The lake of Nicaragua.
Ometepec.
Becalmed on the lake.
White egrets.
Reach San Ubaldo.
Ride across the plains.
Vegetation of the plains.
Armadillo.
Savannahs.
Jicara trees.
Jicara bowls.
Origin of gourd-shaped pottery.
Coyotes.
Mule-breeding.
Reach Acoyapo.
Festa.
Cross high range.
Esquipula.
The Rio Mico.
Supposed statues on its banks.
Pital.
Cultivation of maize.
Its use from the earliest times in America.
Separation of the maize-eating from the mandioca-eating
indigenes of America.
Tortillas.
Sugar-making.
Enter the forest of the Atlantic slope.
Vegetation of the forest.
Muddy roads.
Arrive at Santo Domingo.
As daylight broke next morning, I was up, anxious to see the great
lake about which I had heard so much. To the north-west a great
sheet of quiet water extended as far as the eye could reach, with
islands here and there, and--the central figure in every view of
the lake--the great conical peak of Ometepec towered up, 5050 feet
above the sea, and 4922 feet above the surface of the lake. To the
left, in the dim distance, were the cloud-capped mountains of Costa
Rica; to the right, nearer at hand, low hills and ranges covered
with dark forests. The lake is too large to be called beautiful,
and its vast extent and the mere glimpses of its limits and
cloud-capped peaks appeal to the imagination rather than to the
eye. At this end of the lake the water is shallow, probably filled
up by the mud brought down by the Rio Frio.
We had still a voyage of sixty miles before us up the lake, and
this was to be accomplished not by paddling, but by sailing; so we
now rigged two light masts, and soon after seven o'clock sailed
slowly away from San Carlos before a light breeze, which in an
hour's time freshened and carried us along at the rate of about six
miles an hour. The sun rose higher and higher; the day waxed hotter
and hotter. About noon the wind failed us again, and the sun right
overhead, in a clear pitiless sky, scorched us with its rays, while
our boat lay like a log upon the water, the pitch melting in the
seams with the heat. The surface of the lake was motionless, save
for a gentle heaving. We were almost broiled with the stifling
heat, but at last saw a ripple on the water come up from the
north-east; soon the breeze reached us, and our torment was over;
our sails, no more idly flapping, filled out before the wind; the
canoe dashed through the rising waves; our drooping spirits
revived, and there was an opening out of provisions, and life again
in the boat. The breeze continued all the afternoon, and at dark we
were off the islands of Nancital, having been all day within a few
miles of the north-eastern side of the lake, the banks of which are
everywhere clothed with dark gloomy-looking forests. One of the
islands was a favourite sleeping-place for the white egrets. From
all sides they were flying across the lake towards it; and as night
set in, the trees and bushes by the water-side were full of them,
gleaming like great white flowers amongst the dark green foliage.
Flocks of muscovy and whistling ducks also flew over to their
evening feeding-places. Great masses of a floating plant, shaped
like a cabbage, were abundant on the lake, and on these the white
egrets and other wading birds often alighted. The boatmen told
me--and the story is likely enough to be true--that the alligators,
floating about like logs, with their eyes above the water, watch
these birds, and, moving quietly up until within a few yards of
them, sink down below the surface, come up underneath them, catch
them by the legs and drag them under water. Besides the alligators,
large freshwater sharks appear to be common in the lake. Sometimes,
when in shallow water, we saw a pointed billow rapidly moving away
from the boat, produced by some large fish below, and I was told it
was a shark.
After dark the wind failed us again, and we got slowly along, but
finally reached our port, San Ubaldo, about ten o'clock, and found
an officer of the mining company, living in a small thatched hut,
stationed there to send on the machinery and other goods that
arrived for the mines. A large tiled store had also just been built
by the owner of the estate there, Don Gregorio Quadra, under the
verandah of which I hung my hammock for the night. Mules were
waiting at San Ubaldo for us, and early next morning we set off,
with our luggage on pack mules. We crossed some rocky low hills,
with scanty vegetation, and, after passing the cattle hacienda of
San Jose, reached the plains of the same name, about two leagues in
width, now dry and dusty, but in the wet season forming a great
slough of water and tenacious mud, through which the mules have to
wade and plunge.
In the midst of these plains there are some rocky knolls, like
islands, on which grow spiny cactuses, low leathery-leaved trees,
slender, spiny palms, with plum-like fruit, prickly acacias, and
thorny bromelias. This spiny character of vegetation seems to be
characteristic of dry rocky places and tracts of country liable to
great drought. Probably it is as a protection from herbivorous
animals, to prevent them browsing upon the twigs and small branches
where herbaceous vegetation is dried up. Small armadillos abound
near these rocky knolls, and are said to feed on ants and other
insects. We had a long chase after one, which we observed some
distance from the rock, over the cracked and dried-up plain: though
it could not run very fast, it doubled quickly, and the rough
cracked ground made odds in its favour; but it was ultimately
secured. Pigeons, brown coloured, of various sizes, from that of a
thrush to that of a common dove, were numerous and very tame. One
of the smallest species alights and seeks about in the streets of
small towns for seeds, like a sparrow, and more boldly than that
bird, for it is not molested by the children--more perhaps from
indolence than from any lack of the element of cruelty in their
dispositions. After crossing the plains we rode over undulating
hills, here called savannahs, with patches of forest on the rising
ground, and small plains on which grows the ternate-leaved jicara
(pronounced hickory), a tree about as large as an apple-tree, with
fruit of the size, shape, and appearance of a large green orange,
but growing on the trunk and branches, not amongst the leaves. The
outside of the fruit is a hard thin shell, packed full of seeds in
a kind of dry pulp, on which are fed fowls, and even horses and
cattle in the dry season; the latter are said sometimes to choke
themselves with the fruit, whilst trying to eat it. Of the bruised
seeds is also made a cooling drink, much used in Nicaragua. The
jicara trees grow apart at equal distances, as if planted by man.
The hard thin shell of the fruit, carved in various patterns on the
outside, is made into cups and drinking-vessels by the natives, who
also cultivate other species of jicara, with round fruit, as large
as a man's head, from which the larger drinking-bowls are made. In
the smaller jicaras chocolate is always made and served in Central
America, and, being rounded at the bottom, little stands are made
to set them in; these are sometimes shaped like egg-cups, sometimes
like toy washhand-stands. In making their earthenware vessels, the
Indians up to this day follow this natural form, and their
water-jars and bowls are made rounded at the bottom, requiring
stands to keep them upright.
The meals of Montezuma were served on thick cushions or pillows.
This was probably on account of the rounded bases of the bowls and
dishes used. The gourd forms of bowls possibly originated from the
clay being moulded over gourds which were burnt out in the baking
process. It is said that in the Southern States the kilns in which
the ancient pottery was baked have been found, and in some the
half-baked ware remained, retaining the rinds of the gourds over
which they had been moulded. Afterwards, when the potter learned to
make bowls without the aid of gourds, he still retained the shape
of his ancient pattern.
The name, too, like the form, has had a wonderful vitality. It is
the "xicalli" of the ancient Aztecs, changed to "jicara" by the
Spaniards, by which they mean a chocolate-cup; and even in Italy a
modification of the same word may be heard, a tea-cup being called
a chicchera.
On top of one of the hills we just got a glimpse of a small pack of
wolves, or coyotes, as they are called, from the Aztec coyotl. They
are smaller than the European wolf, and are cunning, like a fox,
but hunt in packs. They looked down at us from the ridge of the
hill for a few moments, then trotted off down the other side. Their
howlings may often be heard in the early morning.
Cattle, horses, and mules are bred on these plains. Male asses are
kept at some of the haciendas. They are not allowed to mix with any
of their own kind, and are well fed and in good condition; but they
are only of small size, and the breed of mules might be greatly
improved by the introduction of larger asses.
The vegetation on the plains was rapidly drying up. Many of the
trees shed their leaves in the dry season, just as they do with us
in autumn. The barrenness of the landscape is relieved in March by
several kinds of trees bursting into flower when they have shed
their leaves, and presenting great domes of brilliant colour--some
pink, others red, blue, yellow, or white, like single-coloured
bouquets. One looked like a gigantic rhododendron, with bunches of
large pink flowers. The yellow-flowered ones belong to wild
cotton-trees, from the pods of which the natives gather cotton to
stuff pillows, etc. About one o'clock we reached rather a large
river, and after crossing it came in sight of the town of Acoyapo,
one of the principal towns of the province of Chontales. we stayed
and had dinner with Senor Don Dolores Bermudez, a Nicaraguan
gentlemen who had been educated in the States, and spoke English
fluently. He very kindly took me over the town, and I always found
him ready to give me information respecting the antiquities and
natural products of the country. Acoyapo and the district around it
contains about two thousand inhabitants. The store-keepers,
lawyers, and hacienderos are of Spanish and mixed descent. Amongst
the lower classes there is much Indian and some negro blood; but
there are many pure Indians scattered through the district, living
near the rivers and brooks, and growing patches of maize and beans.
In the centre of the town is a large square or plaza, with a
stucco-fronted church occupying one side, and the principal stores
and houses ranging around the other three sides. A couple of
coco-palms grow in front of the church, but do not thrive like
those near the sea-coast. It was Saturday, the 22nd of February,
when we arrived; this was a great feast-day, or festa, at Acoyapo,
and the town was full of country people, who were amusing
themselves with horse-races, cock-fights, and drinking aguardiente.
Their mode of cock-fighting is very cruel, as the cocks are armed
with long sickle-shaped lancets, tied on to their natural spurs,
with which they give each other fearful gashes and wounds. All
classes of Nicaraguans are fond of this amusement; in nearly every
house a cock will be found, tied up in a corner by the leg, but
treated otherwise like one of the family. The priests are generally
great abettors of the practice, which forms the usual amusement of
the towns on Sunday afternoons. I have heard many stories of the
padres after service hurrying off to the cock-pit with a cock under
each arm. Bets are made on every fight, and much money is lost and
won over the sport.
Like most of the Nicaraguan towns, Acoyapo appears to have been an
Indian city before the Spanish conquest. The name is Indian, and in
the plaza Senor Bermudez pointed out to me some flat bared rock
surfaces, on which were engraved circles and various straight and
curved characters, covering the whole face of the rock. Some rude
portions of stone statues that have been found in the neighbourhood
are also preserved in the town. The Spaniards called the town San
Sebastian; but the more ancient name is likely to prevail,
notwithstanding that in all official documents the Spanish one is
used. Acoyapo is a grazing district, and there are some large
cattle haciendas, especially towards the lake. The town suffers
from fever owing to the neighbouring swamp. Much of the land around
is very fertile; but little of it is cultivated, as the people are
indolent, and content if they make a bare livelihood. We left
Acoyapo about three o'clock: our road lay up the river, which we
crossed three times. Excepting near the river, the country was very
thinly timbered; and it was pleasant, after riding across the open
plains, exposed to the hot rays of the sun, to reach the shady
banks of the stream, by which grew many high thick-foliaged trees,
with lianas hanging from them, and bromelias, orchids, ferns, and
many other epiphytes perched on their branches. At these spots,
too, were various beautiful birds, amongst which the Sisitote, a
fine black and orange songster, and a trogon (Trogon
malanocephalus, Gould), were the most conspicuous.
We reached and crossed a high range, from the summit of which we
had a splendid view over the plains and savannahs we had crossed,
to the great lake, with its islands and peaked hills, and beyond
the dark dim mountains of Costa Rica, amongst which dwell the
Indians of the Rio Frio and other little-known tribes. Before us
were spread out well-grassed savannahs, thinly timbered, excepting
where dark winding lines of trees or light green thickets of
bamboos marked the course of rivers or mountain brooks. Here and
there were dotted thatched huts, in which dwelt the owners of the
cattle, mules, and horses feeding on the meadows. Far in the
distance the view was bounded by a line of dark, nearly
black-looking forest, which, there commencing, extends unbroken to
the Atlantic. Near its edge, a seven-peaked range marked the
neighbourhood of Libertad--the beginning of the gold-mining
district. Descending the slope of the range, we found the savannahs
on its eastern side much more moist than those to the westward of
it; and as we proceeded, the humidity of the ground increased, and
the crossings of some of the valleys and swamps were difficult for
the mules. The dry season had set in, and these places were rapidly
drying up; but in many it had just reached that stage when the mud
was most tenacious; at one very bad crossing, called an "estero,"
my mule fell, with my leg underneath him, pinning me in the mud.
The poor beast was exhausted, and would not move. Night had set
in--it was quite dark, and I had lagged some distance behind my
companions: fortunately they heard my shouts, and, soon returning,
extricated me from my awkward predicament. Without further mishap
we reached Esquipula, a village inhabited mostly by half-breeds,
and slung our hammocks for the night in a small thatched house
belonging to the mining company, who kept many of their draught
bullocks at this place on account of the excellent pasture around.
The village of Esquipula is built near the river Mico, which,
rising in the forest-clad ranges to the eastward, runs for several
miles through the savannahs, then again enters the forest and flows
into the Atlantic at Blewfields, a broad and deep river. This river
must have had at one time a large Indian population dwelling in
settled towns near its banks. Their burial places, marked with
great heaps of stones, are frequent, and pieces of pottery, broken
stone statues, and pedestals are often met with. Near Esquipula
there are some artificial-looking mounds, with great stones set
around them; in fact, this and another village, a few miles to the
south, called San Tomas, are, I believe, both built on the sites of
old Indian towns. The Indians of the Rio Mico gave the Spaniards
some trouble on their first settlement of the country. About two
leagues from Acoyapo, the site of a small town was pointed out to
me, now covered with low trees and brushwood. Here the Spaniards
were attacked in the night-time by the Rio Mico Indians, and all of
them killed, excepting the young women, who were carried off into
captivity, and the place has ever since lain desolate.
Many extravagant stories have been told of the great statues that
are said to have been seen on the banks of the Mico, much lower
down the river than where we crossed it; but M. Etienne, of
Libertad, who descended it to Blewfields, and some Ulleros of San
Tomas, who had frequently been down it after india-rubber, assured
me that the reported statues were merely rude carvings of faces and
animals on the rocks. They appear to be similar to what are found
on many rivers running into the Caribbean Sea, and to those which
were examined by Schomburgk on the rocks of the Orinoco and
Essequibo. As others like them, of undoubted Carib workmanship,
have been found in the Virgin Islands, it is possible that they are
all the work of that once-powerful race, and not of the settled
agricultural and statue-making Indians of the western part of the
continent.
We started from Esquipula early next morning, and crossed low
thinly-timbered hills and savannahs to Pital, a scattered
settlement of many small thatched houses, close to the borders of
the great forest; on the edge of which were clearings, made for
growing maize, which is cultivated entirely on burnt forest land.
At some parts they had already commenced cutting down trees for
fresh clearings; these would be burnt in April, and the maize sown
the following month, in the usual primitive way, just as it was in
Mexico before and at the Spanish conquest. In commencing a
clearing, the brushwood is first cut close to the ground, as it
would be difficult to do so after the large trees are felled. The
big timber is then cut down, and in April it is set fire to. All
the small wood and leaves burn well; but most of the large trunks
are left, and many of the branches. Most of the latter are cut up
to form a fence round the clearing, this at Pital and Esquipula
being made very close and high to keep out deer. In May, the maize
is sown; the sower makes little holes with a pointed stick, a few
feet apart, into each of which he drops two or three grains, and
covers them with his foot. In a few days the green leaves shoot up,
and grow very quickly. Numerous wild plants also spring up, and in
June these are weeded out; the success of the crop greatly
depending upon the thoroughness with which this is done. In July
each plant has produced two or three ears; and before the grain is
set these are pulled off, excepting one, as if more are left they
do not mature well. The young ears are boiled whole, and make a
tender and much-esteemed vegetable. They are called at this stage
"chilote," from the Aztec xilotl; and the ancient Mexicans in their
eighth month, which began on the 16th July, made a great festival,
called the feast of Xilonen. The poor Indians now have often reason
to rejoice when this stage is reached, as their stores of corn are
generally exhausted before then, and the "chilote" is the first
fruits of the new crop. In the beginning of August the grains are
fully formed, though still tender and white; and it is eaten as
green corn, now called "elote." In September the maize is ripe, and
is gathered when dry, and stowed away, generally over the rooms of
the natives. A second crop is often sown in December.
Maize is very prolific, bearing a hundredfold, and ripening in
April. From the most ancient times, maize has been the principal
food of the inhabitants of the western side of tropical America. On
the coast of Peru, Darwin found heads of it,* along with eighteen
species of marine shells, in a raised beach eighty-five feet above
the level of the sea (* "Geological Observations in South America"
1846 page 49 and "Animals and Plants under Domestication" volume 1
page 320.); and in the same country it has been found in tombs
apparently more ancient than the earliest times of the Incas.*
(*Von Tschudi "Travels in Peru" English edition page 177.) In
Mexico it was known from the earliest times of which we have any
record, in the picture writings of the Toltecs; and that ancient
people carried it with them in all their wanderings. In Central
America the stone grinders, with which they bruised it down, are
almost invariably found in the ancient graves, having been buried
with the ashes of the dead, as an indispensable article for their
outfit for another world. When Florida and Louisiana were first
discovered, the native Indian tribes all cultivated maize as their
staple food; and throughout Yucatan, Mexico, and all the western
side of Central America, and through Peru to Chili, it was, and
still is, the main sustenance of the Indians. The people that
cultivated it were all more or less advanced in civilisation; they
were settled in towns; their traders travelled from one country to
another with their wares; they were of a docile and tractable
disposition, easily frightened into submission. It is likely that
these maize-eating peoples belonged to closely affiliated races. In
the West India Islands they occupied most of Cuba and Hayti; but
from Porto Rico southwards the islands were peopled by the warlike
Caribs, who harassed the more civilised tribes to the north. From
Cape Gracias a Dios southward, the eastern coast of America was
peopled on its first discovery by much ruder tribes, who did not
grow maize, but made bread from the roots of the mandioca (Manihot
aipim); and still in British Guiana, on the Lower Amazon, and in
north-eastern Brazil, farina made from the roots of the mandioca is
the staple food. Maize has been introduced by the Portuguese, but
it has no native name, and is used mostly for feeding cattle and
fowls, scarcely at all for the food of the people. This fundamental
difference in the food of the indigenes points to a great
distinction between the peoples to which I shall have in the sequel
to revert. In the West India Islands, Cuba and Hayti seem to have
been peopled from Yucatan, and Florida, Porto Rico, and all the
islands to the southwards, from Venezuela.
In Central America, the bread made from the maize is prepared at
the present day exactly as it was in ancient Mexico. The grain is
first of all boiled along with wood ashes or a little lime; the
alkali loosens the outer skin of the grain, and this is rubbed off
with the hands in running water, a little of it at a time, placed
upon a slightly concave stone, called a metlate, from the Aztec
metlatl, on which it is rubbed with another stone shaped like a
rolling-pin. A little water is thrown on it as it is bruised, and
it is thus formed into paste. A ball of the paste is taken and
flattened out between the hands into a cake about ten inches
diameter and three-sixteenths of an inch thick, which is baked on a
slightly concave earthenware pan. The cakes so made are called
tortillas, and are very nutritious. When travelling, I preferred
them myself to bread made from wheaten flour. When well made and
eaten warm, they are very palatable.
There are a few small sugar plantations near Pital. The juice is
pressed out of the canes by rude wooden rollers set upright in
threes, the centre one driving the one on each side of it by
projecting cogs. The whole are set in motion by oxen travelling
round the same as in a thrashing-mill. The ungreased axles of the
rollers, squeaking and screeching like a score of tormented pigs,
generally inform the traveller of their vicinity long before he
reaches them. The juice is boiled, and an impure sugar made from
it. I do not think that the sugar-cane was known to the ancient
inhabitants of the country: it is not mentioned by the historians
of the conquest of Mexico and Peru, nor has it, like maize and
cacao, any native name.
As soon as we passed Pital we entered the great forest, the black
margin of which we had seen for many miles, that extends from this
point to the Atlantic. At first the road lay through small trees
and brushwood, a second growth that had sprung up where the
original forest had been cut for maize plantations; but after
passing a brook bordered by numerous plants of the pita, from which
a fine fibre is obtained, and which gives its name to Pital, we
entered the primeval forest. On each side of the road great trees
towered up, carrying their crowns out of sight amongst a canopy of
foliage; lianas wound round every trunk and hung from every bough,
passing from tree to tree, and entangling the giants in a great
network of coiling cables, as the serpents did Laocoon; the simile
being strengthened by the fact that many of the trees are really
strangled in the winding folds. Sometimes a tree appears covered
with beautiful flowers, which do not belong to it, but to one of
the lianas that twines through its branches and sends down great
rope-like stems to the ground. Climbing ferns and vanilla cling to
the trunks, and a thousand epiphytes perch themselves on the
branches. Amongst these are large arums that send down aerial
roots, tough and strong, and universally used instead of cordage by
the natives. Amongst the undergrowth several small species of
palms, varying in height from two to fifteen feet, are common; and
now and then magnificent tree ferns, sending off their feathery
crowns twenty feet from the ground, delight the sight with their
graceful elegance. Great broad-leaved heliconiae, leathery
melastomae, and succulent-stemmed, lop-sided-leaved begonias are
abundant, and typical of tropical American forests. Not less so are
the cecropia trees, with their white stems and large palmated
leaves standing up like great candelabra. Sometimes the ground is
carpeted with large flowers, yellow, pink, or white, that have
fallen from some invisible tree-top above, or the air is filled
with a delicious perfume, for the source of which one seeks around
in vain, as the flowers that cause it are far overhead out of
sight, lost in the great overshadowing crown of verdure. Numerous
babbling brooks intersect the forest, with moss-covered stones and
fern-clad nooks. One's thoughts are led away to the green dells in
English denes, but are soon recalled; for the sparkling pools are
the favourite haunts of the fairy humming-birds, and like an arrow
one will dart up the brook, and, poised on wings moving with almost
invisible velocity, clothed in purple, golden, or emerald glory,
hang suspended in the air; gazing with startled look at the
intruder, with a sudden jerk, turning round first one eye, then the
other, and suddenly disappear like a flash of light.
Unlike the plains and savannahs we crossed yesterday, where the
ground is parched up in the dry season, the Atlantic forest, bathed
in the rains distilled from the north-east trades, is ever verdant.
Perennial moisture reigns in the soil, perennial summer in the air,
and vegetation luxuriates in ceaseless activity and verdure, all
the year round. Unknown are the autumn tints, the bright browns and
yellows of English woods, much less the crimsons, purples, and
yellows of Canada, where the dying foliage rivals, nay, excels the
expiring dolphin in splendour. Unknown the cold sleep of winter;
unknown the lovely awakening of vegetation at the first gentle
touch of spring. A ceaseless round of ever-active life weaves the
forest scenery of the tropics into one monotonous whole, of which
the component parts exhibit in detail untold variety and beauty.
To the genial influence of ever-present moisture and heat we must
ascribe the infinite variety of the trees of these forests. They do
not grow in clusters or masses of single species, like our oaks,
beeches, and firs, but every tree is different from its neighbour,
and they crowd upon each other in unsocial rivalry, each trying to
overtop the other. For this reason we see the great straight trunks
rising a hundred feet without a branch, and carrying their domes of
foliage directly up to where the balmy breezes blow and the sun's
rays quicken. Lianas hurry up to the light and sunshine, and
innumerable epiphytes perch themselves high up on the branches.
The road through the forest was very bad, the mud deep and
tenacious, the hills steep and slippery, and the mules had to
struggle and plunge along through from two to three feet of sticky
clay. One part, named the Nispral, was especially steep and
difficult to descend, the road being worn into great ruts. We
crossed the ranges and brooks nearly at right angles, and were
always ascending or descending. About two we reached a clearing and
hacienda, belonging to an enterprising German, named Melzer, near a
brook called Las Lajas, who was cultivating plantains and
vegetables, and had also commenced brick and tile making, besides
planting some thousands of coffee trees. His large clearings were a
pleasant change from the forest through which we had been toiling,
and we stayed a few minutes at his house. After riding over another
league of forest-covered ranges, we reached Pavon, one of the mines
of the Chontales Company, and passing the Javali mine soon arrived
at Santo Domingo, the headquarters of the gold-mining company whose
operations I had come out to superintend.