is the usual custom on a Sunday night, and
in the stillness of the fading daylight it was a curious and impressive
ceremony.
Next morning we were awakened by the arrival of the school-boys, whose
class-room was next door: each little fellow trotted up the steps
with a little bundle of wood faggots on his back, which he deposited
outside the door, and then took his seat on the wooden bench within.
They were the quaintest little creatures imaginable, dressed just like
their fathers; but their strange black garments were in indifferent
repair, and the red-and-white handkerchiefs round their heads looked
as though they might have been handed down from father to son. There
they sat on the bench as still as mice, with their thin black legs
dangling down, each one with a yellow-covered dog-eared school-book in
his hand, in which he buried his face when overcome with bashfulness
at the sight of us. About 7 o'clock the schoolmaster came in to call
the roll, and as each boy answered his name he shouldered his bundle
of faggots and demurely trotted off with it to the schoolmaster's
house and deposited it in the kitchen. Thus having done their duty
and given the schoolmaster his week's supply of firewood, they seated
themselves on the bench again, buried their faces in the yellow-covered
books, and never stirred for three whole hours! during which time the
schoolmaster sat outside the school-room and chatted to Gorgonio and
Santos. Perhaps after all the master's absence or presence did not make
much difference, for he owned to us that he could not speak the Indian
language, and his pupils knew no Spanish.
As we were in occupation of their school-room the girls were given a
holiday, and we saw them only at a distance, for they always took to
their heels on our approach.
There is a school-house in every village, and the Government really
seems to do its best to give the Indians some education, but the
difficulties are great. Sometimes it is the Indian parents who refuse
to send their children to school, fearing that if they learn to read
and write and speak Spanish they will be employed by the Cabildo at
a starvation salary and never find time to plant their milpas; at
other times it is the difficulty of finding competent and trustworthy
teachers. Indeed, I heard of one case in which it was not until the
schoolmaster had been some years in office that the Jefe Político
discovered that the man could neither read nor write. The Jefe was for
instant dismissal, but the Indian parents begged that the schoolmaster
might be allowed to retain his office, because he kept the children so
quiet all the morning, and their mothers could make the tortillas in
peace.
[Illustration: BOYS IN SCHOOL.]
The women of the town are very clean and tidy in their dress, and take
especial care of their hair: we saw numbers of them almost standing on
their heads in the shallow edge of the lake in their efforts to give
their hair a good washing, after which they dried and combed and oiled
it and braided it into long tails. It took much coaxing to induce the
group of mayores and alguacils on the next page to stand to the camera;
however, they at last consented. But when we tried to take a separate
portrait of the young man who is standing lowest on the step, really a
good-looking and graceful fellow, he blushed and wriggled and hid his
face like a shy school-girl, so, after spoiling a plate or two, the
attempt had to be abandoned.
[Illustration: AN INDIAN LOOM.]
All the garments worn both by men and women are of native manufacture,
and some, if not all, of them are woven in the town. The looms on
which the handkerchiefs and shawls are made are primitive in their
simplicity, and are just the same as those pictured in the aboriginal
Mexican manuscripts. My husband managed, after much discussion and
bargaining, to buy one with the still unfinished fabric on it, which is
now in the Museum of Archæology at Cambridge. A sketch of it is given
on this page as well as a copy of the drawing from the ancient Mexican
Codex. One end of the loom is usually tied to the post of the house,
and the other end steadied by a band round the woman's body. Custom
demands that the hollow reed or stick to which the warp is attached
should contain several round seeds or beads, which rattle up and down
as it is moved for the shuttle to pass. Whatever the origin of the
custom may be, one result of it is that you can always tell by the
noise when the women are busy at work.
[Illustration: A WOMAN WEAVING. (From the Codex Mendoza.)]
About noon we left the village and followed the rough path along the
border of the lake, sometimes scrambling over the steep headlands, at
others passing along the margin of the little sheltered bays,
where numberless coots and some few duck swam out at our approach from
amongst the scanty reeds and sought refuge in deep water. We passed on
our way the little village of Santa Catarina; but, to judge from the
canoes we saw drawn up on beach, water must be an accident in the life
of these Indians and not a natural element as it is with the red men of
the North.
[Illustration: INDIANS AT SAN ANTONIO.]
[Illustration: WATER CARRIERS, SAN ANTONIO.]
The canoes are roughly hollowed logs without shape or beauty, the
sides raised in height by planks fastened to the gunwale. The sterns
are cut off square, two solid projections from the original log being
left as handles by which the amorphous craft may be pushed off the
shore. There are two sorts of fish found in the lake--one a "mojarra"
(_Heros nigrofasciatus_) about the size of a sardine, and the other the
"triponcito" or "pepesca" (_Fundulus pachycephalus_), which is peculiar
to this lake, and does not exceed two and a half inches in length. I
was told that an attempt has been made to introduce a larger fish, but
so far it has not met with any success. The conditions may be adverse
to fish life, for the water is very cold and at only a short distance
from the shore it is said to be profoundly deep.
A ride of three leagues brought us to Panajachél, a little town
standing on a rich alluvial plain formed by a swift stream which issues
from a narrow cleft in the hills, and has spread out the earth in the
shape of an open fan until it forms a mile of frontage to the lake.
The stream is now somewhat diverted from its bed and is led away
through many channels to irrigate the vegetable gardens, orchards, and
coffee-plantations which cover the delta. But even with so many outlets
there are times during the wet season when the sudden increase in the
volume of water threatens the safety of the town, and we were told that
not many years ago an inundation caused great damage, washing away
some of the houses, and cutting off the townspeople from all outside
communication. There is nothing especially interesting in the town
itself; but its surroundings of lake and mountain, garden and orchard,
are charming, and the bright green of the trees seemed all the more
brilliant in contrast with the bareness of the surrounding hills, on
which so much of the timber has been ruthlessly destroyed.
As we found the Inn to be sufficiently comfortable we stayed for
several days to develop the photographs taken near Godines, and to
enjoy the fresh greenness of this sheltered nook, where the oranges
were in blossom and in fruit, the coffee was in full bearing, and the
branches of the jocote trees, although bare of leaves, were weighed
down with fruit which glistened red and yellow in the sunlight.
Outside the orchards beautiful flowering creepers and long streamers
of what looked to me like a feathery grey moss, called by the natives
"barbas de viejo"--which, I am told, is a "bromelia" and not a moss at
all,--almost smothered the forest trees, which here and there reared
their heads from the thickets; whilst orchids of many colours, and
other epiphytes with clusters of green-red leaves and splendid red and
purple flower-spikes, clung to every available branch.
The aguacates, or alligator-pears, grown here are celebrated throughout
the Republic, but the creamy delicacy of the flesh is beyond my powers
of description; and I can only say that I felt myself to be at last in
the land of the Swiss family Robinson, when I found a most delicious
salad with a perfect mayonnaise dressing slightly flavoured with
pistachio-nut hanging ready mixed in the form of a pear-shaped fruit
from the branches of a fair-sized tree. However, to the Indian the
chief glory of Panajachél is not its aguacates, but its onions, which
grow in luxuriant profusion, and which he carries in his cacaste to all
the markets of the Altos.
I was constantly regretting my inability to speak with the Indians
and learn more of their daily life. To an onlooker that of the women
seems hopelessly monotonous and devoid of any recreation or pleasure,
and one could only silently sympathize with them in the patient labour
of grinding maize for tortillas, and the never-ending task of washing
clothes at the fountain or at the river's edge.
[Illustration: PANAJACHÉL AND THE LAKE OF ATITLAN.]
Whilst we were at Panajachél a matter of especial interest presented
itself to us in the curious ceremonies of the Indian pilgrims returning
from Esquipulas. Our room looked out on the Plaza, which in the morning
always afforded a few picturesque groups of market-women, but was
almost deserted by noon; then, as evening approached, little companies
of pilgrims, bending under their burdens, filed into the town, and as
night fell the Plaza was lit up by numerous small fires, around which
the pilgrims gathered for their supper. This important meal ended,
they began their religious functions by laying down petates (mats) in
front of the cacastes, which had already been arranged in a line across
the Plaza. Then each man produced from his cargo a small wooden box,
usually glazed on one side, containing the image of a saint, and these
were arranged in a row against the cacastes, between lighted candles,
the place of honour in the middle being assigned to a box containing
a figure of the Black Christ. When these arrangements were completed,
the Indians, who were dressed in long black woollen garments, with long
white veils fastened to their black straw hats, prostrated themselves
in turn before each shrine, and crawled along from one to the other
on hands and knees, laying the forehead in the dust, offering up
their prayers to each saint and kissing the box which contained its
image. These acts of devotion were several times repeated, and then
grouping themselves on their knees before the shrine of the Black
Christ, and led by one of their number, who seemed to have some sort of
authority over them, they all chanted the quaint hymn we had so often
heard in the early watches of the morning. After singing for nearly
half an hour they withdrew to their fires, rolled themselves in their
blankets, and were soon fast asleep.
Luckily for us on one occasion this ceremony took place just before
dusk, and a hastily snatched-up camera secured the picture given below.
During the whole of our journey I saw no Indian ceremony more
picturesquely interesting than this which I have attempted to describe,
and none which more strongly impressed me with the feeling, which I
cannot attempt to explain, that I was witnessing a Pagan and not a
Christian ceremony. It has often been a matter of doubt, even to the
priests who have lived among them for many years, whether the Indians
really understand Christian doctrine; but they are ceremonious by
nature, and formality is congenial to them, so that the ritual and
functions of the Church of Rome (however little they may understand
their actual meaning) have now become as much a part of their daily
life as the carrying of burdens or cultivation of milpas.
[Illustration: PILGRIMS AT EVENING PRAYER.]
CHAPTER VIII.
THE QUICHÉS AND CACHIQUELS. (BY A. P. M.)
[Illustration: ON THE STEPS OF THE CABILDO, ATITLAN.]
It will be as well now to give a slight sketch of the history of
the Indians whose country we were passing through. At the time of
Alvarado's entry into Guatemala in February 1524, the tableland round
about the modern towns of Santa Cruz del Quiché and Quezaltenango was
occupied by the Quiché Indians, who had their capital at Utatlan, close
to Santa Cruz. The Cachiquels held the land to the east of the Quichés,
and their capital, Patinamit or Iximché, stood near the modern town of
Tecpan Guatemala, and is called by Alvarado the "City of Guatemala."
The Tzutuhils, a less powerful tribe, appear to have held the land
on the east and south shores of the lake of Atitlan, and probably
had their headquarters on the site of the present Indian village of
Atitlan. All three tribes spoke languages of (what is now known as) the
Maya-Quiché stock, a family of languages which extends over the whole
peninsula of Yucatan, through the greater part of Guatemala, and parts
of Tabasco and Chiapas. The confederation of these three tribes or
nations--Quichés, Cachiquels, and Tzutuhils--is sometimes spoken of as
the Quiché-Cachiquel Empire; but whether it was ever a united empire,
as we understand the term, is somewhat doubtful, while it is quite
certain that at the time of the Spanish invasion all three tribes were
at enmity with one another.
It is sometimes assumed that these people had attained a high degree of
civilization, and were especially advanced in the art of building; but
this assumption I believe to be mainly due to the grossly exaggerated
descriptions of their towns given by the early Spanish historians, and
unfortunately there are no other written records to which we can refer
on these points.
Of the three aboriginal MSS. still extant, not one (so far as I know)
has been attributed to the Quichés or Cachiquels, and no carved
inscriptions have been found amongst the ruins of their towns; but a
few glyphs painted on pottery which is ascribed to them would lead
one to suppose that they made use of the Maya script. Of late years
two documents have been discovered which have gained for these people
some literary reputation--the 'Popul-Vuh,' or sacred book of the
Quichés, and the 'Chronicles' of the Cachiquels: the fact that they are
written in Roman characters shows that the transcription at least is
of recent date; but whilst they are of undoubted interest with regard
to mythology and traditional history, they afford no guide to the then
prevailing state of civilization.
After making due allowance for the inaccuracies of the available
descriptions, it may undoubtedly be conceded that at the time of
the Spanish conquest the Quichés and Cachiquels lived in organized
communities and that they were fairly proficient in the arts, without
attempting to exalt their culture to the same level with that of the
builders of Palenque or Copan, or the great towns in Yucatan. For
their history since the Spanish invasion we must turn to the earliest
accounts of them left to us by their conquerors.
Alvarado left Mexico in December 1523, with an army of 120 horsemen,
and 40 led horses, 300 infantry, of whom 130 were crossbowmen and
arquebusiers, four pieces of artillery, and some thousands of picked
Indian warriors. He passed over the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, and marched
on through the province of Soconusco, fighting a battle near Tonalá,
and on the 11th April he addressed a despatch from Utatlan to his great
Captain Hernando Cortés, who was then in Mexico, as follows:--
"Señor, from Soconusco I wrote to your Highness all that had happened
to me as far as that place, and said something of what I looked to
find ahead of me. And after I had sent my messengers to this country
to inform the people that I was coming to conquer and pacify certain
provinces which were unwilling to place themselves under the dominion
of his Majesty, I begged help and assistance from them as vassals (for
as such they had offered themselves to your Highness begging favour
and aid for their country) and said that if they gave their assistance
in the way they ought to do as good and loyal vassals of his Majesty,
they should be well treated by me and the Spaniards in my company; and
if not, I would make war on them as against traitors rebelling and
fighting against the dominion of our Lord the Emperor, and as such they
would be treated, and in addition to this, that we would make slaves of
all taken alive in the war. And having done all this and despatched the
messengers, who were men of their own people, I reviewed all my people,
both foot and horse, and the next day, on the morning of Saturday, I
set out in search of their land, and after marching for three days
through uninhabited forest, we pitched our camp, and the scouts whom
I had sent out captured three spies from a town in this land named
Zapotitlán. I asked them what they came for, and they told me that they
were collecting honey, but it was notorious that they were spies...."
[Illustration: THE PLAZA, ATITLAN.]
[Illustration: MAP OF UTATLAN. Ancient Capital of THE QUICHÉS.]
Alvarado had so far been marching through the tropical forest on the
Pacific slope; now that he wished to turn inland and reach the plateau
he found the path barred by a great host of Indians. A battle was
fought at Zapotitlán, and the victorious Spaniards rested for two days
in that town. Then Alvarado led his army up the Cuesta de Santa Maria
to the high land, and at the top of the pass, near the town of Xelahú
or Quezaltenango, another great battle was fought with the Quiché
warriors. Again the Indians were defeated, and Alvarado entered the
deserted town. In a short time his army was again on the march, and for
a third and last time the despairing Indians offered battle; but, as
usual, the Spaniards carried all before them, and the carnage amongst
the Indians is described as fearful. The victorious army continued its
march towards Utatlan, the capital of the Quichés; but Alvarado shall
tell the tale in his own words:--
"And when the chiefs of this town found that their people were defeated
they took counsel with all the land and called many other provinces
to them and gave tribute to their enemies and induced them to join
them, so that all might come together and kill us. And they agreed to
send and tell us that they had wished to be friends, and that again
they gave obedience to our Lord the Emperor, so that I should enter
the city of Utatlan, where they afterwards brought me, thinking that I
would camp there, and that when thus encamped, they would set fire to
the town in the night and burn us all in it, without the possibility
of resistance. And in truth their evil plan would have come to pass
but that God our Lord did not see good that these infidels should be
victorious over us, for this city is very strong, and there are only
two ways of entering it, one over thirty steep stone steps, and
the other by a causeway made by hand, some part of which was already
cut away, so that that night they might finish cutting it, and no horse
could then have escaped into the country. As the city is very closely
built and the streets very narrow we could not have escaped suffocation
or falling down headlong in fleeing from the fire. And as we rode up,
and I could see how large the fort was, and that within it one could
not avail oneself of the horsemen because the streets were so narrow
and walled in, I determined at once to clear out of it on to the plain,
although the chiefs of the town asked me not to do so, and invited me
to seat myself and eat before I departed, so as to gain time to carry
out their plans. But I knew the danger in which we were, and sent some
men ahead of me to take possession of the causeway and bridge, so that
I could get out on to the plain, and the causeway was already in such a
condition that one could hardly get over it on horseback, and outside
the city were many warriors, and as they saw me pass out on to the
plain, they retreated somewhat, so that I did not receive much harm
from them. Then I concealed my real intentions so that I might capture
the chiefs who were taking to flight, and by the cunning with which I
approached them, and through the present which I gave them the better
to carry out my plan, I took them captive and held them prisoners in my
camp. But, nevertheless, their people did not cease fighting against
me in the neighbourhood and killed and wounded many Indians who had
gone out to cut grass. And one Spaniard who was cutting grass a gunshot
from the camp was slain by a stone rolled down the hill. This land is
very full of gulleys, there are gulleys two hundred fathoms in depth,
and on account of them one cannot carry on war and punish these people
as they deserve. And seeing that by fire and sword I might bring these
people to the service of his Majesty, I determined to burn the chiefs,
and they themselves said at the time that they wished to be burnt,
as appears in their confessions (where they say that they were those
who had declared and made the war against me and wished to burn me in
the city; and it was with this intention that they brought me to the
city, and that they had ordered their vassals not to come and give
obedience to our Lord the Emperor, nor help us nor do anything else
that was right). And as I knew them to have such a bad disposition
towards the service of his Majesty, and to insure the good and peace
of this land, I burnt them and sent to burn the town and to destroy
it, for it is a very strong and dangerous place, that more resembles
a robbers' stronghold than a city. And to enable me to hunt out these
people I sent to the city of Guatemala, which is ten leagues distant
from this place, and ordered them on the part of his Majesty to send
me some warriors (and this I did so that I could find out what their
disposition was, as well as to strike terror into the land), and they
were well disposed towards me and agreed to do so, and sent me four
thousand men, and with these men and those that were already with me, I
made an expedition and overran the whole of the country. And seeing the
damages which they had suffered they sent me messengers to tell me that
now they wished to be good, and that if they had erred it had been at
the order of their chiefs, and that whilst their chiefs had been living
they dared not do otherwise, but as now their chiefs were dead they
prayed me to pardon them, and I spared their lives, and ordered them
to return to their houses and live as they had done formerly; and this
they did, and at the present time I have them in the same condition as
they were formerly, but at the service of his Majesty. And for greater
security I chose out two sons of the chiefs, whom I placed in their
fathers' position, and I believe that they will carry out faithfully
all that tends to the service of his Majesty and the good of his lands.
And as far as touches the war I have nothing more at present to relate,
but that all the prisoners of war were branded and made slaves, of whom
I gave his Majesty's fifth part to the treasurer Baltasar de Mendoza,
which he sold by public auction, so that the payment to his Majesty
should be secure.
"I would wish your Excellency to know that the country is healthy and
the climate temperate, that there are many strong towns, and that this
city is well built and wonderfully strong, and has much cornland and
many people subject to it, the which, with all the subject towns and
neighbourhoods, I have placed under the yoke and in the service of the
royal crown of his Majesty.
"In this country there is a mountain range of alum, another of
copperas, and another of sulphur, the best which I have yet seen, and
with a piece of it which they brought me without refining or any such
process, I made half an arroba of very good gun-powder; but as I wish
to send off Argueta without delay, I do not send to your Excellency 50
charges of it, but whenever there should be a messenger there will be
time for it. On Monday, April 11th, I started for Guatemala, where I
mean to halt for a short time, because the town which is situated on
the water called Atitlan is at war with me, and has killed four of my
messengers, and I think with the aid of our Lord soon to subdue it to
the service of his Majesty."
Alvarado then marched to Iximché, or Guatemala, as he calls it, and was
received in a most friendly manner by the Cachiquels: "we could not
have been better treated in our fathers' houses," he writes to Cortés.
After a few days' rest he joined his hosts in an expedition against the
Tzutuhils; but he shall continue to tell the story in his own words:--
"I left this town (Iximché) to go against them with seventy horsemen
and a hundred and fifty foot, in company with the chieftains and people
of this land, and we marched so far that we arrived in the enemy's
land on the same day. And no one came out to receive me in peace or
otherwise, and when I was aware of this I started with thirty horsemen
along the edge of the lagoon, and when we came to an inhabited rock,
which stood out in the water, we saw a company of men very near us, and
I attacked them with the horsemen that were with me, and as we followed
in pursuit they got on to a narrow causeway which led to the rock where
we could not follow on horseback, so I and my companions dismounted,
and almost carried along with the Indians we reached the rock along
with them on foot, so that they had no time to break down the bridges,
for had they done so we could not have reached them.
"In the meantime many of my men, who had been marching behind me, came
up to us, and we gained possession of the rock, which was thickly
inhabited, but all the people threw themselves into the water to swim
to another island. And many of them escaped, because my allies, who
were bringing three hundred canoes across the lake, did not arrive
soon enough. And that afternoon I left the rock with all my men and we
camped in a maize field, where we passed the night.
"And the next day we commended ourselves to God, and set out for the
town on ahead of us, which was very strong on account of the many rocks
and Palisades about it, and we found it deserted; and as they had lost
the fortress which they had in the lake they did not dare to face us on
land, although a few of them waited for us at the end of the town, but
owing to the roughness of the ground, which I have already mentioned,
no more people were killed. And then we encamped about midday, and
commenced to overrun the country, and we captured some of the native
Indians, and I sent off three of them as messengers to their chiefs,
advising them that they should come and render obedience to his Majesty
and submit themselves to the Imperial crown, and to me in his Majesty's
name, or otherwise I should still carry on the war, and follow them and
seek them in the mountains. These chiefs replied to me that hitherto
their land had never been broken into nor entered by force of arms, and
that since I had forced an entrance they would be glad to serve his
Majesty in any way I might direct them, and soon afterwards they came
to place themselves at my orders."
Alvarado had now subdued two of the strong tribes of the country, and
was in alliance with the third, so was free to continue his march;
and after a most arduous journey and frequent collisions with other
and less important Indian tribes he succeeded in reaching Cuzcatlán,
a town in what is now the Republic of Salvador. By the month of July
he was back again in Iximché, and the ceremony which then took place
of founding there the city of Santiago and the subsequent changes of
locality which the city underwent have been described in an earlier
chapter.
Interesting as Alvarado's letters are in showing us his method of
procedure in dealing with the Indians and the nature of the resistance
he met with, they give us very little information about the natives
themselves, the way in which they lived, or the culture to which they
had attained. For these particulars it has been usual to rely upon
later writings, and especially on the 'History of Guatemala,' written
between 1808 and 1818 by Domingo Juarros, who, in his turn, relies for
much of his information on the 'Recordacion Florida,' a manuscript
account of the kingdom of Guatemala written, in 1690, by Francisco
Antonio Fuentes y Guzman, and still preserved in the city of Guatemala.
The following description of Utatlan is taken from Baily's translation
of Juarros:--
"The history of this place is singular, as it was once the large and
opulent city of Utatlan, the court of the native kings of Quiché, and
indubitably the most sumptuous that was discovered by the Spaniards
in this country. That indefatigable writer Francisco de Fuentes,
the historian, who went to Quiché for the purpose of collecting
information, partly from the antiquities of the place, and partly from
manuscripts, has given a tolerably good description of this capital.
It stood nearly in the situation that Santa Cruz now occupies, and
it is presumable that the latter was one of its suburbs; it was
surrounded by a deep ravine that formed a natural fosse, leaving
only two very narrow roads as entrances to the city, both of which
were so well defended by the castle of _Resguardo_, as to render it
impregnable. The centre of the city was occupied by the royal palace,
which was surrounded by the houses of the nobility; the extremities
were inhabited by the plebeians. The streets were very narrow, but the
place was so populous as to enable the king to draw from it alone no
less than 72,000 combatants, to oppose the progress of the Spaniards.
It contained many very sumptuous edifices, the most superb of them
was a seminary, where between 5000 and 6000 children were educated;
they were all maintained and provided for at the charge of the royal
treasury; their instruction was superintended by 70 masters and
professors. The castle of the Atalaya was a remarkable structure, which
being raised four stories high, was capable of furnishing quarters
for a very strong garrison. The castle of Resguardo was not inferior
to the other; it extended 188 paces in front, 230 in depth, and was
5 stories high. The grand alcazar, or palace of the kings of Quiché,
surpassed every other edifice, and, in the opinion of Torquemada, it
could compete in opulence with that of Moctesuma in Mexico, or that of
the Incas in Cuzco. The front of this building extended from east to
west 376 geometrical paces, and in depth 728; it was constructed of
hewn stone of different colours; its form was elegant, and altogether
most magnificent: there were 6 principal divisions, the first
contained lodgings for a numerous troop of lancers, archers, and other
well-disciplined troops, constituting the royal body-guard; the second
was destined to the accommodation of the princes and relations of the
king, who dwelt in it and were served with regal splendour, as long as
they remained unmarried; the third was appropriated to the use of the
king, and contained distinct suites of apartments, for the mornings,
evenings, and nights. In one of the saloons stood the throne, under
four canopies of plumage, the ascent to it was by several steps; in
this part of the palace were, the treasury, the tribunals of the
judges, the armory, the gardens, aviaries, and menageries, with all
the requisite offices appending to each department. The 4th and 5th
divisions were occupied by the queens and royal concubines; they were
necessarily of great extent, from the immense number of apartments
requisite for the accommodation of so many females, who were all
maintained in a style of sumptuous magnificence; gardens for their
recreation, baths, and proper places for breeding geese, that were
kept for the sole purpose of furnishing feathers, with which hangings,
coverings, and other similar ornamental articles, were made. Contiguous
to this division was the sixth and last; this was the residence of the
king's daughters and other females of the blood royal, where they were
educated, and attended in a manner suitable to their rank. The nation
of the Quichés, or Tultecas, extended its empire over the greatest
portion of the present kingdom of Guatemala; and, on the authority of
the manuscripts mentioned above (which were composed by some of the
Caciques, who first acquired the art of writing), it is related that
from Tanuh, who commanded them, and conducted them from the old to the
new continent, down to Tecum Umam, who reigned at the period when the
Spaniards arrived, there was a line of 20 monarchs."
To show how far these statements can be relied on, it will now be worth
while to pass in review the remains of Utatlan as it can be seen at
the present day. I visited both Utatlan and Iximché in January 1887,
and made surveys of the sites. Utatlan lies about two miles to the
W.S.W. of the modern town of Santa Cruz del Quiché. On the left of the
track from the town, just before reaching the great barranca, there
is a natural mound, the sides of which have been terraced, and on the
top is a more or less level space measuring 200 by 150 feet. Within
this space are several mounds surrounding a level plaza. A reference
to the plan will show that two of the mounds are nearly square at the
base, and these probably supported small "cués" or temples; the other
two mounds are longer, and may have supported long houses. If these
houses were built of stone with stone roofs they probably contained
two parallel corridors or rooms not more than 9 feet wide and 200 feet
long, divided off by transverse partitions into smaller chambers. If
the lower part only were built of stone and the upper part of the walls
and the roof were of wood and thatch, then the breadth of the houses
may have been 20 to 25 feet, as no longitudinal partition-wall would
have been needed. At the present time no traces of house or temple
walls are to be seen, and the stone facings have even been stripped off
the foundation mounds, for the whole group of ruined buildings has long
been treated as a quarry by the people of Santa Cruz. There can be no
doubt that this group of mounds represents the guard-house or Castle
of Resguardo; but it is quite clear from the plan that the buildings
were of the same nature as those found throughout the country, and they
stand grouped together in the usual manner. The position they occupy is
a naturally strong one, and would offer great facilities for defence,
but there is nothing especially characteristic of a fortress about the
buildings themselves.
After leaving this hill a walk of about two hundred yards brings one
to the edge of the barranca and to the narrow natural causeway by
which alone the city or stronghold of Utatlan could be approached. On
crossing this narrow bridge one finds oneself on a fairly level space
of ground about eighteen acres in extent, with almost precipitous
sides, over which one can look down to the bottom of the barranca four
hundred feet below.
[Illustration]
Nearly the whole area affords some trace of ruined buildings, but
almost all the stonework has been stripped from the foundations,
and the buildings which stood on them have altogether disappeared.
Stephens, who visited the ruins in 1840, gives the following account
of the principal temple:--"The most important part remaining of these
ruins is that which appears in the engraving, and which is called 'El
Sacrificatorio,' or the place of sacrifice. It is a quadrangular stone
structure, sixty-six feet on each side at the base, and rising in a
pyramidal form to a height, in its present condition, of thirty-three
feet. On three sides there is a range of steps in the middle, each step
seventeen inches high, and but eight inches on the upper surface, which
makes the range so steep that in descending some caution is necessary.
At the corners are four buttresses of cut stone, diminishing in size
from the line of the square, and apparently intended to support the
structure. On the side facing the west there are no steps, but the
surface is smooth and covered with stucco, grey from long exposure.
By breaking a little at the corners, we saw that there were different
layers of stucco, doubtless put on at different times, and all had been
ornamented with painted figures. In one place we made out the body of a
leopard, well drawn and coloured.
"The top of the Sacrificatorio is broken and ruined, but there is
no doubt that it once supported an altar.... It was barely large
enough for the altar and officiating priests and the Idol to whom the
sacrifice was offered."
I have reproduced Catherwood's sketch and plan which accompanies this
description; the scale given on the plan does not agree with the
description, and unfortunately I did not take any detailed measurements
of the mound in its present ruined condition; but in any case it is
clear that the building was a small one. The sides of the long mounds,
which are just indicated in my plan, are perpendicular, and these
foundations may have supported stone-roofed buildings, in which case
we know that the chambers could not have been more than nine feet
wide, and even on the larger mounds there would not have been room for
more than two of such chambers side by side. The small fragment of a
stone-vaulted roof in the remains of a half-buried chamber shows that
the Quichés understood the art of building stone roofs. But, to judge
from Alvarado's statement that it was the intention of the Indians to
set fire to the town and burn or smother him and his followers, there
can be little doubt that some of the houses must have been built of
inflammable material, probably of wood and thatch. But amongst these
small and distinct foundation mounds where is the Palace to be found?
The absurdity of Fuentes's oft-copied description at once becomes
evident. According to the measurements he gives, the Palace alone would
occupy nearly three times the whole space available for building, and
with the seminary, the gardens, and the aquatic fowl must be relegated
to a dreamland suffused with the afterglow of Oriental splendour from
which the Spanish chronicler was so ready to seek inspiration.
It is hardly worth while to compare the account of Iximché given by
Fuentes and Juarros with the facts revealed by an examination of the
ruins; it would be to a great extent a repetition of what has already
been said with regard to Utatlan. The sites were similar; both were
peninsulas almost surrounded by deep barrancas, and approachable only
by a single neck of land, and each was guarded on the outer edge of the
barranca by a girdle of "atalayas" or watch-towers, which were most
probably small truncated pyramids supporting a cue or shrine which
served for the religious use of the outlying population.
All the tribes or nations whom the Spaniards encountered in the
subjugation of Guatemala and its neighbourhood appear to have had as
their headquarters such strongholds as Utatlan and Iximché, or towns
built on rocky islands in the lakes. Such was the stronghold in the
lake of the Lacandones and the island town of Puchutla, described in
the pages of Remesal, which was conquered in the year 1559. Such, too,
was the island of Tayasal in the Lake of Peten, the headquarters of
the Itzas, captured in 1697, of which some account will be given in a
later chapter; and with these may be classed the ruins on the hill-top
at Uspantan and the curious groups of temples and houses which crown
the ridges of the hills round the valley of Rabinal. None of them
appear to have possessed walls and bastions such as we are accustomed
to associate with fortresses; but all were placed in naturally strong
positions, and were easily defensible, and their existence tends to
the conclusion that the condition of society was one of continual
intertribal warfare.
None of the sites of these strongholds have yielded any examples of the
carved hieroglyphic inscriptions, highly ornamented stone buildings, or
elaborately-sculptured monolithic monuments which are to be found at
Copan, Quirigua, or Palenque; and it cannot be too strongly insisted on
that between the civilization revealed to us by those great ruins and
the culture of the Indian tribes conquered by the Spaniards there is a
great gap which at present we have no means of bridging.
CHAPTER IX.
ACROSS THE ALTOS.
Our journey began again on the 25th January, along the road by the
lake shore and round a bluff headland which divides the delta of
Panajachél from a much smaller plain of the same formation. Then the
track rose rapidly and we gained a view over the lake, and glimpses of
little Indian towns nestling beneath the lofty headlands and at the
foot of the distant volcanoes. The beauty of this view under a canopy
of the deepest blue flecked with billowy clouds, the charm of leafy
lands through which we passed, and the pleasant sound of the little
mountain rivulets leaping over the rocks and then hiding themselves
with a sullen murmur in impenetrable thickets, have together left on
my mind an impression of grandeur and charm not easily to be effaced.
As we rose higher, more mountains came in sight, and in all their
magnificence our old friends Agua and Fuego stood out upon the horizon.
From one point in the road I could distinctly see the peaks of five
of the great volcanoes which tower over the distant coast-line. We
continued to rise until we reached the town of Sololá, 2000 feet above
the lake and 7000 feet above the sea, and the temperature at that
altitude was delicious.
Naturally our steps turned towards the plaza, but we found it
uninteresting and almost deserted. After some questioning we were
directed to a small posada, or inn, in a back street, where a good
breakfast was served to us in a sort of outhouse, on a dirty cloth
covering a table standing on stilts. As the legs of the chairs were
as short in proportion as the legs of the table were long (and I
afterwards learnt from experience that the ratio was nearly constant
throughout the country), the distance between the food and one's mouth
was short. However, the little garden of the inn was pretty enough to
compensate for all inconveniences, and I was allowed to take as many
violets and roses as it pleased me to gather.
Sololá is a centre of the weaving industry, and is also famed for the
fine embroidery with which the women decorate their garments. We had
been fairly fortunate at Panajachél in securing samples of the fabrics
woven there, as the women were willing to sell when a good price was
offered them; but here we met with no success whatever. Gorgonio, who
had gone out in search of "trapos" for us, returned almost blushing
after having been exposed to a fire of invective from the women whom
he had approached on the subject; they not only refused to sell him
anything, but scorned his offers of money, and finally ran him out
of the plaza. We then tried the "estancos," where native garments are
almost always to be found left as pledges in payment for liquor, which
the estanquero can sell if not redeemed within a stated time; but here
again we failed, as the municipality of Sololá had very properly put
a stop to this miserable practice and forbidden the estanqueros to
receive pledges of any kind.
The "patron" of the posada had become interested in our search, and
did his best to induce an Indian girl who was sitting in his patio to
sell us the beautifully embroidered huipil which she was wearing; but
she stoutly refused the money he offered her, and was evidently so
unwilling to part with her garment that we told him not to trouble her
further. However, his blood was up for a bargain, he evidently despised
our scruples, and paying no attention to them went on pestering the
girl until she held her head down and blushingly owned that the garment
she was wearing was the only one she possessed.
In the afternoon we rode on over the hills to the northward until
we reached Los Encuentros, a station on the diligence-road between
the cities of Guatemala and Quezaltenango. This road here runs at an
altitude of 10,000 feet above the sea along the ridge of the range
of hills which divides the plains of Chimaltenango and Patzun from
the valley of the Motagua River. Here we halted for the night at the
rest-house and in company with five other hungry travellers sat down
to a meagre supper. I forget what the first course was, but it was
not attractive, and the "pièce de résistance" was a very diminutive
chicken. I watched that chicken, as it was brought in, with hungry
eyes; but, alas! it was handed to our native companions first, and
the free use of their unwashed knives and forks in its dissection
took all my appetite away. Two of our companions were Englishmen, old
acquaintances of my husband's, so we made ourselves as comfortable
as was possible in the verandah, had a cosy cup of tea together, and
satisfied our appetites on strawberry-jam and "pan dulce."
The next morning we made an early start. Our way for about three
leagues lay in a more open country on the downward slope towards the
Rio Motagua, through maize-stubbles, and dried-up pastures, where a
few miserable black-and-white sheep were being herded by wild-looking
Indian urchins. About midday we caught sight of a group of red-tiled
roofs in front of us, and soon afterwards rode into the large Indian
town of Santo Tomas Chichicastenango--a brown, dusty-looking place,
lacking even the relief to the eye one might have expected from the
presence of the chichicaste or tree-nettle, from which the town takes
its name. The chichicaste is a tree with which we had already become
familiar, as it is so commonly used for fencing round the Indian
dwellings, and is one of the most picturesque features of the Indian
villages. This is not perhaps the view taken by the native children,
as a whipping with chichicaste-leaves is very commonly threatened by
Indian mothers when their little ones are unruly. It had occurred to
us that the comparative antiquity of the sites of the villages might
almost be judged from the condition of the chichicaste-hedges alone.
In their youth the stems stand apart, forming an ordinary-looking live
fence, and although in the course of their growth they are pollarded
and hacked about without mercy, yet as time goes on they build
themselves up into a continuous wall, broken here and there by the
still more solid stems of gigantic Yuccas, which branch above into a
dozen spiky heads. In extreme old age decay eats holes through these
living walls, and the breach is as often as not patched up with rough
stones, or even in some cases with masonry and cement; but nothing
seems to kill the trees altogether, and the hacked and patched stems
often present an appearance of hoary antiquity.
Santo Tomas boasts of no inn, but we found something to eat at a dirty
little house, where we were attended to by an old crone, who spoke
no language intelligible to us. After breakfast we strolled into the
picturesque plaza, bright with the gala costumes of the Indians. The
women wore heavy chains of beads and coins round their necks, and
were clothed in the most elaborately embroidered huipils we had as
yet seen. Almost every man carried a blue-or brown-striped rug on his
shoulder, and some queerly-dressed old men wandered amongst the crowd,
with distaff in hand, spinning woollen thread. A grand fiesta was in
progress in the church--probably a preparation for "Candelaria," which
falls on 2nd February--to which, as usual, the Ladinos appeared to be
supremely indifferent; indeed, they never seem to trouble themselves
about the customs of the race so nearly allied to them, and look down
on the Indians as inferiors, only fit to be human beasts of burden.
It is useless to ask them what an Indian ceremony may mean: the only
answer one gets is, "No se, Señora, es costumbre de los Indios." Even
Gorgonio, whom I delight to look upon as an exception to the rule, on
this occasion showed no desire to enlighten my curiosity, so we mounted
the steps and entered the great bare church to learn as much as we
could for ourselves.
At the top of the stone steps in front of the open church-door a
large pile of wood-ashes smouldered and flickered faintly in the
sunlight; the man who tended this fire every now and then threw on the
embers small pieces of copal, which scented the air with its heavy
perfumed smoke, whilst around the fire groups of women knelt to pray
before entering the building. We found the interior to be charmingly
decorated with flowers. The floor had first been strewn with fragrant
pine-needles, and on this carpet the flowers were arranged in the shape
of a huge cross, extending almost the whole length of the church. In
some parts the lines were traced in green and coloured leaves, and
filled up with scattered rose-petals; in others with clusters of all
the flowers that could be found in bloom, edged with little groups of
lighted candles. Picturesquely dressed Indians, singly or in couples,
were dragging themselves on their knees the whole length of the cross,
stopping at intervals to repeat prayers. No priest officiated, and none
but Indians were in the least interested in the service, if such it
could be called. As we were leaving the church, we stopped to watch a
funeral procession coming across the plaza. The men ascended the church
steps, carrying the ugly black catafalque on their shoulders, but to
our surprise, instead of entering the church with their burden, they
turned the catafalque round three times in front of the fire where the
copal was burning, fired off a rocket, and then went away again. While
this ceremony was being rapidly performed the friends and relations of
the dead man stood some distance away in the plaza crying and weeping
loudly.
To anyone not already used to the ways of the Spanish peasantry one
of the first things that strikes one as curious in Central America
is this constant firing of rockets in the daytime. No ceremony is
complete until the swish and report of a rocket have been heard. The
pilgrim when he reaches his native village fires a rocket to announce
his arrival. It is the expression of joy at a fiesta, and it is the
last rite necessary for the repose of the dead. A story is told of an
Indian cacique who was taken to Spain to the Court of Charles V. As the
emperor passed through the corridor after the morning levée, he caught
sight of the cacique and addressed him with a few words of welcome,
and then added: "Tell me, my friend, what would your countrymen be
doing at your own home at this hour in the morning." Now, it had been
most strongly impressed upon the cacique that should the Emperor
ask him any questions he should say nothing in reply which was not
strictly and accurately true. This oft-repeated counsel had sunk deep
into his mind, so after a pause he raised his head and said, "Señor,
mis paisanos estan tirando cohetes" ("at this hour my countrymen are
firing rockets"). The Emperor smiled and passed on, but meeting the
cacique again at midday he repeated the question and received the same
answer. Again in the evening he called the Indian to him and said,
"Now that the sun has set and the work of the day is done, how are
your countrymen amusing themselves?" "Señor," replied the cacique, "my
countrymen are still firing rockets."
For about two leagues beyond Santo Tomas the country was much the
same as that through which we had passed in the morning. Then came a
gradual descent through a forest of small trees, followed by a steep
dip into the barranca through which the Motagua flows. It is here only
a shallow swift-flowing rivulet, easily fordable, and giving little
promise of the great volume of water which, after a further course of
about 250 miles, it pours into the Gulf of Honduras. We scrambled up
the other side of the barranca and soon reached a small tableland on
which stands the village of Chiché. Just before arriving at the village
we passed through a group of artificial mounds which mark the site of
what must in old times have been a town of considerable importance. The
original stone-facing of the foundations was probably carried off to
serve as building-stone when the Spaniards first occupied Chiché, and
the mounds, some of which are 20 to 30 feet in height, are somewhat
indefinite in outline owing to the many times they have been worked
over by the Indian cultivators of the soil when planting their milpas.
Gorgonio examined the mounds the next day and brought us some fragments
of obsidian knives and stone implements which he had picked up, and he
told us that on the summits of the higher mounds the Indians had placed
rough stone crosses, or heaped together a few stones to form a sort of
shrine in which to burn candles or offerings of copal. When in order
to examine the surface of the mounds Gorgonio used his machete to cut
away some of the scrubby bushes growing on the summits the Indians were
almost ready to go for him--so valuable has anything which can be used
as firewood become in this dried-up neighbourhood.
The village itself is an uninteresting collection of houses built
of adobes and roofed with tiles. The cabildo was under repair and
roofless, and there was no school-house; but we found shelter in a
room in a new half-finished house, where, after removing the remains
of the building-materials, we made ourselves fairly comfortable.
Gorgonio lighted a fire outside in the village street and, gazed at by
an admiring crowd of children, I cooked the supper. Luckily there was
plenty of good bread to be bought, and a neighbour supplied us with
excellent coffee.
We were now going altogether out of the beaten track and should have
to take our chance of shelter for the night in cabildo, convento, or
school-house, and when these failed we could take refuge in our tent
(which last proved to be the most comfortable lodging of them all), but
it was to be used only as a last resource, so as to avoid the trouble
of setting it up at night, when wearied with a long day's ride, and
the extra packing which would delay the start in the morning. Our plan
was to travel a short distance to the northward and crossing the Rio
Negro to reach Uspantan, an ancient stronghold of the Quichés, then
to recross the river lower down and make our way to Cubulco and the
Rabinal valley. It was all new ground to my husband, but Gorgonio had
been through the country before and had long been anxious that his
"patron" should visit and examine the sites of old towns with which
it abounds. As the road was known to be a very rough one, we sent the
heavier part of our baggage direct to Rabinal to await our arrival, and
only carried sufficient food for ourselves and half rations for the men
should tortillas and frijoles perchance fail us.
We tarried at Chiché for a day whilst our arrangements were being made,
and on Sunday morning rode out on our way to Uspantan. For the first
league we travelled up hill through bare and uninteresting country and
then dropped down to Chinic, a village of much the same type as Chiché,
but having the advantage of shelter and a good supply of water, which
enabled its inhabitants to turn the land round about into a garden of
bananas and oranges. After breakfasting in the verandah of the cabildo
we set out again, our saddle-bags filled with fresh fruit from the
market, which we devoured on the way with an enjoyment only to be felt
during a long and dusty ride under a tropical sun.
Our road lay over the range of hills which bounds the Motagua valley on
the north side. It was a steep rise and we finally attained a height
of 7000 feet, about 2000 feet lower than the pass which we crossed at
Los Encuentros on the southern side of the valley. On the hill-tops we
passed through some groves of the beautiful small-leaved oaks which are
usually met with at this altitude on the Pacific slope, but we could
not find any of the yellow calceolarias which my husband had once seen
in bloom when he crossed this same range further to the east. Looking
down from the hill-tops one is able to appreciate the great extent of
the river valley. It is a level-looking plain, thinly covered with
pine-trees and seamed by steep-sided barrancas cut by the Motagua and
its affluents. The hills on either side were cultivated in patches to
their summits, and above the southern range we could still see the
peaks of Agua, Fuego, and Atitlan. The day was so enchantingly lovely
that we lingered to enjoy the views, to pick the abundant wild-flowers,
to rest in the grateful shade of the woods, and generally to drink in
the charm of our surroundings, and forgot to fulfil that never-ending
task of hurrying up the loitering cargadores, who knew the length of
the journey before them much better than we did, but who were more than
willing to take advantage of a halt, as they had only partly recovered
from the effects of the aguardiente imbibed during a fiesta the day
before. When at last we began to urge them on they baulked us at every
turn in the track, and were always halting on one excuse or another, so
that during two hours we hardly made any progress at all; then about
four in the afternoon, when we had hardly commenced the descent on the
north side of the range, our Indians went on strike altogether and
refused to go any further that day. Neither persuasion nor threats
moved them from their purpose, and down they sat by the roadside and
settled themselves for the night. We were still three or four leagues
from our destination, and as the mules with our camp kit had pushed on
ahead we could not possibly pass the night on the mountain. So making
the best of a bad business, and trying to avoid the futility of losing
one's temper with an obstinate Indian, we abandoned dressing-bags and
the other useful things which they were carrying, and pushed on as fast
as our animals would travel in hope of reaching San Andrés Sacabajá
before dark. Lofty mountains fenced us round, and the little river
which ran down a narrow valley towards San Andrés was fully 3000 feet
below us. The descent was without a break and the track w
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