A Nicaraguan criminal.
Geology between Ocotal and Totagalpa.
Preparations at Totagalpa for their annual festival.
Chicha-drinking.
Piety of the Indians.
Ancient civilisation of tropical America.
Palacaguina.
Hospitality of the Mestizos.
Curious custom at the festival at Condego.
Cross range between Segovia and Matagalpa.
Sontuli.
Birds' nests.
WE got back to Ocotal, from Depilto, before dark, and made
arrangements for setting out on our return to the mines the next
morning. Whilst sitting under the corridor, looking across the
pretty flower-garden at the glowing western sky, illumined by the
last rays of the setting sun, a poor fettered criminal, holding up
by means of a string the thick chain that bound together his
ankles, came limping along, with a soldier behind him armed with
gun and bayonet. He had been brought out of prison to beg. In most
of the towns of Nicaragua no food is given to the prisoners,
whether convicted or merely charged with crime. Those that have no
money to buy food are sent out every day with an armed escort to
beg. The prisoner that hobbled up to me was under twenty years of
age, and had been convicted of murder and condemned to death. He
had appealed against the sentence to a higher court, but I was told
that there was scarcely any chance of a decision in his favour, and
that he would probably be shot in a day or two. Notwithstanding his
critical position, he was lively and cheerful, and when I gave him
a small piece of silver was as overjoyed as if he had got news of
his reprieve. Jumping away, his clanking fetters making ghastly
music, he gleefully showed to his guard the coin that would
probably procure him food the few days he had to live. His wretched
appearance, impending fate, and shocking levity had chased away the
peaceful feelings with which I had watched the quiet sunset; but as
he hobbled off, night, like a pall, fell over the scene; the
trembling stars peeped out from the vault of heaven, and soon a
million distant orbs proclaimed that the world was but a grain of
dust in the vast universe, that the things of earth were but for a
moment, and, as a shadow, would pass away.
Next morning, when we wished to settle up with our kind
entertainers, they absolutely refused to accept any payment. We had
been recommended to the house, and told that we could pay for what
we got; but we now learnt that no one was ever refused
entertainment, and that no charge was made. We were total
strangers, nor should I have any opportunity of returning their
hospitality, as I had determined shortly to return to Europe; but
all I could prevail upon them to accept was a present to a little
girl that lived with the ladies, and of whom they were very fond,
calling her "the daughter of the house." Leaving the hospitable
Senoras Rimirez with many thanks, we started on our return journey
about seven o'clock.
After crossing the river, I noticed boulders of conglomerate in the
drift, none of which had occurred in the valley of Depilto. The bed
rock was still contorted schists, with many quartz veins. At the
top of a steep rise, beyond the river, is a small plateau, or level
terrace, fringing the range, formed of a gravelly boulder deposit;
then another steep ascent led us to a second higher plateau, like
the first, covered with boulders, lying on the level surface. The
first beds of the quartz-conglomerate occurred about half-way
between Ocotal and Totagalpa. Between it and the contorted schists
we passed over some soft, decomposing trap-rocks, which, both here
and elsewhere, appeared to intervene between these two formations.
Over the whole country between Ocotal and Totagalpa were spread
many large boulders, great blocks of conglomerate, and of a hard
blue trap-rock that I did not see in situ, lying on the upturned
edges of the schistose rocks. I should have liked to have worked
out the exact relative positions of the quartz-conglomerate and the
contorted schists, for I have no doubt that a day or two's search
amongst the ravines would have shown many natural sections that
would have thrown great light upon the subject; but I had no time
to devote to it. We were hurrying on every day as far as our mules
could carry us, as it was important that I should get back to the
mines before the end of the month, and I was only able to note down
the exposures that occurred within sight of the road. These,
however, were sufficient to show me that the gneiss of Depilto was
overlain conformably by the contorted schists; that the latter were
followed by soft trappean beds, and these by thick beds of
quartz-conglomerate, apparently derived from the degradation of the
schistose rocks, with their numerous quartz veins.
We reached Totagalpa about eleven o'clock, and remained there some
time engaging labourers. We stayed at the house of a man who made
the common palm-leaf hats, worn throughout the central provinces by
both men and women. The palm-leaves are first boiled, then bleached
in the sun, split into small strips, and platted together like
straw. It was Sunday, and most of the people were in town, sitting
at the doors of their huts, or under their verandahs. Nearly all
the inhabitants of Totagalpa are pure Indians, and are simple and
inoffensive people. They sat listening to three men, one with a
whistle, the others with drums, each striving to make as much noise
as possible, without any attempt at harmony or tune, whilst an
enthusiast in discord kept clanging away at the bells of the
church.
They had no padre of their own, but one occasionally came over from
Somoti, four leagues distant, to celebrate services or visit the
sick. The next day was the great feast of Totagalpa, and they were
preparing for it. As we sat under a verandah opposite the church, a
procession of the town authorities issued from it, bearing a table
and all the silver and brass ornaments. The principal officials
each carried his stick of office, but none, excepting the Alcalde,
could boast a pair of shoes. Their looks of importance and gravity
showed, however, that they considered themselves the chief actors
in an important ceremony. The procession slowly traversed half the
round of the plaza, whilst the bells clanged, the whistle squeaked,
and the drummers thumped their loudest. Stopping at a house at the
corner of the plaza, the officials seated themselves on a bench
outside. Then was brought out to them in bowls, nearly as large as
wash-hand basins, the old Indian drink, "chicha," made from
fermented corn and sugar. Each man had one of the great bowls and a
napkin; the latter they spread over their knees, and rested the
bowl on it, taking long sips every now and then with evident signs
of satisfaction. Little have these people changed from the times of
the Conquest. Pascual de Andagoya, writing of the people of
Nicaragua when they were first subjugated by Hernandez de Cordova,
in 1520, says, "The whole happiness of the people consists in
drinking the wine they make from maize, which is like beer, and on
this they get as drunk as if it was the wine of Spain; and all the
festivals they hold are for the purpose of drinking."* (* Hakluyt
Society. "Narrative of Pascual de Andagoya" Translated by C.R.
Markham page 34.)
The cross, candlesticks, and other ornaments were arranged on a
table, and were each carefully and solemnly washed with hot water.
This they do every year the day before their feast, and it makes
the occasion for the procession and chicha-drinking. Most of the
men of the township were gathered around, and in all the straight
coarse black hair and Indian features were unmistakable. The
chicha-drinking was too long a business for our patience, and we
went over to the church, where we found a number of the Indian
women with great baskets full of most beautiful and sweet-smelling
flowers, making garlands and bouquets to decorate the holy images
and church. The beautiful flowers were twined in wreaths, or stuck
on prepared stands and shapes, and their fragrance filled the
church. The love of flowers is another beautiful trait of the old
Indians that their descendants have not lost. The ancient Mexicans
decorated their altars and temples with flowers, and in their
festivals crowned themselves with garlands.
I mentioned the glistening white tower of the church in the account
of our journey out. I now learnt that it was only finished the year
before our visit, and had cost these poor people over 700 dollars
in money, besides gifts of stone, wood, and labour amounting to
more than as much again. At other Mestizo towns, where the churches
were like dilapidated barns, we heard much of the religious fervour
of the Indians of Totagalpa. At one time, when building the tower,
both their funds and the lime were exhausted. In this strait the
Alcalde called the people of the town together, and told them that
the tower, on the building of which they had already spent so much,
could not be finished without lime. Then and there they determined
themselves to carry the limestone from the quarries, near Ocotal,
ten miles distant. Next morning, before daylight, the whole village
set out, and at night a long line of men, women, and children came
staggering back into Totagalpa, every one with a block of
limestone; and so zealous were they to bring as large stones as
they could carry, that some of them had great sores worn between
their shoulders where they carried their loads, slung, Indian
fashion, from their foreheads. Here survives the same old Indian
spirit, only turned in another direction, that impelled their
forefathers, with great labour and patience, to bring from a
distance and pile up great cairns of stones over the graves of
their chieftains.
This care of their church is quite spontaneous on their part, as
they have no padre; indeed, from my experience of the priests in
other towns, I think it likely that if they had one, he would
intercept most of the offerings expended on the church and images.
There are exceptions, but generally the padres of Central America
are rapacious and immoral. They are much now as they were in Thomas
Gage's time, more than two hundred years ago, and the poor Indians
are just as humble and respectful to them. In his quaint book, "A
New Survey of the West Indies", he says: "Above all, to their
priest they are very respectful; and when they come to speak to him
put on their best clothes and study their words and compliments to
please him. They yielded to the popish religion, especially to the
worshipping of saints' images, because they look upon them as much
like their forefathers' idols. Out of the smallest of their means
they will be sure to buy some of these saints, and bring them to
the church that they may stand and be worshipped by them and
others. The churches are full of them, and they are placed upon
stands, gilded and painted, to be carried in procession on their
proper day. And hence comes no small profit to the priests; for on
such saints' days the owner of the saint makes a great feast in the
town, and presents the priest sometimes two or three, sometimes
four or five crowns for his mass and sermon, besides a turkey and
three or four fowls, with as much cacao as will make him chocolate
for all the octave or eight days following. The priest, therefore,
is very watchful over these saints' days, and sends warning
beforehand to the Indians of the day of their saint. If they
contribute not bountifully, then the priest will chide and threaten
that he will not preach."* (* Loc cit pages 332-334.)
When we left Totagalpa, they were still drinking "chicha;" and I
shall not forget the solemn satisfied look of the shoeless
corporation, as they sipped their drink in sight of their
townspeople, now and then singling out some friend, to whom they
signed to come and quaff at the big bowl. The warm drink had
loosened the tongue of the solemn alcalde. He came, and with many
compliments, wished us a good journey. He, good man, had reached
the summit of his ambition--he was the chief of his native town; he
wore shoes; and what more could he hope for or desire?
The central government interferes but little with the local
officials; and the small towns in the interior are almost
self-governed. Neither do they pay any direct taxes, the only
contributions to the national exchequer being fees for killing
cattle, selling land or houses, and making agreements, and a
government monopoly in the sale of tobacco and spirits. So the
country folks lead an easy life, excepting in times of revolution,
when they are pressed into the army. The Indian townships are
better managed than those of the Spaniards and Mestizos; the plazas
are kept freer from weeds, and the roads in good order. Probably
nowhere but in tropical America can it be said that the
introduction of European civilisation has caused a retrogression;
and that those communities are the happiest and the best-governed
who retain most of their old customs and habits. Yet there it is
so. The civilisation that Cortez overthrew was more suitable for
the Indians than that which has supplanted it. Who can read the
accounts of the populous towns of Mexico and Central America in the
time of Montezuma, with their magnificent buildings and squares;
their gardens both zoological and botanical; their markets,
attended by merchants from the surrounding countries; their
beautiful cloth and feather work, the latter now a lost art; their
picture writing; their cunning artificers in gold and silver; their
astronomical knowledge; their schools; their love of order, of
cleanliness, of decency; their morality and wonderful patriotism,
without feeling that the conquest of Mexico was a deplorable
calamity; that if that ancient civilisation had been saved it might
have been Christianised and purified without being destroyed, and
to-day have stood one of the wonders and delights of the world. Its
civilisation was self-grown, it was indigenous, it was unique: a
few poor remnants of its piety, love of order, and self-government
still remain in remote Indian townships; but its learning,
magnificence, and glory have gone for ever.
On leaving Totagalpa, we took the road for Yalaguina. About a mile
from the first-named town, the contorted schists cropped up again,
and were followed, as before, by beds of soft decomposing trap, and
these again by thick beds of quartz-conglomerate. This succession
was repeated two or three times during the day's journey. The trap
beds formed, by decomposition, a dark fertile soil. Wherever maize
was planted on it, it was thriving greatly. We reached Yalaguina
about two o'clock, and pushed on for Palacaguina, four leagues
further on, passing for a considerable part of the road along the
banks of a small stream, by the side of which were some large and
fine fields of maize and beans.
We reached Palacaguina an hour before dark, and on asking for
lodging for the night, were directed to a small poor-looking house.
The front door of this was closed when we rode up, but was opened
with haste, and about a dozen young men rushed out, who, it turned
out afterwards, had been gambling, and hence the closed doors. We
were asked to alight; one man took the gun; others offered to take
our hats, to unload the pack-mule, etc. Two or three of them were
Zambeses, and not very good-looking; they made themselves so
officious, that Velasquez confessed to me afterwards that he was
rather afraid of them, and thought they were too pressing in their
attentions, and meant to rob us. Our fears were groundless; they
had been suddenly startled in the midst of an illegal game, and
were glad to find that we were not government officers pouncing
upon them. The house itself was dirty and small, with one hammock
and one chair for its furniture; we should have fared badly if one
of the men, Don Trinidad Soso, had not recollected having once seen
Velasquez before, and on the strength of that considered himself
bound to take our entertainment into his own hands. He was the
nephew of the padre, who was absent, and he invited us to his
uncle's house, where we were soon installed, and found much more
comfortable quarters. The padre had a good-looking housekeeper, who
was also an excellent cook; and she got us ready a supper of
venison, tortillas, eggs, and chocolate, to which we did not fail
to do justice. Then the padre's bedstead was placed at my disposal,
so that altogether we had been most fortunate in meeting with our
good friend Don Trinidad.
Most of the people living at Palacaguina were half-breeds with a
large infusion of Negro blood; and the weed-covered streets and
plaza and dilapidated church compared unfavourably with the not far
distant Indian town of Totagalpa. The Mestizos are a thriftless,
careless people, but I care not here to dilate on their
shortcomings. Let only the hospitality and kindness I experienced
in Palacaguina live in my mind, and let regret draw a veil over
their failings, and censure forget to chide.
Next morning Don Trinidad went himself to get us milk for our
chocolate, three or four others assisted us as kindly on our
departure as they had welcomed us on our arrival, and we rode away
with more pleasant recollections of the weedy-looking town than if
we had been entertained by grandees; for these people were poor,
and had assisted us out of pure good-nature. The country at first
was level, and the roads smooth and dry. The morning was
delightfully cool; and as we trotted along our spirits were high
and gay, and snatches of song sprang unbidden to our lips. How
delightful these rides in the early morning were! how all nature
seemed to be in accord with our feelings! Every bush and tree was
noted, every bird-call heard. We would shout to one another, "Do
you see this or that?" or set Rito off into convulsions with some
thin joke. Every sense was gratified; it was like the youth of
life. But as the day wore on, the sun would shine hotter and
hotter, what had been a pleasure became a toil, and we would push
on determinedly but silently. The day would age, and our shadows
come again and begin to lengthen; the heat of the day was past, but
our spirits would not mount to their morning's height. The
beautiful flowers, the curious thorny bushes, the gorgeous
butterflies, and many-coloured birds were all there; but our
attention could only be called unwillingly to them. Our jaded
animals trudged on with mechanical steps, and, tired ourselves, we
thought of nothing but getting to the end of our day's journey, and
resting our weary frames.
We did not return from Palacaguina by the road we had come, but
took one much more to the westward. This we did, not only to see a
fresh line of country, but to gratify Rito with a visit to his
relations, whom he had not seen for two years. Two miles beyond
Palacaguina, we crossed a river, beyond which I saw no more of the
quartz-conglomerate that I have so often mentioned whilst passing
through Segovia. From this place to the mines the rocks were soft
decomposing dolerites, with many harder bands of felsite, and,
occasionally, plains composed of more recent trachytic lavas.
We passed through another weedy, dilapidated town, called Condego,
where they have a singular custom at their annual festival held on
the 15th of May. For some weeks before this date, they catch all
the wild beasts and birds they can, and keep them alive. During the
night preceding the feast-day they plant the plaza in front of the
church with full-grown plants of maize, rice, beans, and all the
other vegetables that they cultivate; and amongst them they fasten
the wild beasts and birds that have been collected; so that the sun
that set on a bare, weedy plaza rises on one full of vegetable and
animal life. The year before, a young jaguar that had been caught
was the great attraction. It has now grown so large, that they are
afraid of it, and do not know what to do with it. It is kept in an
empty house at Pueblo Nuevo, along with a dog, to which it is
greatly attached, although it is the one that caught it when young.
The custom of planting the square with vegetables, and bringing
together all the wild animals that can be collected, is doubtless
an Indian one. The ancient Nicaraguans are said to have worshipped
maize and beans, but the service may not have had more significance
than our own harvest feasts.
We reached the edge of the savannahs of the plain of Segovia and
began to ascend the high ranges that divide it from the province of
Matagalpa, and soon entered a mountainous country. Our course at
first lay up the banks of a torrent that had cut deeply into beds
of boulder clay filled with great stones. The lower part of the
range was covered with trees of various kinds, but none of them
growing to a great height; higher up we reached the sighing pine
trees, and higher still, the hills were covered with grass, and
supported herds of cattle. About noon, we arrived at a poor-looking
hacienda near the top of the range. The proprietor owned about two
hundred cattle, and lived in a house, mud-walled and
grass-thatched, consisting of one room and a kitchen. Round the
sides of the room were crowded eight rude bedsteads, and hammocks
were slung across the centre. A mob of twenty-one men, women, and
children lived at the house, and must have herded together like
cattle at night. There were a great number of half-clothed and
naked children running about. The women, of whom there were six,
made us some chocolate and tortillas ready, and we rested awhile.
Before we left, the men came in with the milking cows and calves.
There were two men on horseback, but as the country was too rough
for riding fast, they were accompanied by three boys on foot, who
were sweating profusely with running after the cattle. The calves
were separated from the cows and fastened up. The cows would keep
near the corral until the next morning, when they would be milked,
and the calves turned out with them again.
We continued to ascend for a mile further, and then reached the top
of the range, which was bare of trees and covered with sedgy grass.
Heavy rain came on, with tremendous gusts of wind, and as the path
lay along the very crest of the mountain range, we were exposed to
all the fury of the storm. In some places the cargo mule was nearly
blown down the steep slope, and the one I was riding had to stop
sometimes to keep its feet. The wind was bleak, and we were
drenched with rain, and very cold. Fortunately the storm of rain
did not last for more than half-an-hour, but the high cold wind
continued all the time we were on the ridge, which was several
miles long, with steep slopes on either side. We were glad when we
got to a more sheltered spot, where some mountain oak trees
protected us from the wind, and at four o'clock, reaching a small
scattered settlement called Sontuli, we determined, although early
in the day, to stay there, as it was Rito's birthplace, and his
only sister, whom he had not seen for two years, lived there. All
the hamlet were Rito's friends, and he had soon a crowd about him
talking and laughing.
None of the lands around were enclosed--all seemed to be common
property; and every family had a few cows and two or three brood
mares. A little maize was grown, but the climate was rather too
bleak and wet for it. We were now close to the boundary of the
province of Matagalpa, and began again to hear of the drought that
had destroyed most of the maize crop in that province, although in
Chontales, on one side of it, we had had rather more rain than
usual, and in Segovia, on the other, we had seen that the crops
were excellent. Probably the high ranges that bound Matagalpa on
every side had intercepted the rains and drained the winds of their
moisture.
Having made such an early halt, we intended to have made up for it
by an equally early start the next morning, but were detained by
our mules having strayed during the night, and it was seven o'clock
before they could be found. We had a long day's journey before us,
during which we should not be able to buy any provisions, so, over
night, Rito's sister had cooked a fowl for us to take with us. She
had married one of the settlers of Sontuli, and, although still
young and fresh-looking, had already three lusty children. The
great number of children at all the houses had surprised me
greatly, as I had been told that the country was decreasing in
population. This, I have no doubt, is a mistake, and the
inhabitants, if the country should remain at peace, would multiply
rapidly.
On leaving Sontuli, the road led over mountain pastures and through
woods of the evergreen oak draped from top to bottom with the grey
moss-like Tillandsia, which hung in long festoons from every
branch, and was wound around the trunks, like garlands, by the
wind: the larger masses, waving in the breeze, hung down for four
or five feet below the branches. The small birds build in them, and
they form excellent hiding-places for their nests, where they are
tolerably secure from the attacks of their numerous enemies. I had
often, when in the tropics, to notice the great sagacity or
instinct of the small birds in choosing places for their nests. So
many animals--monkeys, wild-cats, raccoons, opossums, and
tree-rats--are constantly prowling about, looking out for eggs and
young birds, that, unless placed with great care, their progeny
would almost certainly be destroyed. The different species of
Oropendula or Orioles (Icteridae) of tropical America choose high,
smooth-barked trees, standing apart from others, from which to hang
their pendulous nests. Monkeys cannot get at them from the tops of
other trees, and any predatory mammal attempting to ascend the
smooth trunks would be greatly exposed to the attacks of the birds,
armed, as they are, with strong sharp-pointed beaks. Several other
birds in the forest suspend their nests from the small but tough
air roots that hang down from the epiphytes growing on the
branches, where they often look like a natural bunch of moss
growing on them. The various prickly bushes are much chosen,
especially the bull's-horn thorn, which I have already described.
Many birds hang their nests from the extremities of the branches,
and a safer place could hardly be chosen, as with the sharp thorns
and the stinging ants that inhabit them no mammal would, I think,
dare to attempt the ascent of the tree. Stinging ants are not the
only insects whose assistance birds secure by building near their
nests. A small parrot builds constantly on the plains in a hole
made in the nests of the termites, and a species of fly-catcher
makes its nest alongside of that of one of the wasps. On the
savannahs, between Acoyapo and Nancital, there is a shrub with
sharp curved prickles, called Viena paraca (come here) by the
Spaniards, because it is difficult to extricate oneself from its
hold when the dress is caught, for as one part is cleared another
will be entangled. A yellow and brown flycatcher builds its nest in
these bushes, and generally places it alongside that of a banded
wasp, so that with the prickles and the wasps it is well guarded. I
witnessed, however, the death of one of the birds from the very
means it had chosen for the protection of its young. Darting
hurriedly out of its domed nest as we were passing, it was caught
just under its bill by one of the curved hook-like thorns, and in
trying to extricate itself got further entangled. Its fluttering
disturbed the wasps, who flew down upon it, and in less than a
minute stung it to death. We tried in vain to rescue it, for the
wasps attacked us also, and one of our party was severely stung by
them. We had to leave it hanging up dead in front of its nest,
whilst its mate flew round and round screaming out its terror and
distress. I find that other travellers have noted the fact of birds
building their nests near colonies of wasps for protection. Thus,
according to Gosse, the grassquit of Jamaica (Spermophila olivacea)
often selects a shrub on which wasps have built, and fixes the
entrance to its domed nest close to their cells. Prince Maximilian
Neuwied states in his "Travels in Brazil", that he found the
curious purse-shaped nest of one of the Todies constantly placed
near the nests of wasps, and that the natives informed him that it
did so to secure itself from the attacks of its enemies. I should
have thought that when building their nests they would be very
liable to be attacked by the wasps. The nests placed in these
positions appear always to be domed, probably for security against
their unstable friends.