GUATEMALA CITY.
The run back to Escuintla took two hours and a half, and our comida was
welcome at five o’clock. In the evening we strolled to the church,—an
ancient building,—and found all the inside in confusion; the altar was
hidden from profane eyes by a cotton curtain, while preparations were
being made for the _fiesta_ of December 8,—the Immaculate Conception. One
of the attendants showed us with great pride a huge doll, representing
the Virgin Mary, standing on a blue globe studded with silver stars.
Beneath her feet was a _culebra grande_; and on twisting his tail the
serpent’s tongue was thrust out,—to the intense delight of the Indian
devotees. The priest—if such were his dignity—wished us to examine
the lace robes of the “Queen of Heaven,” and to note particularly the
decorations. As we returned to the hotel we heard a marimba, and soon
met a religious procession, consisting mostly of women. In a small plaza
we saw, covering a figure of the Virgin, a booth decorated with flowers
and fruits,—especially long strings of _manzanillas_.[23] Before this
image men and women (of respectable rank, we were assured) were dancing,
disguised in horrible masks representing devils and animals.
Escuintla is the favorite watering-place of the capital, and its baths
are certainly attractive,—especially to the Guatemalans, whose city
is supplied with miserable water. The citizens, some five thousand in
number, are occupied in commerce and agriculture. In the near future
Escuintla seems destined to become the railroad centre of the republic,
as the lines from Puerto Barrios and from Ocós will meet there.
Early in the morning of the third day of our stay at this place we
started out for one of the best bathing-places, on the way taking several
photographs. At a bath-house we passed, the men bathing in the tank came
out frequently through the wide-open door to talk with the women who were
washing clothes in the brook outside. As these men were wholly naked, I
wished to photograph this “custom” of the country; but when they saw the
camera they modestly retired within and shut the door.
Our own bath, an open pool some fifty by a hundred feet, was of a depth
increasing from three to eight feet. A high brick wall bounded one side,
and we were told that beyond this was a bath for women. A shed in which
to undress, and a tile platform on which to dry one’s self, was all the
apparatus; but the water was cool and of a wonderful clearness, and
we prolonged our swim. The fee was only a medio (five cents). In the
season, which extends from December to March, doubtless the crowd is
disagreeable; but we had the pool entirely to ourselves.
After almuerzo we started for Amatitlan; and a weary, dusty road it was,
although the main road to the capital from the port. Frank’s mare seemed
as though sunstruck, and sank down powerless by the road. Fortunately
we were near a brook. We poured cool water on her head, and she soon
recovered. We met great herds of cattle on their way from the dry uplands
to the juicy pastures of the lowlands, and also stages full of miserable
people, shaken and dusty, and with the look one might fancy a soul in
purgatory would assume,—always supposing it had a face.
The Falls of the Michatoya by the roadside relieved the monotony of the
way, but were not so beautiful as I had expected from Stephens’s account.
We found the rails of the ferro-carril laid as far as Palin;[24] and it
was graded beyond Amatitlan, on its way to Guatemala City, which it has
since (1886) reached. Basaltic rock was abundant along the road, and so
were beehives,—generally made from a hollow log and hung horizontally
under the eaves of the houses. Honey, costing us a medio a quart, was
very good; wax, however, is a more valuable product, as it plays a very
important part in the service of religion, masses costing so many pounds
of wax candles. The bees seem to be quite inoffensive, and the hives
often hung close to the house-doors. Sugar estates were common in this
district, the water-power being generally furnished by the Michatoya
river. The chimneys of the _ingenios_ did not indicate severe or frequent
earthquakes here. Oranges, not of the finest quality, sold at three cents
a dozen. Late in the afternoon we passed some cochineal plantations in a
rather neglected state, and soon after entered Amatitlan, where we found
a pretty little posada. Our mozos, who were fine fellows, were not far
behind us. The barometer told us that we were 3,650 feet above San José.
[Illustration: Section of Boat at Amatitlan.]
In the morning, finding sacate very dear, we made up our bestias’
breakfast with maiz, and started betimes. We rode to the Lago de
Amatitlan, which is very shallow, but clear near the shore. In the depths
of this lake were thrown, according to tradition, immense treasures; and
every now and then some ancient idol or bit of pottery is dragged up.
On the banks were willows of considerable size; altogether, the whole
scene was very different from anything we had found in the republic.
The fishermen’s boats were of a peculiar shape,—projecting below the
water-line, so that a cross-section amidships would be like the diagram.
In trying a short cut back to the main road, we were lost in a _cafétal_,
and had to ask the people in charge to open a locked gate and let us out
upon our road. We ascended seven hundred feet and found a good path. In
various places there were deposits of fine pumice, much of which had
been excavated, leaving caverns large enough to shelter many people from
the weather. We entered the capital about noon, meeting Santiago on the
outskirts, who conducted us to the Hotel del Globo. At this hotel, which
was kept by a wretched German, we found our mozos, and the luggage we
had sent from Coban and Antigua, in perfect order.
We were now in the principal city of Central America,—a city well worthy
of study; but not at all a representative one, for all that. After the
earthquake of Santa Marta, in 1773, had ruined the beautiful city of
Antigua Guatemala, the inhabitants sought a more stable site, farther
from the slopes of the great volcanoes; and the valley of the Hermitage
was selected, towards the north. Here was the half church, half fortress,
that still interests the visitor; but all around was a sterile plain, and
its elevation and distance from any port seemed most unfavorable to the
growth of a large city. Eighty-four miles separate Guatemala City from
its port of San José; while the Atlantic ports are more than a hundred
leagues away, with no carriage-road between. In spite of these and other
disadvantages, the city of Saint James has grown to be the largest and
most important of Central America. It numbers among its churches some
of the finest in the country; and its other public buildings are of
imposing size, if devoid of any architectural merit. Almost all the
houses are of one story; and the paved streets, laid out at right angles,
and of nearly uniform width, do not attract the stranger as he rides
over the exceedingly rough pavement. Indeed, our first impressions were
very unfavorable; for had we not seen Coban, Quezaltenango, Sololà, and
Antigua,—all of them much more beautiful than any part of Guatemala City?
It was not until we were well out of the city that we were pleased with
it,—not until it became a confused mass of white walls almost hidden in
foliage, with the church-towers rising above, and in the distance those
two noble volcanoes higher still, their heads well in the clouds. A
city of sixty thousand inhabitants, with its houses extending six miles
north and south, with a population of many nations and tribes,—mingling
the sixteenth with the nineteenth century in many customs and business
ways,—was not to be seen at a glance, was not to be understood even after
a sojourn of a few days. We envied the faculty of our English cousins who
can come to America, spend a few weeks,—even days,—and then go home and
write with more knowledge of the places they have just glanced at than
the inhabitants ever possessed.
[Illustration: STREET IN GUATEMALA CITY.]
As we entered the city we passed at some distance the fort of San José;
and it was significant that the guns all pointed towards the city it was
supposed to protect. Taking no interest in military matters, which I am
constrained to believe are undesirable if not unnecessary relics of a
barbarous age, I did not go any nearer to see whether, as in the case of
San Felipe, the guns were more deadly to those within than those outside
the fort; but the walls looked queer, and we were assured that they were
of adobe, painted to imitate stone blocks,—a kind of Quaker wall.
[Illustration: GUATEMALA CITY FROM CARMEN.]
Although the Plaza is always the principal focus of a Spanish town, no
street ever leads directly to it, all lead by it, as if accidentally; and
so we found ourselves in the public square of Guatemala before we had
been an hour in the city. It was simply a square taken from the tiresome
rectangles of the city; and only on one side had it any sufficiently
imposing boundaries. The Government had suppressed the priestly power;
but its monument still towered above the very insignificant buildings
used as Government offices. This metropolitan cathedral is about two
hundred and seventy-five feet long, with some architectural pretensions,
but belittled by its front towers, which were added a few years ago. The
colossal statues of the four Evangelists which guard the platform in
front detract from the effect of a good façade. The interior is plain.
In a vault beneath the church repose the remains of Rafael Carrera,
the former President of the republic. On the evening of the seventh of
December the whole front was illuminated with small lamps in honor of
the Immaculate Conception. Within was a large doll dressed to represent
the Virgin Mary, “_sanctissima, purissima, caramba!—carissima_,” as we
heard a young heathen exclaim. She stood on a blue ball spangled with
stars, and trod the _culebra grande_ as at Escuintla. All the choir-boys
wore scarlet robes. It seemed as though the attendants rather hustled the
gauze angels, which trod on snakes in imitation of Madonna. The other
churches were numerous, and the more imposing date from the days of the
Spanish domination, when all good things, including plenty of money,
were in priestly hands. Perhaps the most curious of all the churches
is that one on the Cerro del Carmen which antedates the city. Santiago
carried my camera out to the distant hill, from which I not only brought
away a picture of the church, but also chose that position for a view
of the city, after patiently waiting for the clouds to roll away from
the volcanoes of Fuego and Agua. The church itself seems more a fortress
than a temple of the Prince of Peace. The heavy gates stood ajar, and we
entered the courtyard of two centuries agone. In the midst stood a round
tower, seemingly solid, and decorated by a fillet carved with cherubim
in low relief. Within the dark church all was still and deserted; only
the graves beneath the pavement of tombstones were tenanted. A curtain
hung before the image at the altar, and a carefully written notice
requested the visitor not to uncover the Virgin without permission of the
sacristan. In the bell-tower hung a bell with the date 1748,—twenty-eight
years before the city was built within its sound, when the heavy, awkward
burden must have been brought with so much difficulty into this lonely
valley. Two others, with the painfully modern date of 1872, hung by its
side.
[Illustration: Church of the Carmen.]
[Illustration]
We wasted the whole morning in a futile attempt to call on the President.
His house was a large one-story building at the corner of the Plaza, not
distinguishable from its surroundings except by the guard of soldiers at
the gateway to its interior courtyard. The corporal in charge refused
to take my card in, telling several falsehoods as to the whereabouts of
the President his master; but at last a superior officer arrived, who
at once ordered the fellow to take the card, and we were soon ushered,
without further ceremony, into the bedroom of the Chief of the State. It
is the custom in this country to arrange the chairs in a reception-room
on either side of a sofa and at right angles to it; and the host is
expected to sit on the sofa and entertain his guests on either hand.
President Barrios occupied this place of honor when I entered; but as we
conversed he moved about until we sat side by side. He had not forgotten
our interview at Totonicapan, and was affable, seeming to understand our
wishes perfectly. He said we should have all we asked for, and called
an officer to conduct us to the Department of the Interior, where Señor
Lainfiesta, the Secretario de Estado en el Despacho de Fomento, also
promised to expedite our business. Some days later, while discussing the
resources of Guatemala with the Minister of Foreign Relations, I spoke
incidentally of the bad arrangement of the Guatemalan exhibit at Boston
in the International Exhibition of 1883; whereupon the minister asked me
to accompany him to the President and acquaint him with the matter. We
went at once,—simply across the street; and it was gratifying to see the
stupid soldiers and the insolent corporal jump up and salute the cabinet
officer as we passed in unannounced. The President’s room was full of
disorder,—articles of daily use, with books, guitars, newspapers, all
mixed together. In the courtyard was a fine bull and several sheep, just
imported. I felt that Señor Barrios greatly improved on acquaintance,
and his bright, quick eye was decidedly intelligent. He was not tall,
but stout, with an air of military stiffness which wore off slowly. In
our conversation I asked him to refer me to any printed accounts of
his personal history; but he smiled and said, “That, señor, has never
been written.” Alas for the progress of the country! that life was soon
to end by violence, in an attempt to restore the confederation of the
republics,—a scheme very dear to this energetic man, who in ten years
did more for the internal prosperity of his own republic than has been
effected by all the governments of Central America in fifty years!
There is in Guatemala but one theatre, and to that we went on a Saturday
night. The building, a general imitation of the Église de la Madeleine in
Paris, stands in the centre of a plaza of considerable size laid out as a
public garden.[25] The Government subsidy of $25,000 to $40,000 permits
the employment of good artists for five or six months in the year; and
we saw a company fresh from Madrid play “La Mujer del Vengador.” The
ballet was tolerable,—the males far surpassing the females in skill and
agility. The tickets are kept by the visitor, the coupon being taken at
the entrance. The auditorium was lighted by gasoline sufficiently, but
the decoration was plain, and not attractive. The parquette was occupied
almost exclusively by gentlemen, who gazed serenely at the ladies in the
boxes which surround this, and were gazed upon in turn in a way that
would scandalize even a Boston audience. The wife of the President, a
lady of great personal beauty, was pointed out to us; and we were assured
that it was not improper to stare at her, even with glasses. In all
such places the audience always claims quite as much of my attention as
the stage; and among the boxes I noticed an elderly lady of decidedly
American appearance, and I fancied she might be the distinguished Madame
Susannah Peñol, to whom I had letters. A few days later, as I was ushered
into her reception-room, I saw at once that I was not mistaken; for on
the wall was a capital portrait of the lady I had seen.
[Illustration: Spanish Stirrup.]
Our hotel proved a most wretched one; the comida was poor in quality
and insufficient in quantity. A ballet-dancer and her pet dog took most
of the best bits as the various dishes were passed among the company.
Our host proved much the same sort as we had met at Quiché; and we were
compelled to move to the Gran Hotel, which we found very comfortable.
[Illustration: Terra-cotta Figurines.]
On Sunday the correct course is to see a cock-fight in the forenoon,
a bull-fight in the afternoon, and to go to church and wash up in the
evening. We varied the programme, and in the morning visited the Chief
of Police, Colonel Pratt (formerly of New York), from whom we learned
many points of interest in the municipal regulation of this city. The
Cemeterio, or Campo Santo, next claimed our attention, where we found
catacombs partly underground and lighted by a clerestory. Several very
showy monuments have been erected since the prohibition of burial within
the churches, though but few of them are in good taste. A far pleasanter
visit was to the “Bola de Oro” baths, near the Teatro Nacional, where we
had two good bath-rooms, with douche and plunge, all for four reals. The
water in the city is not good, and in the baths its turbid character was
disagreeable. The pressure on the mains is regulated by water-towers,
usually built into the house; and not being sufficient to supply a
douche, the water for this purpose has to be pumped into an elevated
cistern. From the bath we went to an exhibition of native products and
industries in the building of the Instituto Nacional. The exhibition
was a good one, and some of the products—as chocolate, rice, sugar, and
wax—were of exceedingly high quality. More interesting to me was the
Instituto itself. Originally a monastery, the Government confiscated
it when the religious orders were suppressed, and President Barrios
established in the vacant halls a college which would be creditable
to any country. We went through the recitation-rooms, the physical
laboratory, the dormitories,—where the iron bedsteads looked neat and
comfortable,—into the printing-room; thence through the garden to the
menagerie, where were many good specimens of native beasts and birds.
We next visited the meteorological observatory, the faculty room,
where hung a dismal painting of some poor Indios being torn to pieces
by dogs at the command of the Conquistadores, and finally the museum,
where, together with stuffed animals and birds, a series of specimens
of native woods (labelled only with native names), minerals, ores, and
the rest, we found a choice collection of antiquities. Here on the walls
were the dress-swords of Alvarado and Cortez, and strange stirrups,
of wrought iron of great size and weight, that the Conquistadores had
brought from Spain.[26] In the cases were grotesque incense-burners that
my friend E. Rockstroh had brought from the country of the Lacandones;
idols from various places, a lava mask from Copan (figured on page 200),
figurines in terra-cotta with tails and tigre-heads, stone figures with
turbans,—all on a subsequent morning made their impression on my plates.
But an incense-burner of red clay found in the Lago de Amatitlan failed
to excite the delicate film, so dark was the room and so refractory the
color; the form was most complicated, quite rivalling in this respect
those ancient Japanese bronzes used for the same purpose. In the library
are many valuable manuscripts, mostly unpublished, but of interest to the
historian and antiquarian.
Almost worn out with sight-seeing, we stopped at a restaurant near by,
and with our lunch had some native _cerveza negra_,—an unpleasant beer
brewed from molasses. We had lost the cock-fight; but there was to be
a bull-fight in the afternoon, to which we were strangely attracted,
and we purchased seats under the roof at three reals, walking over to
the Plaza de Toros at four o’clock. There was a fair audience—perhaps
six or seven thousand—in the immense circular building or enclosure. As
an overture we had an exhibition-drill. The soldiers wore red jackets,
blue trousers, and white caps and cross-belts. The evolutions were well
done to the bugle-notes, and the whole performance was to me much like
a ballet,—simply a complicated series of preconcerted movements of the
human body.
A horseman clad in black, mounted on a superb white horse, then rode
across the ring and formally asked leave of the Chief of the Corrida to
open the games. The Chief tossed him a roll of colored paper, which he
carried to the Amador del Toro and then backed gracefully out of the
enclosure. Then came the Espada, Manuel Aguilar of Seville, with three
Banderilleros and as many Picadores, followed by horses, mules, and
mozos. There were only five “bulls,” of which three were oxen,—and they
might all have been, for any fight they showed. The Picadores did their
work, and the Primero Espada did some excellent dodging; but this did
not satisfy us, so bloodthirsty had we become. At first we wanted to
have a horse killed, and at last nothing short of the death of a man
would satisfy us. But we were not to see anything of the kind; and after
the bulls had trotted about the Plaza until half-past five, the show
was over, and the unsatisfied audience dispersed. What would a Roman
audience have done in the Flavian amphitheatre, had their wild-beast
propensities been thus excited and disappointed? So far as the City of
Guatemala is concerned, the bull-fight is growing unfashionable, and
even with the populace such uninteresting shows cannot long attract. The
Guatemaltecans should import some of the fashionable “Cribb Clubs” of our
Northern cities, if they still wish to see human blood flow. At present
there is more brutality in the sparring exhibitions of Boston than in the
bull-fights of the Central American city.
Our day was not yet ended; and as we crossed the Plaza in the evening,
on returning from a call on a friend, we found the pavement crowded with
people and dotted with little fires, over which various Indios were
cooking doughnuts, fritters, and chocolate. The fritters were eaten with
plenty of honey, and were very palatable.
Another night we had an opportunity to see one of the religious
processions so common in former days,—afterwards prohibited by law, but
now occasionally allowed, as there is little danger of a renewal of the
priestly power, and these spectacles please the priests, women, and
children. This particular one, which we attended in part, was in honor
of “Nuestra Señora de Guadeloupe.” A huge doll, all lace and tinsel, was
carried through the streets with music, flowers, and fireworks. It was a
miracle that the image was not set on fire,—especially when the “toro,”
all blazing with squibs and Roman candles, ran through the crowd; but
no accident befell, so far as I knew. I am somewhat confused as to the
person the image represented, but was told that she was visiting the
holy lady (_santissima señora_) who lived in the church to which the
procession marched. On arriving at the door the visitor was obliged to
tip over and go in head first in a horizontal position. It was no doubt
all right, but it seemed so utterly undignified that we did not care to
go into the church and see how she got up again.
At the hippodrome in the plain of Yocotenango, to which the horse-cars
run from the grand Plaza, horse-races are held in May, August, and
November, at which times prizes are offered by the Government and the
Sociedad Zoótecnica.
It was interesting to see how the State had occupied the buildings of
the banished or suppressed communities. In the Franciscan convent was
the Revenue and Customs Bureau; the Post-Office occupied the church and
convent of the Third Order (of St. Francis); the Treasury and Telegraphs
divide the fine house formerly the home of the suppressed Sociedad
Económica; and the Bureau of Liquors and Tobacco holds the splendid
building of the Dominican friars. Other of the confiscated edifices are
used as schools, and are most admirably suited to the purpose. There
are eight elementary schools for boys, and ten for girls; two finishing
schools or academies for each sex; six night-schools for artisans and
others; and two asylums, which collect in the morning the young children
of poor parents, instruct and feed them, and return them at night to
their homes. There are two establishments for secondary instruction, one
for each sex, directed by foreign professors and well installed; one
is the Instituto Nacional, already mentioned. All these institutions
are supported by the Government, much of the system being due to the
enlightened policy of General Barrios. Provided for special instruction,
and also supported in the same way, are the Technical School (Escuela de
Artes y Oficios), well provided with laboratories and steam-power; the
Agricultural College, with fields near the city for practical work; a
Business School, with night sessions for clerks; a Law School, Medical
School (Medicina y Farmacia), Normal School, Polytechnic Institute, and
School of Design; besides many schools supported by private means.
Benevolent institutions, too, are not wanting,—among them the Asylum for
Orphans and Invalids; the Central Hospital, where four hundred patients
are cared for daily; and the Military Hospital in the suburbs. The
Penitentiary seems to be well conducted, and the House of Correction has
extensive workshops, in which good work is done. No less than twenty
public fountains and washing-places adorn and keep the city clean.
All business is not conducted in the shops, which are small, and seldom
make much display; but there are two markets, one of which, the Nacional,
is very extensive, and seems to contain within its bounds merchandise of
every sort,—in one place pottery, in another fruit; saddlery and cloths,
confectionery and hardware, bread and guns, are close at hand. The prices
are high, even of the necessaries of life; and the cheapest things were
pottery and nets, both of Indian manufacture. It was not a little amusing
to remember that the great retail stores of Boston were imitating the
variety-shops of this uncommercial city, and collecting within their
walls all kinds of goods,—from shoes to hats, from dinner-sets to
carpets, from stoves to books. The country variety-stores of New England
are outdone in both cases. As almost everywhere else, it is expected that
the purchaser will try to beat down the price. Among the curiosities of
the market we found native jackets (_guepiles_) made in the simplest
manner, but embroidered with the greatest labor and most barbaric fancy
of color and form. These the women take great pride in; and the showy
garments cloak many deficiencies in the rest of the wardrobe.
[Illustration: Indian Pottery.]