COPAN TO QUIRIGUA.
Towards the middle of March the heat at noonday became excessive and
the weather looked threatening. It was early for rain, but ominous
thunderclouds had hovered about for several days, and finally, after an
oppressively hot morning and afternoon, the storm burst.
We had just finished our dinner when the rain began to fall. With all
speed the men dug a trench round the tent, and drove the tent-pegs
deeper into the ground, whilst we hastened to cover our possessions in
the house, the roof of which leaked like a cullender, with waterproof
sheets and every available macintosh and umbrella. When this was done
we took refuge in the tent. It was none too soon, for the floodgates of
heaven were opened on us, and the rain came down in a perfect deluge.
I had grave doubts whether such a frail shelter as a canvas tent would
protect us from the downpour, or resist each wild gust of wind as it
swept howling and wailing through the trees, threatening destruction
to everything in its path. However, the tent held out splendidly, and
after an hour of wild rush and fury, with vivid flashes and mighty
crashes of thunder, the tempest passed, and left us in the serenity of
a still and moonlit night.
We had made our arrangements to leave for Quirigua about the 21st
March, forgetting that that day fell in Holy week, when no Indian will
work, so Easter Sunday found us still at Copan awaiting the pleasure of
our cargadores. The day broke clear and lovely, but excessively hot,
and before night a second thunder-storm, of much greater violence than
the first, overtook us in the midst of our preparations for departure.
This time it was no ordinary passing thunder-shower, but a complete
break up of the weather; and later on we learned that during this week
a fierce "Norther" had raged in the Gulf of Mexico, and that cutting
frosts and heavy snow-storms had destroyed the crops all along the
coasts of Texas and Mexico. The sudden fall in the temperature was
so severe that we were glad to put on our warmest garments, and the
thinly-clad Copaneros fell ill with chills and fevers.
On Tuesday we bade good-bye to the ruins, and started on our journey
to Quirigua in a downpour of rain. It was a melancholy leave-taking,
but I was less reluctant to go than I should have been had the weather
shown the brilliant laughing mood which had so long entranced me. The
village and its inhabitants were in a pitiable condition of wet and
mud, and as we rode past the houses, shivering figures with pinched
faces came to the doors to bid us farewell, and on all sides we heard
complaints and groans at such unusual weather. It was indeed cold and
thoroughly uncomfortable, and Gorgonio alone of all the party kept
up his spirits, and assured me that the rain was "mucho mayor que el
sol"! My taste favours sunshine and dry clothes, but perhaps, after
all, we were lucky in accomplishing the five days' journey under a
cloudy sky instead of the grilling rays of a March sun. We were able
to travel only five leagues during the first day, for the greater
part of that distance retracing our steps on the Zacapa road, and at
night pitching our tent in a great pine wood. The rain fell heavily
all night long, and the next morning we made slow progress up and down
hills by an execrable track that seemed even to tax the patience of
the mules. By noon we arrived at a dirty ill-kept rancho, deserted by
the responsible members of the family, and left in charge of three
small children, who had locked themselves into the house and were not
to be tempted out. We found a seat on a big log in the farm-yard,
where the animals looked neglected and half-starved, and we ate our
breakfast in the company of a "chumpipe," better known as a turkey and
her brood, the friendliest little family imaginable, which clamoured
for our food, and ate indiscriminately ginger-bread nuts and oil from
the sardine-box, and drank all the coffee we could spare them. The
rain now fell only in occasional showers, and during the afternoon the
track improved, although it was still too rough to be pleasant, and we
were not sorry to find at the end of the day's journey a well-built
house at the rancho of La Ceniza. Our hostess told us, with no little
pride, that we could have a room to ourselves; it proved, however, to
be a passage-room, but the members of the family passed so stealthily
through it on their way to bed, and were so thoughtful not to disturb
us in the morning, when they again passed through before we were up,
that we were hardly conscious of their presence.
At the time of our arrival the whole household was in a state of
excitement over a shooting affray which had taken place just outside
the enclosure, and which accounted for the unusual appearance of a
man we had met on the road, whose torn and blood-stained garments had
attracted our attention. The victim of the affray lay in the room
next to us, groaning from the pain of a bullet-wound, and we learnt
through Gorgonio that the unfortunate sufferer was ordered to appear
before a neighbouring judge that same night. This seemed to be such an
inhuman act that we ventured to remonstrate, and to suggest that if the
case were so urgent the magistrate might come to the suffering man's
bedside; but although there was a general murmur of approval, no one
ventured to disobey the order which had been received, and the groaning
creature was dragged from his bed and forced to walk off to the judge.
[Illustration: QUIRIGUA. STELA D NORTH FACE.]
The next day we followed a rough path winding up the face of a bare
hill, and from the summit gained a view over a fertile valley in front
of us, and a distant glint of the white houses of the village where
we were to halt for breakfast. The morning had been pleasant, with
fitful gleams of sunshine and soft cloud-shadows sweeping over the
landscape. A pleasant path through a wood lay before us to the village,
but before we could enjoy its sylvan charms a drenching shower overtook
us, and sent us in a thoroughly bedraggled condition to the shelter
of the nearest house. Later in the afternoon we rode on through a
park-like country with fine trees to the village of Iguana, where a
glance at the "posada" showed it to be unendurable even for one night,
and, preferring damp to dirt, we pitched our tent on the grass by the
roadside. A ride of three leagues through The rain brought us by noon
the next day to the village of Barbasco, which straggles along the bank
of the Rio Motagua. The water's edge was fringed with washerwomen, who
plied their trade with great energy and small regard for the fabrics
they were hammering and beating out with sticks and stones. We were
ferried across the river with our luggage in a huge dug-out canoe, as
the river was too deep to ford, and the mules were driven into the
water to swim after us.
The weather showing signs of improvement, we determined to push on to
the rancho of Quirigua, where we were sure of comfortable quarters
and hoped to find our letters awaiting us. At the little village of
Palmilla we came upon the first signs of the railway in course of
construction from Puerto Barrios, on the Atlantic seaboard, to the
capital, destined no doubt soon to absorb all the traffic of the old
and much-used track connecting the capital with the ancient port of
Yzabal on the Golfo Dulce, along which we were travelling. As the track
wound upwards over the pine-clad hillside, we caught beautiful views
across the valley to the Sierra de las Minas, whose lofty sides are
richly clothed with extensive forests, which have as yet escaped the
machetes of the natives and the axes of the foreign coffee-planter.
These forests are still the home of the howling monkeys (_Mycetes
villosus_)--"Monos," as they are here called; and the sound of their
melancholy cries reached us across the valley like the rhythmic roar of
surf beating on a distant shore.
On reaching the summit of the hills we had been ascending, a still
more striking landscape lay spread out before us, for the great
forest-covered plain stretched to the N.E., through which the Motagua
winds its way to the sea. The misty outlines of the hills on the far
side of the river closed the picture on the right, whilst on the left
the bold outlines of the Sierra de las Minas, ending in name only at
the hardly distinguishable gap through which the road passes to Yzabal,
run on under the name of the Sierra del Mico, until their beautiful
overlapping slopes are lost to sight where they sink in mist towards
the sea. A short ride brought us to Quirigua, which a few years ago was
the site of a village of twenty or thirty houses, but now contains only
the comfortable homestead of the cattle rancho belonging to Don Carlos
Herrera. The ruins of Quirigua, about six miles distant, are included
within the limits of the estate, which since the time of our visit has
passed into the hands of President Barrios, and it is to be sincerely
hoped that he will take measures to guard the monuments against
depredations likely to occur by occasion of their proximity to the new
railway.
Next morning we set out for the ruins. Riding first through a grove of
pine-trees, and then gradually descending to the plain, we followed
a narrow track into an almost impenetrable forest of coroza palms,
mahogany and cedar trees, and all that marvellous tangle of creepers
and climbing plants which go to make up that great wonder of nature--a
tropical forest. After about an hour's ride through the forest, we
crossed the line of the new railway, which was as yet innocent of
rails, and half an hour later we emerged on the bank of the Motagua,
about a mile distant from the ruins, and were welcomed to our new
camping-ground by Mr. Hugh Price, my husband's companion and assistant
in an expedition to Palenque in 1891.
The great river had shrunk to its summer limits, and had left bare long
stretches of sand strewn with the leavings of former floods, reminding
one of the dumping ground of some great city, and no more picturesque
than such a receptacle of rubbish. A little settlement of half a dozen
houses had lately been formed on the river-bank, and a hundred yards
beyond it Mr. Price, who had arrived a fortnight earlier, had built a
rancho for us at the cost of about £2 sterling. With our tent pitched
beside it for use as a bedroom we were well accommodated; but the
situation was not a pleasant one. The herds of cattle roaming through
the forest would draw down of an evening towards the river-bank, when
rival bulls made night hideous with their bellowings, and we were
forced to get up again and again to ward off attacks on the rather
frail fence which protected our homestead, and to drive off those
animals who came stumbling among the tent ropes and threatened to
bring the canvas down on our heads. The poor beasts meant no harm to
us, but they were searching wildly for something salt, and they would
return again and again to lick and scrape the earth on the spot where
we had thrown the small ration of salt which we daily gave to our
mules. Woe to the man who left his garments overnight hanging on the
fence to dry; nothing would be left of them in the morning but a chewed
unrecognizable mass.
Unattractive as were our surroundings, it was no doubt preferable
living near the river-bank, where the breeze could reach us and the
water-supply was ample, to camping at the ruins, where the water was
not fit to drink, the heat was stifling, and myriads of mosquitoes,
flies, and minute bees were irritating beyond measure; but as I never
would go through the forest alone, the mile of rough track between the
rancho where I had the housekeeping and cooking to attend to, and the
ruins where my husband was at work, caused me to spend most of my days
in solitude.
[Illustration: QUIRIGUA. STELA F.]
The climate at Quirigua in April is, I am told, usually clear and
dry, but we had chanced on one of those exceptional seasons which
it seems to be the usual fate of travellers to meet in all parts of
the world, and the inevitable heat was made the more disagreeable by
sudden deluges of rain, which, falling on the sun-baked sands, turned
the air into a great vapour-bath. Two or three times, however, during
our stay, a strong breeze of an evening was followed by a bright and
lovely day; then I hurried through my housekeeping with all possible
speed, and rode off to spend the day at the ruins. On such a day the
forest was beautiful and interesting beyond description, and seemed
to be laid under a spell of enchantment. Nothing could exceed the
wondrous beauty of the sinuous motion of coroza palms as the breeze
gently stirred their splendid leaves and waved them lazily together in
a lingering embrace. The forest resounded with the calls of birds, the
gurgling note of the oropendula, the cries of parrots, and the screams
of brilliant macaws, to which the hoarse roar of the monos, hidden in
the highest tree-tops, formed a monotonous accompaniment. The perfumed
breeze shook down flowers from invisible tree-tops and showered them
in the path, and the sun's rays, forcing their way through every
break in the almost impenetrable canopy of vegetation, danced merrily
through the forest. What a marvellous place it was! What a fearful
restless struggle for existence was going on in the vegetable world
before one's very eyes! Everything was fighting its way upward towards
the air and sunlight; straight, slim, branchless stems shot up to an
incredible height and buried their heads in the canopy above, giving
one no chance of distinguishing the shape of the leaves they bore.
Numberless creepers and climbers used these shafts as supports on their
way upward, their flexible stems being turned around them and hanging
in great cable-like loops from the distant branches. One after another
the great trees, even the forest giants with monster boles and huge
buttress-shaped roots, seem to fall a prey to the insidious attacks of
parasites, and what at first sight appeared to be the shaft of a mighty
forest-tree, would sometimes prove to be only the interlacing stems of
the Matapalo, a parasitic fig, which still held the dead and rotting
trunk of some monarch of the grove within its embrace. The parasite had
conquered in the struggle, but its triumph would not last long; the
gale which would have failed to bend its victim's stem will send the
hollow impostor crashing to the ground, and a hundred rivals will fight
for its share of the sunlight.
I must own that it was a very great disappointment to me never once
to catch sight of a monkey; their cry was often to be heard in the
surrounding forest, and they were especially noisy about sunset; but
they have become shy of the neighbourhood of clearings, and I could
not bear the heat and toil of a scramble through the thick and thorny
undergrowth to reach a spot from which they could be seen. However,
one's eyes never failed to find animals and insects well worth the
watching, and, amongst them all, the parasol-ants were perhaps the
most fascinating, as they passed along their well-worn tracks, each
with a piece of green leaf or coloured flower about the size of a
threepenny-bit held over its head. I had read Mr. Belt's interesting
description of their habits, and had learned how the leaves they so
carefully cut from the trees are stored in subterranean galleries and
used to form a sort of mushroom bed on which to grow the fungus which
forms their principal food. We traced one of their pathways for some
distance through the undergrowth until we reached their nest, a low
mound three or four yards across, formed of the earth which had been
thrown out when digging the galleries beneath, and a few blows on the
ground with a stick soon brought out the fierce-looking hall-porters
who guard the mouth of the burrows. My husband had on one occasion to
place his camera on the top of one of these nests, as the only place
from which a certain view could be taken. Going about his work as
quietly as possible, he managed to get the focus adjusted before his
presence was discovered, but whilst he was putting in the slide the
ants swarmed up over him. He jumped away as soon as the plate had been
exposed, and managed to brush them off his neck and hands, but fifty or
sixty of the ants had fixed their strong nippers into the flannel of
his shirt and trousers and refused to be shaken from their hold, and
when he attempted to pull them off, the small body always came away
between his thumb and finger, leaving the big head and nippers still
fast to the flannel.
* * * * *
NOTE (by A. P. M.).--This was my fourth visit to the ruins of Quirigua.
It was here that in 1881 I first made acquaintance with American
antiquities. A native from the village guided me to the site of the
ruins, but the undergrowth was so dense that we had some difficulty
in finding any of the monuments, and even when within touch of them,
so thickly were they covered with creepers, ferns, and moss, that
it was not easy to distinguish them from dead tree-trunks. When the
creepers and larger plants had been cleared off, the thick growth of
moss still obscured the carving, and as we had come totally unprepared
to meet this difficulty, some time was occupied in improvising
scrubbing-brushes from bundles of the wiry midribs of palm-leaves.
The final scrubbing was done with an ivory-backed hair-brush out of my
dressing-bag; and I well remember the fire of chaff I was subjected to
on my return home, when the wreck of that hair-brush was pounced upon
by an old servant, who wanted to know "what Mr. Alfred could have been
doing with his hair whilst he was in foreign parts!"
We slept only one night in the forest, and I cannot give a better
instance of the denseness of the vegetation than by saying that I
cleared a space for my camp cot on the south side of the monument
marked A in the plan; yet it was only by chance that late in the
following afternoon I became aware of the existence of the splendid
Altar (marked B) within twelve yards of my sleeping-place. It was the
unexpected magnificence of the monuments which that day came into
view that led me to devote so many years to securing copies of them,
which, preserved in the museums of Europe and America, are likely to
survive the originals. In 1882 I spent a fortnight amongst the ruins
and cleared enough of the forest to enable me to take a good set of
photographs of the monuments, and returned again in 1883, accompanied
by Mr. Giuntini, Mr. Charles Blockley, and the Lopez brothers, more
thoroughly equipped for the work of exploration, and remained camped
in the ruins for over three months. The following extract from a paper
read before the Royal Geographical Society gives an account of the
expedition:--
The ruins, which are completely hidden in a thick tropical forest,
stand about three-quarters of a mile from the left bank of the
river Motagua, and about five miles from the miserable little
village of Quirigua, from which they take their name. They consist
of numerous square or oblong mounds and terraces, varying from
six to forty feet in height, some standing by themselves, others
clustered in irregular groups. Most of these mounds were faced with
worked stone, and were ascended by flights of stone steps.
The interest centres in the thirteen large carved monoliths
which are arranged irregularly round what were probably the most
important plazas. Six of these monuments are tall stones measuring
three to five feet square, and standing 14 to 20 feet out of the
ground; the other five are oblong or rounded blocks of stone
shaped so as to represent huge turtles or armadilloes or some such
animals. All these monuments are covered with elaborate carving;
usually on both back and front of the tall monoliths there is
carved a huge human figure standing full-face, and in a stiff and
conventional attitude. The sides of the monuments are covered with
tables of hieroglyphs, most of them in fairly good preservation. In
addition to these tables of hieroglyphs there are series of squares
or cartouches of what appears to be actual picture-writing, each
division measuring about 18 inches square, and containing usually
two or three grotesque figures of men and animals. The design of
these picture-writings shows considerable variety and freedom of
treatment as compared with that of the large-sized human figures,
in the execution of which the artist seems to have been bound by
conventional rules.
The largest of the stone animals is perhaps the most remarkable
of all the monuments; its measurement is roughly a cube of eight
feet, it must weigh nearly twenty tons, and it rests on three
large slabs of stone. It is shaped like a turtle, and is covered
with the most elaborate and curious ornament, and with tables
of hieroglyphics and cartouches of picture-writing. The greater
part of the ornament throughout these carvings is formed from
the grotesque representations of the human face or the faces of
animals, the features frequently so greatly exaggerated that it is
most difficult to recognize them, but a careful examination enables
one almost invariably to trace back to this facial origin what, at
first sight, appears to be merely conventional scrollwork. Forms
derived from leaves or flowers are altogether absent; occasional
use is made of a plaited ribbon, and a very free use of plumes of
feathers, which are often most gracefully arranged and beautifully
carved. The fifteen monuments are divided into two groups; in
one the figures are all those of men, in the other of women[1].
It might be rash to argue from this, that women had attained a
high place in the social arrangement of the people who raised
these monuments; but there is one other feature that certainly
may be admitted as showing an advanced and peaceful condition of
existence, and that is the entire absence of any representation of
weapons of war.
The work of examining and copying the carvings at Quirigua was one
of no small difficulty; it was necessary, after clearing away the
thick undergrowth, to fell the forest trees, and after an interval
of about ten days, to run fire through the clearing.
The earth round the monuments had to be cleared away usually to
the depth of two or three feet, as, probably owing to floods from
the river, the level of the ground had considerably altered since
they were originally placed in position; a scaffold had then to be
built round each monument and the carving subjected to a careful
and thorough cleaning. This cleaning proved to be the most tedious
part of the work, as the stone was always covered with thick and
adhesive growths of moss and lichen. Two of the animal-shaped
monoliths were almost completely buried under huge forest trees,
which had grown exactly on the top of them, and it was only by a
chance notice of some carved stone appearing between the roots that
I became aware of their existence. I had one of these trees felled,
but found the stones so much crushed and destroyed by the pressure
of the roots that nothing remained worth moulding.
All provisions and all materials for the work, including such
things as photographic dry-plates, moulding-paper, lime, oil, and
nearly four tons of plaster, had to be carried in small quantities,
sometimes on mules, but more usually on men's backs, from the port
of Yzabal, about 24 miles distant, over a range of hills, along a
track which proved almost impassable in bad weather.
We commenced work early in February, which is usually the beginning
of the dry season, but unluckily during that whole month the rains
continued and work was carried on under the greatest difficulties;
excavations were filled with water as soon as made, and no moulding
could be done unless a water-tight roof was first built over
the monument which was to be worked at. At one time the floods
covered all but a few feet round the knoll on which we had built
our palm-leaf shanty, everything in the camp turned green with
mould and mildew, and snakes and scorpions were very troublesome,
and mosquitoes were innumerable. Worse than all, the sick list
increased, until at last twelve Indians were ill with fever on the
same day, and the sound ones all ran away home. After a long and
tedious search I was able to engage other labourers, and from that
time matters began to mend; the Indian labourers suffering from
fever recovered, and the weather became so hot and dry, that
we were able to work on steadily until the first week in May. By
that time I had secured a complete set of photographs of each of
the monuments; Mr. Giuntini had finished a plaster mould of the
great turtle--a mould of over six hundred pieces--and he had also
moulded the most interesting portions of two other monuments. In
addition to this, with the aid of my half-caste companions I had
taken a mould in paper of one entire monument, and of every table
of hieroglyphics and picture-writing which could be found, and Mr.
Blockley had made a careful survey of the site of the ruins. The
work of packing and transporting the moulds to the port was one
of even greater difficulty than bringing the material, for there
were over a thousand pieces of plaster moulding of all shapes and
sizes with delicate points and edges which had to be protected from
the slightest jar, and large paper moulds, some of which measured
nearly five feet square. The last loads were not over the mountains
when the rains commenced again with tremendous thunderstorms, and
the mountain tracks were again an alternation of mud-holes and
watercourses. A few of the paper moulds were damaged by damp on the
passage home, but, on the whole, the result of the expedition has
been very satisfactory.
[Illustration: QUIRIGUA, THE GREAT TURTLE.]
Since 1883 one other fallen monument has been discovered, and we
have learnt that the stone-faced mounds are the foundations of
temples similar to those at Copan, but much more completely ruined.
It was mainly with the purpose of more thoroughly examining these
foundation-mounds and correcting the survey that we revisited the
ruins in 1894. During our short stay we took a number of moulds and
had finished all the clearing and made the necessary preparations for
the survey, which Mr. Price was to carry out after our departure.
But, alas! a very few days after we left the ruins both Mr. Price and
Gorgonio were prostrated by a very bad type of fever, and it was with
much difficulty that they succeeded in reaching Yzabal, where, owing to
the kind attention they received from Mr. and Mrs. Potts, to whom many
a traveller owes a debt of gratitude, they recovered sufficiently to
start, Gorgonio for his home at Coban, and Mr. Price for England.
The survey was necessarily left unfinished, and the plan here given is
taken from Mr. Blockley's survey, amended as far as possible from Mr.
Price's notes. As both Mr. Price and Gorgonio were too ill to attend
to the packing of the moulds, that work was perforce left to the local
carpenter at Yzabal, with the result that more than half the moulds
were found to be in a hopelessly ruined condition, when, after some
unexplained delay, they arrived six months later in England. I spent
an unhappy day at the Museum opening the packing-cases and rescuing
the less-injured moulds from the evil-smelling mass of mildewed paper,
and returned home only to be sent to bed for what the doctor first of
all called an attack of influenza, but on the next day declared to be
undoubtedly malarial fever, whether caught from germs conveyed from the
tropics in the rotting paper, who shall say?