SECOND ANTIQUARIAN EXPEDITION—THE SHORES OF LAKE MANAGUA ONCE
MORE—MATEARAS—DON HENRIQUE’S COMADRE—AM ENGAGED AS GOD FATHER—AN
AMAZON—SANTA MARIA DE BUENA VISTA—A “CHARACTER” IN PETTICOATS—“LA
NEGRITA, Y LA BLANQUITA”—PURCHASE OF BUENA VISTA—A YANKEE IDEA IN A
NICARAGUAN HEAD—HINTS FOR SPECULATORS—MUCHACHO _vs._
BURRO—EQUESTRIAN INTOXICATION—ANOTHER APOSTROPHE!—PESCADORS—“HAY NO
MAS,” AND “ESTA AQUI,” AS MEASURES OF DISTANCE—MANAGUA—THE “MAL
PAIS,” NINDIRI, AND MASAYA—SOMETHING COOL—A POMPOUS ALCALDE—HOW TO
ARREST CONSPIRATORS—FLOWERS OF THE PALM—DESCENT TO THE
LAKE—MEMORIALS OF CATASTROPHES—LAS AGUADORAS—NEW MODE OF SOUNDING
DEPTHS—ILL-BRED MONKEYS—TRADITIONAL PRACTICES—OVIEDO’s ACCOUNT OF
THE LAKE IN 1529—SARDINES—THE PLAZA ON MARKET NIGHT—A
YANKEE CLOCK—SOMETHING COOLER—A STATE BEDROOM FOR A
MINISTER—ANCIENT CHURCH—FILLING OUT A VOCABULARY—“QUEBRADA DE
INSCRIPCIONES”—SCULPTURED ROCKS; THEIR CHARACTER—ANCIENT EXCAVATIONS
IN THE ROCK—“EL BANO”—PAINTED ROCKS OF SANTA CATRINA—NIGHT RIDE TO
GRANADA—THE LAGUNA DE SALINAS BY MOONLIGHT—GRANADA IN PEACE—A QUERY
TOUCHING HUMAN HAPPINESS—NEW QUARTERS, AND OLD FRIENDS—AN AMERICAN
SAILOR—HIS ADVENTURES—“WIN OR DIE”—A HAPPY SEQUEL.
The dry season had now fairly commenced; for two weeks no rain had
fallen on the plains of Leon, except an occasional “aguacéro” which
sprinkled out its brief existence under the lee of the volcanoes. The
circumstances were now favorable for carrying out my long cherished
purpose of again visiting Granada, and from thence prosecuting my
investigations of the antiquities reported to exist in its vicinity, and
in the islands of Lake Nicaragua. Locking up the main wing of my house,
and handing over my keys to Padre Cartine for safe keeping, with no
other companions than M. and my servant, I set out on the expedition.
It was just daybreak when we rode through the suburb of Guadaloupe, but
already the Indians were yoking their oxen and preparing for their day’s
work. Here we overtook Don Felipe Jauregui, Commissioner of Honduras,
who had started for Costa Rica, and who felicitated himself greatly on
having our company during part of his journey. But Don Felipe had a
servant with the mules and a led horse for emergencies, and valued time
at its current rate in Central America, where it never rules at a
premium. He had a long journey before him, and meant to take it easily.
So, before we had gone a league, after trying in vain to seduce his
horse into a pace, I took advantage of a little bend in the road to give
him the slip, nor did I see anything more of him until the next day, in
the evening, when he overtook us at the town of Masaya.
I never wearied of the ride to Pueblo Nuevo, and thence along the shores
of Managua to Matearas; nor would the reader weary of its repeated
description, could my pen truly portray its charms. The afternoon was
still, and the beach, upon which the tiny waves toyed with a low,
musical murmur, was cool in the broad shadows of the cliffs which
bordered it upon the west, and crowned with verdure, shut off the rays
of the evening sun. My old friends, the long-legged cranes, were there,
distant and grave as usual, and clearly in bad humor at these repeated
intrusions. And when we dismounted and took a bath in the lake, they
audibly expressed their dissatisfaction, and marched off a few rods,
where they held an indignation meeting, in company with a rabble of
water-hens and disreputable “zopolotes.” I had great contempt for them
ever after that.
We reached Matearas at sunset, and “put up” at the house of Don
Henrique’s pet. She inquired about our friend, and felt “very desolate,”
she said, because he had not sent her some pills he had promised—for be
it known, every foreigner in Central America is more or less a “medico.”
The little naked fellow for whom Don Henrique had stood sponsor, was
tumbling about the floor, engaged in a pretty even contest with two pigs
and three chickens, about a piece of tortilla. The pigs appeared most
afflicted, and squealed in a distressful way because of their ill
success. Our little hostess did not take the trouble to interfere, but
gave “aid and comfort” to her boy, by keeping off a matronly porker,
evidently deeply interested, which stood looking in at the door-way. I
could not help laughing at the group, but my merriment puzzled the poor
woman exceedingly. She looked at me inquiringly, blushed, and drew
forward a large reboso, which was thrown loosely over her shoulders, so
as to conceal her figure. I saw her mistake at once, and hastened to
correct it in the most direct manner, for in these countries it is the
only way of preserving a good understanding. A tear glistened in her
eye, while a smile lit up her face, as she replied in a touching tone,
“A thousand thanks, Señor; we are very poor people, and cannot afford to
be laughed at.” She told me with the greatest frankness how soon another
god-father would be wanted, and as she had had a Frenchman for the
first, she should “so like” to have an American for the second. I
assured her that I should be happy to serve, if I could make it
convenient to be there at the proper time. A few minutes afterwards, I
overheard her telling the gossiping female neighbors who had “dropped
in,” that the thing was all settled. “El Ministro del Norte” was to be
sponsor for the prospective immortal, “seguro! seguro!” sure! sure! How
proudly the little woman moved about the rest of the evening! She
superintended all the details of supper, and _when I went to bed on the
table_, would have substituted her pillow, the only one in the house,
for my saddle, had I permitted her. That table! There is but one thing
harder under the sun, and that is Don Pedro Blanco’s bed of hide!
After this intimation, I need not add that I was not exactly “lapped in
Elysium” during the night. It was not so much the fault of the table, as
of some arrieros, stopping at the hut over the way, who had got together
the belles of the village, and with the aid of aguardiente, a guitar,
and two tallow candles, were making a night of it. I sat up several
times to look at them through the little square window over the table.
Various groups of dancers were whirling around a man playing the guitar,
a gay mestizo with a red sash around his waist and his hat set jauntily
on one side, who performed with all the vigor of “the bones,” in the
_Opéras Ethiopiennes_, and from the shouts of laughter which followed
some of the hits, evidently improvising the song with which he
accompanied the music. Some of these hits, I infer, were personal, for
suddenly a strapping yellow girl, in a dashing flounce, flung herself
out of her partner’s arms, and seizing the performer’s hat, flung it
under her feet. The next instant she had him by the hair;—there was a
tustle, a mingled sound of laughter, supplication, and abuse, in the
midst of which the table was upset, and the lights extinguished. I
flattered myself this was the final “grand tableau.” Delusive hope! Half
an hour of violent discussion ensued, in which the voice of the Amazon
was highest, and then the _entente cordiale_ seemed restored. Looking
out of the window, I saw the man of the guitar in his former place, and
everything going on as before. I presume, however, that the _improvisor_
was now more respectful in his allusions.
We left before sunrise the next morning, deferring breakfast until our
arrival at Managua, twenty miles distant. I rode ahead, and allowed my
horse to take his own course. Upon reaching the volcanic ridge which I
have mentioned as projecting into the lake, where the mule road diverges
from the round-about _camina real_, he entered the wrong path, and we
went on for half an hour before discovering the error. I then determined
to push ahead, whatsoever the consequences. We soon came to a clearing,
and a little beyond, to a number of huts, standing upon the very brow of
the mountain, and looking out upon the lake, and beyond its shores, to
the hills of Chontales. I involuntarily spurred my horse forward. It was
the broadest, most luxuriant view upon which my eye had ever rested.
That from Laurel Hill, descending the Alleghanies, is alone comparable
to it, but lacks the grand and essential elements of lakes, volcanoes,
and tropical verdure. The morning breeze swept fresh and exhilarating
past us, and our very horses lifted their heads, and with expanded
nostrils and ears thrown forward, seemed to drink in the cool air, and
to enjoy the surprise and the scene not less than ourselves.
We were several times saluted with “buenas mañanas caballeros!” by a
short, merry-faced old lady, the mistress of the huts, before we had the
gallantry to turn from the scene to the señora. Two or three naked boys,
with bows and arrows and cerbatanas or blowing-tubes, stood beside her,
and a couple of grown girls peeped slyly at us from behind the broken
door of the principal hut. The old lady was a sympathetic body, and her
face was really brilliant with animation, as she exclaimed “buena vista,
caballeros!” prolonging the “vees-ta,” as she swept her hand in the
direction of the distant horizon. This “hatto,” she said, was called
“Santa Maria de Buena Vista,” and she was the mistress. These, she
added, are my niños, boys, and these “malditas,” pointing to the girls
who dodged out of sight, are my “_hijas grandes_,” my big girls.
“Venga!” come here, she ejaculated; but the girls wouldn’t come,
whereupon the old lady went into the house and dragged them out. One was
fair, with light hair and blue eyes, while the other, like her mother,
was a brunette, her dark eyes, half shadowed by her long curling hair,
fairly dancing with suppressed mischief. I had long before ceased to be
surprised at wide differences of color and features in the same family;
but the contrast here was so striking that I could not help exclaiming
interrogatively “_ambas?_” _both?_ “Si!” she answered, with emphasis;
“esta negrita,” this darkey, is my husband’s, “y esta blanquita es una
Francescita!” and this white one is French! The inference from this
_naivé_ confession was so obvious a reflection on the old lady’s honor,
that I thought it but decent not to understand it, and modestly
suggested, “Ah si, su compadre fue Frances,” ah yes, her god-father was
French! “No, su padre—padre!” no, her father, father, interrupted the
matron, with energy; “I was young once,” she added, after a pause, and
with a toss of the head, which made me repent my ill-timed suggestion.
Ah! the perfidious Frenchman who had abused the hospitalities of “Santa
Maria de Buena Vista!” The wretch had evidently a taste for the
picturesque.
The old lady inquired how I liked the place; I was, of course,
delighted. “Very well,” said she, “buy it;” and she went on to enumerate
its advantages, making the most of the view. I suggested that there was
no water; but that she said was of slight importance, it was only a mile
to the lake—she had got water there for fourteen years, and there was
plenty of it, as we could see. Besides, I could have either one of her
girls to bring it for me; _both_ if I liked; and all for a hundred
dollars! But the concluding argument confounded me; she communicated it
in a whisper. The Norte Americanos were building a canal, and in a few
months, Buena Vista would be worth four times the money! I took off my
hat incontinently, and only regretted that the old lady had no
lithographic press, wherewith to convert Buena Vista into town lots! I
promised to consider the proposition—particularly so far as it related
to the “negrita,” and the “blanquita,” both of whom, I wished to have it
distinctly understood, were to be included, because it was more than one
ought to do, to bring _all_ the water from the lake. The old lady
admitted the force of the argument, and gravely assented. The final
arrangement was deferred until my return. One of the boys pointed out
the path, down the face of the mountain to the lake; we had only to
follow the shore, he said, to reach Managua. I asked how far it
was,—“hay no mas!” “there is no more, it is only a step,” he replied,
and we left him in high spirits, thinking we had really discovered a
short cut, instead of having gone two leagues out of our way. The path
to the edge of the lake was steep, but well-worn, and we descended
without much difficulty. The beach was broad and smooth, and on a little
knoll, covered with grass, and arched with trees, was the place where
the women of Buena Vista did their washing. The huts, as we looked up,
seemed perched on the edge of a precipice, and with the palms that
surrounded them, stood out in sharp relief against the sky. Cattle from
the pasturage grounds were loitering in the edge of the water; there was
a donkey, grave but stubborn, which a half-grown boy was trying to drive
somewhere, but which not only wouldn’t go, but kicked viciously when the
muchacho approached. The boy seemed almost ready to cry with vexation,
and begged I would shoot the obstinate brute, which he denounced, not
only as “sin verguenza,” but as a great many other things, which would
hardly bear translating. We left him stoning the “burro,” at point blank
distance, just out of the range of his heels; and if neither one has
given in, they may be there still.
The shore was hard and smooth, and our horses moved along, the waves
dashing to their fetlocks, with an elastic and nervous action, in which
the merest clod must have sympathized. Occasionally arching their necks,
and lifting up their heads, their whinny was like the blast of a
trumpet! Ah, my noble gray—with thy clear eye, expanded nostrils, taper
ears, and the veins swelling full on thy arching neck!—son of Arabian
sires! hast thou forgotten that morning’s ride on the shores of Managua?
Wine may quicken the blood with an unnatural, evanescent flow; the magic
hakshish stupify the frame, and for the moment make the tense nerves
vibrate to the melodies of the spirit world,—but give me a free rein,
and the willing back of my Arab gray, and the full, expanding, elevating
intoxication of a tropical morning!
On, on, we seemed to float along the edge of the lake. By-and-by the
hills came down like barriers to the water. Here we scrambled for awhile
amongst rough rocks, cutting vines and branches right and left with our
swords, and emerged on the shore of a little bay. Two men, up to their
arm-pits in the water, were throwing a cast-net near the rocks, while a
third trailed after him what appeared to be a long branch of the palm
tree, but which was a cord, whereon the fishes were strung. He towed it
ashore, at our request, and showed us some hundreds of beautiful fish,
most of them of a species resembling our rock-bass, and about the size
of a small shad. I asked the price—ten for a _medio_, or sixpence! We
declined purchasing, whereupon he offered ten for a _quartillo_, equal
to three cents. I then told him we did not wish to buy, but that there
was a _real_ to drink the health of los Americanos.
We had now come more than a league, and I began to think as it had been
“_hay no mas_” to Managua at Buena Vista, we must be near the place. We
were now told “_esta aqui_,” “it is here, you are in it;” which we
afterwards found to mean that it was only six miles further. After much
experience, I came to understand that “_hay no mas_,” “there is no
more,” or it is no further, is a figurative way of saying from nine to
twelve miles; and “_esta aqui_,” “it is here,” from six to nine. “Una
legua,” a league, I may add, for the benefit of uninitiated travellers,
may be calculated at pleasure, at from a mile and a half, to five
miles,—“you pays your money, and you takes your choice!”
Another league along the lake shore, occasionally turning a rocky
headland, and we came to a large plantain walk, from which a broad path
diverging to the right, assured us that we were approaching the city.
The path was as smooth and as clear as a race course, and our horses,
who had been in high spirits all the morning, struck at once into a fast
gallop. I bent down on my steed’s neck, to avoid the branches of the
trees, and gave him a loose rein. It was a very undignified race, no
doubt, on the part of the riders, but both gray and bay enjoyed it, and
so did we, by sheer force of sympathy. We met numbers of people going to
their _huertas_, who leaped out of the path as we went scurrying along.
Some cried “_hoo-pah!_” and others ejaculated something, in which I
could only distinguish “_borracho_”—“_drunk!_” But _that_ was a mistake.
We dashed into the plaza of Managua, with steaming steeds, and rode to
the posada. It was not nine o’clock, yet we had ridden twenty-six miles.
We ordered breakfast, and it was quite ready before Ben came trotting up
on his mule. He was in bad humor, and I couldn’t blame him, for it was
shabby to leave him alone in the chapparal.
At eleven, when we started for Masaya, the sky was clouded but it did
not rain, and we rode at a rapid pace over the intervening thirty-six
miles. Again we paused on the “mal pais” of the volcano, and looked down
upon its broad, desolate fields—doubly black and desolate under a
lowering sky. Again we lingered in the noiseless streets of sweet,
embowered Nindiri, born of the lake and mountain,—and at four o’clock
entered the suburbs of Masaya.
I had a letter to a gentleman, who, for reasons which will duly appear,
shall be nameless, and inquired for his residence. In reaching it, we
had to go through the plaza; it afforded a striking contrast to the
appearance it had worn when we passed it before. The closed shops were
now open, and flaunting with gayly-colored goods—groups of people with
laden mules were scattered in every direction, and women with dulces
stepped across it with the precision of grenadiers! A procession
consisting of a boy ringing a little bell, and followed by some
musicians and a priest, was just emerging from the great church, on its
way to administer the last rites of religion to the dying. The hum of
voices was stilled on the instant; every head was uncovered and every
knee bent, as the little procession moved by on its mission of
consolation and mercy; another moment, and the current of life and
action flowed on as if nothing had occurred.
The house where we were to stop was a very good one, and we rode at once
into the court-yard. A lady, fat and fair, and not without pretensions
to beauty, was seated in the corridor. She invited us to dismount, which
we did, and I handed her my letter of introduction. She looked at the
direction, and said it was for her husband, who had gone out; she would
give it to him on his return. I suggested that she had better read it;
but, singular woman, “she never read her husband’s letters!” She
nevertheless showed a distant relationship to the sex, by depositing it
in her bosom—the bosom of her dress. Perhaps she had the ability, in
common with certain maiden ladies of New-England, of taking in the
contents by a mystical process of magnetic absorption. It wasn’t
pleasant to sit waiting in the corridor; we had not come to make a call,
but to stop for the night, and all the next day, and after waiting a
reasonable time for an invitation, I told Ben to unsaddle the horses,
and place our baggage in the corridor. The mistress looked a little
puzzled, but said nothing. In fact the whole affair was getting to be
awkward; so I suggested to M., that pending the return of our proposed
host, we should visit the lake.
The first man we met in the street proved to be one of the identical
alcaldes who were in such a fever to ring the bells, when we had passed
through, six months before. He at once volunteered to accompany us to
the lake, and took the lead with a magisterial air, as if heralding
royalty, bringing his golden-headed cane down at every step with an
emphasis which struck terror into all the muchachos within a square of
him. Occasionally he would stop to point out to us, or to explain, some
object of interest. _That_ house, he said, the door and windows of which
were riddled with bullets, had been the rendezvous of the “facciosos”
during the late disturbances. The prefect having got wind of their
meetings, silently surrounded it with soldiers, and the first intimation
the conspirators had of danger, came with a hundred bullets through
their doors and windows, and was followed by a charge of the bayonet—a
mode of proceeding I thought sufficiently decided for any latitude! That
house, falling into ruins, and surrounded by rank weeds, that was the
house of a man who had murdered a padre; the bishop had cursed the spot,
and it was fenced in with posts, so that stray porkers might not fall
under ban by entering its crumbling portal! Those extraordinary clumps
of flowers, looking like mammoth golden epaulettes, were flowers of the
coyol palm—and those brown shells, each half shaped like a canoe, and
almost as large, those were the cases in which the flower had matured.
And thus our guide went on, marching us the while down a broad avenue,
thronged with water carriers, in the direction of the lake. I observed
that the jars here were not carried on the head, but in a kind of
net-work sack, suspended on the back by a broad and gayly woven strap
passing around the foreheads of the bearers, who came up panting and
covered with perspiration.
Half or three-quarters of a mile from the plaza, we came to the edge of
the immense sunken area, at the bottom of which is the lake. Like the
“Laguna de Salinas,” near Granada, and which I have already described,
it is surrounded by precipitous cliffs, except upon the side of the
volcano, opposite the city, where the lava has flowed over, and made a
gradual but rough and impassable slope to the water. The first stage of
the descent is by a broad flight of steps, sunk in the solid rock,
terminating in an area, fenced by a kind of balustrade, or parapet, of
the same material. I looked over this, and below was a sheer precipice,
from which I recoiled with a shudder. Here stands a little cross firmly
fixed in the rock. The path now turns to the right, winding along the
face of the declivity, here cut in the cliff, there built up with
masonry, and beyond secured by timbers, fastened to the trees, many of
which are of gigantic size, covered with vines, and twining their
gnarled roots in every direction among the rocks. These rocks themselves
are burned and blistered with heat, with vitrified surfaces of red or
black, resembling, the hardest enamel. Were it not for the verdure,
which hides the awful steeps and yawning depths, the path would prove a
fearful road for people of weak heads and treacherous nerves, whose
confidence in themselves would not be improved by the crosses which,
fastened among the stones, or against the trees, point out the places of
fatal catastrophes. Our guide advised us to take off our boots before
commencing the descent, and the women whom we met slowly toiling up, in
many places holding on by their hands, panted “_quita sus botas!_”—“take
off your boots!” But we were more used to boots than they, and kept them
on—not without subjecting ourselves to a suspicion of fool-hardiness.
Down, catching glimpses of the lake, apparently directly beneath us, and
as distant as when we started,—down, down,—it was full fifteen or twenty
minutes before we reached the bottom. Here were numerous places among
the fallen rocks and the volcanic debris of the cliff, where the
_aguadoras_ filled their jars. Many of these were bathing in the water,
carrying their jars out several rods from shore, filling them there and
then towing them in. They did not appear at all disconcerted by our
presence, so we sat down on the rocks and talked with the brown Naiads.
I asked one of them if the lake was deep? She replied that it was
“insondable,” bottomless; and to give me practical evidence of its great
depth, paddled ashore, and taking a large stone in each hand, went out
not more than thirty feet, and suffered herself to sink. She was gone so
long that I began to grow nervous, lest some accident had befallen her
in those unknown depths, but directly she popped up to the surface,
almost in the very place where she had disappeared. She gasped a moment
for breath, and then, turning to me, exclaimed, “you see!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: LAKE AND VOLCANO OF MASAYA.—1859.]
[Illustration: RUINED GATEWAY, MASAYA.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The water is warm, but limpid, and, it is said, pure. When cooled, it is
sweet and palatable. Considering that the lake is clearly of volcanic
origin, with no outlet, and in close proximity to the volcano of the
same name, this is a little remarkable. Most lakes of this character are
more or less impregnated with saline materials.
The view of the lake, and the volcano rising on the opposite shore, from
the place where we were seated, was singularly novel and beautiful.
Above us towered a gigantic cebia, festooned with vines, amongst which a
company of monkeys were scrambling, chattering, and grimacing.
Occasionally one would slip down the long, rope-like tendrils of the
vines, scold vigorously for a moment, and then, as if suddenly alarmed,
scramble up again amongst the branches. The girls said they were
specially indignant at us because we were “blancos,” and we had
afterwards the most conclusive, if not the most savory, evidence of
their dislike, which it would be indelicate to explain. Suffice it to
say, we registered a vow to return the next day with our guns, and teach
the ill-bred mimics better manners.
The cliffs which wall in the lake resemble the Palisades on the Hudson
river, but are much higher, and destitute of the corresponding masses of
debris at the base. The early Spanish chroniclers speak of them as a
“thousand fathoms” high; later travellers have changed the fathoms to
yards, but even that is probably an exaggeration. We had no means of
determining the question, and wouldn’t have gone down again, after once
regaining the upper earth, to have solved it a thousand times. The
descent was mere _bagatelle_, but the ascent one of those things which
answer for a lifetime, and leave no desire for repetition. We reached
the upper cross after a most wearisome scramble, only fit for monkeys to
undertake, and sat down on the last flight of stone steps, wholly
exhausted, covered with perspiration, and our temples throbbing from the
exertion, as if they would burst. The _aguadoras_, accustomed to it from
infancy, seemed to suffer almost as much as ourselves, and as they
passed the cross, made its sign in the usual manner, in acknowledgment
of their safe return.
All the water for domestic purposes is thus painfully brought up from
the lake. During the “_invierno_” the rain is collected in tanks, or
ponds, in the courts of the principal houses, for the use of the horses
and cattle; but when this supply becomes exhausted, as it does towards
the close of the dry season, the water for their use has also to be
obtained here. An attempt had been made to cut a path for mules down the
face of the cliff, but it had failed. About two leagues from Masaya,
however, the people had met with better success, and there is now a
place where animals, with some difficulty, can reach the lake. There are
a number of towns, besides Masaya, which obtain their water from the
same source. These towns existed, and the same practice prevailed,
before the Conquest, when the country was tenfold more populous than
now. Water-carrying seems to have always been one of the principal
institutions of this section of country, and as there are no streams,
and never will be, it is likely to remain about the only enduring one,
or until some enterprising Yankee shall introduce a grand forcing pump,
worked, perhaps, by volcanic power—for, having made the lightning a
“common carrier,” I do not see why volcanoes shouldn’t be made to earn
their living!
Oviedo has described this lake as it was in 1529, and it will be seen
that it has little changed since then. His estimate of the height of the
cliffs surrounding it, about one thousand feet, is probably not far from
the truth.
“Another very remarkable lake is found in this province, although it
cannot be compared, in extent, with _Cocibolca_ (Nicaragua). The water
is much better. It is called the lake of _Lendiri_ (Nindiri or
Masaya), and the principal cazique, who lives on its banks, bears the
same name. This lake is about three leagues from Granada, but they are
so long that we may safely call them four. I arrived there on St.
James’ day, July 25, 1529, and stopped with Diego Machuca, the same
gentleman of whom I have spoken heretofore. I was well received and
hospitably entertained, and I went with him to visit this lake, which
is a very extraordinary one. To reach it, we had to take a road, the
descent of which is so rapid that it should be called rather a
stairway than a road. Adjoining it we saw a round, high mountain, on
the summit of which is a great cavity, from which issues a flame as
brilliant but stronger and more continuous than that of Etna, or Mount
Gibel, in Sicily. It is called the Volcano of Masaya. Towards the
south an arid and open slope extends to the shores of the lake; but on
the other sides, the lake is shut in by walls, which are very steep
and difficult of descent. I beheld a path, as I was led along, the
steepest and most dangerous that can be imagined; for it is necessary
to descend from rock to rock, which appear to be of massive iron, and
in some places absolutely perpendicular, where ladders of six or seven
steps have to be placed, which is not the least dangerous part of the
journey. The entire descent is covered with trees, and is more than
one hundred and thirty fathoms before reaching the lake, which is very
beautiful, and may be a league and a half both in length and breadth.
Machuca, and his cazique, who is the most powerful one in the country,
told me that there were, around the lake, more than twenty descents
worse than this by which we had passed, and that the inhabitants of
the villages around, numbering more that one hundred thousand Indians,
came here for water. I must confess that, in making the descent, I
repented more than once of my enterprise, but persisted, chiefly from
shame of avowing my fears, and partly from the encouragement of my
companions, and from beholding Indians loaded with an aroba and a half
of water, (nearly 40 lbs.,) who ascended as tranquilly as though
travelling on a plain. On reaching the bottom, I plunged my hand into
the water, and found it so warm that nothing but intense thirst could
have induced me to drink it. But when it is carried away, it soon
cools, and becomes the best water in the world to drink. It seems to
me that this lake must be on a level with the fire that burns in the
crater of Masaya, the name of which, in the Chorotegan language,
signifies the burning mountain. But one species of fish, as small as a
needle, is found here; they are cooked in omelets. The Indians esteem
the water very good and healthful, and when they go down, are sure to
bathe in it. I asked the cazique why they did not bring fish from
other places and put in it? He replied that they had done so several
times, but the water rejected them, and they died, diffusing a fetid
odor, and corrupting the water. Among the descents, there was one
formed of a single ladder of ropes from top to bottom. As there is no
water for several leagues around, and the country is fertile, they put
up with the inconvenience, and obtain their supply from this lake.”
The little fishes found here are the same with those called _sardines_
at Managua, and which I have described in another place.
It was dusk when we returned to the plaza, which was now filled with
people, presenting the most animated appearance that it is possible to
conceive. It was market evening, and every one who had aught to buy or
to sell, was on the ground, exhibiting his wares, or in search of what
he wanted. I have said that Masaya is distinguished for its
manufactures, and we now had the opportunity of learning their variety
and extent. Upon one side of the plaza stood mules loaded with grass or
sacate, wood carefully split and bound up in bundles like faggots,
maize, and the more bulky articles of consumption. Near by were carts
overflowing with oranges, melons, aguacates, jocotes, onions, yucas,
papayas, and the thousand blushing, luscious fruits and vegetables of
the country, going at prices which we regarded as absolutely ruinous,
while las vendedoras chanted:
“Tengo narangas, papayas, jocotes,
Melones de agua, de oro, zapotes,
Quieren á comprar?”
“I have oranges, papayas, jocotes,
Melons of water, of gold,[28] and zapotes,
Will you buy?”
-----
Footnote 28:
Musk melons, or melones almizcleños.
-----
Here were women seated on little stools beside snow-white sheets, or in
the centre of a _cordon_ of baskets, heaped with cacao or coffee,
starch, sugar, and the more valuable articles of common use; here a
group with piles of hats of various patterns, hammocks, cotton yarn,
thread of pita, native blankets, petates, and the other various articles
which Yankees call “dry goods;” here another group, with water jars,
plates, and candlesticks of native pottery; there a _sillero_ or saddler
exposed the products of his art, the _zapatero_ cried his shoes, the
_herrero_ his machetes, bits for horses, and other articles of iron;
girls proclaimed their dulces, boys shouted parrots and monkeys, and in
the midst of all a tall fellow stalked about bearing a wooden-clock from
Connecticut, in his arms, gaudily painted, with the picture of the sun
on the dial, which seemed to tip us a familiar wink as I inquired the
price. Unfortunate inquiry! “Quarenta pesos; barato, barato, muy
barato!” “Forty dollars; cheap, cheap, very cheap!” And the wretch
followed us everywhere with that abominable clock. “Sir,” said I at
last, “I make clocks, and will bring one here and sell it for five
dollars, if you do not stop your noise!” Whereupon he marched off, still
crying, “Un relox esplendidisimo, quiera á comprar!” Wherever we passed,
we were stunned with the mercaders, who fairly hustled us, in their
anxiety to thrust their various wares full in our faces. The hackmen at
a steamboat landing could not be worse. Directly the alcalde, who had
gone off to collect his official associates, rejoined us; and then,
amidst the bustle of the market, we had ten minutes of laborious bowing
and speechifying, much to the edification of the people, no doubt, who
piled themselves up around us, full twenty deep. I had been enjoying
myself mightily, but all was done for now, and leaving the busy scene of
which I would gladly have seen more, I moved off to our quarters.
Our proposed host had returned, and received us almost civilly. He was a
dark, saturnine looking man, and evidently not given to hospitality. We
nevertheless got a very good supper, none the less acceptable because of
our visit to the lake on the top of a horseback ride of sixty miles that
day. We had not finished before Señor Jauregui trotted up to the door.
He had heard where we were, and had come directly to our quarters. I
thought he was better received than we had been, but the difference was
not more than between cool and cold. I made a kind of apology for my
desertion of the Señor, which was very politely received; but I hope it
was more satisfactory to him than it was to me.
During the evening I hired some mozos to go to the Indian Pueblos of
Jinotepec and Nindiri, to bring me next morning the oldest Indians who
could be found, retaining any knowledge of the language originally
spoken here, with the view of procuring a brief vocabulary. The rest of
the evening was spent in inquiring about antiquities, and in listening
to the family history of the Señora of the mansion, who, besides keeping
a _tienda_ in one corner of the house, had the honor of being sister of
a late minister of the country in Europe, once Secretary of the
Treasury, but who just now did not stand in the highest favor with
Government or people. How much the fact of this relationship had to do
with my reception, it is hardly worth the while to conjecture. The
family history was not the most entertaining to weary travellers, and
having a keen remembrance of the table at Matearas, and catching
glimpses of inviting curtained beds in the inner rooms, I made no
efforts to disguise my _ennui_. Finally, I plainly suggested that it was
bed time. Our host took a miserable candle, but instead of leading to
the inviting curtained beds aforesaid, marched us out into the corridor,
to a kind of outbuilding at one extremity, with a rickety door, a single
little window, unpaved floor, and mildewed walls. Here were two dirty
hide beds, upon the headboards of which some chickens were roosting.
There was not an article of furniture in the room; not a rag of clothing
on the beds. He stuck the candle against the wall, and was about
departing, when I called him by name. He turned round, and I looked him
full in the face for a moment, and then told him “go!” He really had the
decency to blush! Ben made up a kind of bed with the saddles and
blankets, and spite of all discomforts I slept soundly and well. I was
up early to enjoy the delicious air of the morning, and strolled out
into the silent streets, and for half a mile up one of the avenues, to a
small picturesque church in a little square, surrounded by a high cactus
hedge, and filled with magnificent, ancient palms. The church was a
quaint structure, and on a slab sunk in the wall of the façade was an
inscription, of which I could only make out the words, “en el año 1684.”
It had been long abandoned, and a flock of silent zopilòtes were perched
on the roof, with wings half expanded to catch the breeze of the
morning. The area around it was now used as a cemetery, and kept
scrupulously neat and free from weeds.
Upon my return to the house, I found the Commissioner and the breakfast
waiting. We had the table all to ourselves in the corridor, and in the
intervals of his masticatory exercises, Don Felipe favored me with his
private opinion of our host, which coincided wonderfully with my own. He
also produced a letter, in a very confidential way, which he begged I
would forward to Leon, as it contained a full exposure of the treatment
to which we had been subjected; but which, it afterwards turned out,
related to certain political movements of doubtful propriety. And as he
mounted his horse to depart, he whispered in my ear, with the air of a
man vindicating the national reputation for hospitality, that he had
paid the bill for the party. I, of course, could only bow my
acknowledgments, and with a “buena viaje,” the Commissioner rode off.
The next time I saw him, three or four months later, a file of soldiers
was marching him through the streets of Leon, a proscribed man, under
arrest for treason!
Up to the departure of the Commissioner, I had been in doubt as to my
position in the house, whether I was a paying guest or otherwise, and
had in consequence put up with many things little agreeable to my
feelings. I now felt relieved, and made a number of very imperative if
not necessary orders, by way of compensating myself for lost time, and
getting the worth of my money. Ben caught the spirit, and instead of
attending to our animals himself, went through double the fatigue in
making the servants of the house do the drudgery, treating them at the
same time to a variety of forcible epithets, besides indulging in some
reflections on their maternal ancestry.
Before eight o’clock the Indians whom I had sent for made their
appearance, and squatted down in the corridor. Amongst them was a
female, a little withered creature, with only a blanket around her
middle, who seemed to know more than all the rest, and who was as prompt
as an ambitious school-boy in replying to my questions. This annoyed her
husband greatly, who, not content with berating her for what he called
her impertinence, would have administered practical reproof, had he not
been kept in check by our presence. “Ah, señor,” he said, “this woman
has been so all her life! Heaven help me!” and he lifted his eyes and
crossed himself. With great difficulty I filled out my blank vocabulary,
and dismissed my swarthy visitors, giving an extra real or two to the
woman, who gratefully volunteered to visit Leon, if I required further
information.
I had heard of a ravine not far from Masaya, in which there were
inscribed rocks, “piedras labradas,” and my official guide of the
preceding evening undertook to lead us to the place. We went down the
same broad avenue towards the lake, but before reaching it, turned to
the left, and passing through luxuriant fields of yucas and tobacco,
along the edge of the precipice, came at last to a hollow, where stood
the hydraulic wonder of Masaya, called, _par excellence_, “La Maquina,”
the machine. It was a very simple and very rude apparatus for elevating
water from the lake. The water jars were placed in sacks attached to an
endless rope, connected with a pulley below, and revolving on a wheel or
drum, turned by horse power above. The cliff here was lower than at any
other point, and for half the distance to the water absolutely
precipitous. Below, the fallen rocks and the earth washed from the
ravine had formed an inclined plane, up which the jars were brought on
men’s shoulders. The proprietor of the Maquina, who seemed exceedingly
proud of his achievement, told me that the machine raised the jars as
fast as eight active men could bring them to the foot of the precipice.
The water was emptied into a large trough hollowed from a single tree,
and here the proprietors of the town watered their animals, at a certain
rate per week. The whole affair was an experiment, and he was not yet
certain that it would succeed, because of the opposition of the
aguadoras, who regarded it as a flagrant innovation on their immemorial
privileges. He concluded by inquiring if we had similar contrivances in
“El Norte” and seemed very complacent when I assured him that there was
nothing of the kind in the whole extent of our country. The Maquina
stood at the mouth of the ravine of which we were in search. We entered,
and proceeded up its narrow bed, shut in by walls of rock, and
completely arched over with trees, for about a quarter of a mile. Here
the face of the rock upon the left side was comparatively smooth, and
literally covered with figures rudely cut in outline. A few were still
distinct, but most were so much obliterated that they could not be made
out with any degree of satisfaction. Many were covered with the fallen
debris, and the earth which the rains had brought down; and still others
were carved so high up on the precipitous rocks, that their character
could not be ascertained. They covered the face of the cliffs for more
than a hundred yards, and consisted chiefly of rude representations of
animals and men, with some ornamented and perhaps arbitrary figures, the
significance of which is now unknown. Figs. 1, 2 of the “_Sculptured
Rocks of Masaya_,” exhibit the principal outlines upon the first section
to which we came, and Figs. 3, 4 those upon the second. Upon the latter
there seems to have been an attempt at delineating the sun in two
places, and perhaps also to record some event, for it is a plausible
supposition that the straight marks on the upper section of Figure 3
were intended for numerals. The principal right hand figure of this
section seems to have been designed to represent a shield, arrows, or
spears, and the _xiuatlatli_, or aboriginal instrument for throwing
spears, which are frequently grouped in similar manner in the Mexican
paintings. The principal figure in the inferior section is evidently
intended to represent a monkey. In respect to the other figures, the
reader is at liberty to form his own conjectures. Rocks inscribed in
very much the same manner, are scattered all over the continent, from
the shores of New-England to Patagonia. Most, if not all of them, are
the work of savage tribes, and seem generally designed to commemorate
events of greater or less importance. They are however far too rude to
be of much archæological value; and have little interest except as
illustrating the first steps in a system of pictorial representation
which it is supposed subsequently became refined into a hieroglyphical,
and finally into an alphabetical system.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
[Illustration:
FIG. 4.
SCULPTURED ROCKS AT MASAYA.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is some reason for believing that this ravine was regarded as a
sacred place; a hypothesis which derives a certain degree of support
from the seclusion and gloom of the spot, where the rays of the sun
seldom reach, or reach but for a moment when the wind parts the verdure
which shadows over it like a tent. On the right of Fig. 4 will be
observed a flight of rude steps cut in the rock, indicated by the letter
_a_. These lead to a shelf in the cliff, about three paces broad, at the
back of which the rock again abruptly rises to the height of more than a
hundred feet. Upon this shelf, and immediately above the figure which I
have supposed to represent an ape, is what is called “el Baño,” the
Bath. It is a rectangular excavation in the rock, nearly eight feet
long, four broad, and eighteen inches deep, cut with great smoothness,
the sides sloping regularly to the bottom. A groove about an inch and a
half deep, leading to the edge of the cliff, is cut entirely around this
basin, with the probable design of preventing the water from running
into it. The name given to this excavation throws no light upon its true
character, for it would be wholly inadequate for bathing purposes, even
if there were a supply of water near, which there is not. There seems to
be but one explanation of its origin, which has so much as the merit of
plausibility, viz., that it was, in some way, connected with the
superstitions of the aborigines, and devoted to sacred objects.
[Illustration: VIEW IN THE “QUEBRADA DE LAS INSCRIPCIONES.”]
To the left, and a little above the figure which I have supposed to
represent the sun, (_c_,) there is a pentagonal hole or shaft,
penetrating horizontally into the rock. It is about sixteen or eighteen
inches in diameter, and of an indefinite depth. I thrust a pole into it
for upwards of twenty feet. The sides are perfectly regular and smooth.
Our guide pointed out to me one similar, some distance off, in another
part of the ravine. It was, however, not more than five or six inches in
diameter, and occurred so high up on the cliff that I could not
ascertain its depth. The rock is basaltic or trachytic, and very hard. I
am not aware that such openings are found in this kind of rock; but
nevertheless suppose that those under notice are natural. Our guide
insisted that they were artificial, and said the Indians have a
tradition that they lead to subterranean chambers. I cannot describe
them better than by saying that they appeared to be the matrices from
which gigantic crystals had been withdrawn.
[Illustration]
Besides the figures represented in the plates, there were many isolated
ones, at various places on the rocks, among which those engraved above
were several times repeated. Our guide also told us that there were
other rocks, having figures both painted and sculptured upon them, at
several points around the lake, but we could not ascertain the precise
locality of any except those before us. Near a place called Santa
Catrina, I was informed, there is a large rock covered with figures in
red paint, like those at Nihapa, representing men and women dancing, and
playing upon instruments of music. I had, however, no opportunity of
ascertaining how far the account coincided with the facts, but have no
doubt that it was somewhat exaggerated. The man at the Maquina also told
me about what he called “stone vases,” which were to be found below the
cliffs, at the edge of the lake, a league distant from where we now
were. Upon questioning him as to their character, I ascertained that
they were kettle-shaped excavations in rocks lying on the shore. He said
they were now used to receive leather for tanning, and were probably
originally devoted to a similar purpose.
It was late when we returned to Masaya, but as the moon was in its first
quarter, I resolved to ride to Granada that evening. So we despatched a
cup of chocolate (for which I paid the lady, with the distinguished
connections, a dollar and a half) and mounted our horses just as the sun
was sinking behind the volcano of Masaya. I hired a mozo in the plaza to
ride ahead and put us in the right path,—a precaution, the necessity of
which will appear when I say that foot and mule paths diverge in a
thousand directions from every principal town, all so nearly alike that
it is impossible for the stranger to tell one from another. We met
hundreds of Indians, of both sexes, young and old, coming in from the
fields, each bearing a small load of wood, corn, plantains, or other
articles of consumption. They were all in excellent humor, and saluted
us gayly. By-and-by the night fell, and except an occasional straggler,
we had the path to ourselves. Now we wound along in deep dells and
ravines, where it was so dark that we could not see each other, and anon
emerged into the narrow open savannahs, of which I have elsewhere
spoken, smiling under the soft light of the crescent moon. The paths
were so numerous, that, after puzzling myself into a state of
profoundest confusion, in attempting to keep the broadest and most
frequented, I left the selection entirely to my horse. Where we should
bring up was a matter of uncertainty; our only landmark was the volcano
of Momobacho, and while that was kept to the right, I knew we could not
be greatly out of our way. Our horses were fresh, the evening was cool,
and forest and savannah, light and shade, seemed to float past us like
the silent scenery of a dream. That ride was a poetical episode of
existence, as perfect in its kind as the morning passage along the
shores of Lake Managua, with which it contrasted so strongly. Here all
was dim and calm and silent, deep shadows and mellow light; there the
great sun ruled in his strength, the leaping waters, the music of wind
and wave, the songs of birds, man and beast, all was life and action,
and the human soul which swelled to the exuberant harmonies of the one,
subsided to the holy cadences of the other. Happy is he who truly
sympathizes with Nature, and whose heart beats responsively to her
melodies. One hour of such communion with our great and genial Mother!
How all the struggles of life, the petty aims and ambitions of men,
dwindle before the comprehensive majesty of her teachings!
[Illustration: CHURCH OF SAN FRANCISCO, GRANADA.]
As we rode on, I tried in vain to recognize the features of the country,
and the suspicion that we had missed our way passed into a certainty,
when, emerging suddenly from a long reach of gloomy forest, we found
ourselves upon the precipitous banks of the “Laguna de Salinas.” The
declining moon shone slantingly upon that deep Avernian lake, with its
cliffs casting the shadow of their frown over more than half its
surface. I paused for a moment to look upon the gloomy picture, and then
turned off into the circuitous camino real, which we had now reached,
for Granada. A brisk ride of little more than half an hour brought us to
the arsenal, which stands like a sentinel on the outmost limits of the
city. It no longer bristled with armed men, as it had done when we
passed it six months before; and the Jalteva which was then deserted and
silent, was now all life and animation. Light shone out from the open
doors, and the merry laughter of children mingled with the tinkling of
guitars, and the not over melodious, nasal sentimentalities of lovesick
swains. The entire city wore a very different aspect from that which it
had borne at the time of our arrival. The gloom, not to say terror,
which then oppressed all classes, had passed away; and as I rode through
the streets and witnessed the apparent absence of want, of care for the
present, or concern for the future, I could not resist the impression
that probably no equal number of people in the world enjoyed more real
happiness than these. With the mass of men, those whose higher powers of
enjoyment have never been developed, and whose happiness depends chiefly
upon the absence of physical wants, or upon the ease with which they may
be gratified, the life of the people of Granada must come very near to
their ideal of human existence. And he will be a bold speculator, who
having seen man under the various aspects, political or otherwise, in
which the world presents him, shall deny the truth of the popular idea;
and a bold innovator who, in vain aspirations for what he conceives
necessary for the popular welfare, shall disturb this illusion, if
illusion it be, which the mass of mankind so fondly cherish.
I had engaged quarters in advance, and rode to them at once. A large
sala was ready for our reception, and in less than ten minutes a cup of
foaming chocolate was smoking upon the sideboard. Our first visitor was
our old friend, Dr. S., who brought with him another American, a bluff
sailor from Albany, who, by a singular series of vicissitudes, had found
his way to Granada. He had shipped from New York for Rio, thence to
Callao, where the crew was paid off, and the vessel sold. The world was
all agog for California, and Jack, with his brother tars, also caught
the fever. But how to get there was a question. Every vessel was
overcrowded, and passages were at a rate far beyond the ability of any
of them to pay. In this dilemma eight of their number clubbed together
and purchased an open whale-boat, which they victualled and watered to
the best of their ability, and, with a daring eminently American,
started on a voyage of upwards of four thousand miles. They put in once
or twice to procure supplies, and had accomplished one-half of the
distance, when they were overtaken by a storm, dismasted, and capsized,
and with the loss of two of their number, after drifting for four days,
with neither food nor drink, at the mercy of the winds and currents,
were finally driven upon an unknown coast. Here a few wild fruits, some
birds, and shell-fish, supplied the immediate wants of nature. Repairing
their disabled boat, so far as they were able, without clothing, arms,
or utensils of any sort, they coasted painfully along the shore for two
days. On the third day they found a few Indians diving for pearls, who,
alarmed at their appearance, fled into the forest. One was overtaken,
and through the medium of some Spanish, little understood upon one side
and still less upon the other, they ascertained that they were in the
Bay of Culebra, in the department of Guanacaste, the southern district
of Nicaragua. The region along the coast was uninhabited, but after much
difficulty they succeeded in reaching the little village of Santa Cruz,
in the interior. Here a division of property, consisting of two old
silver watches, and twelve dollars in cash, took place, and the party
separated, each with four dollars wherewith to clothe himself, and
commence the world again. Jack, who was something of a carpenter, tried
to mend his fortunes by mending the houses of the people, but soon found
that houses good or bad were of little consequence, and so hired himself
to a vaquero who was about starting with a drove of mules for the city
of Nicaragua. The fare was bad, and the labor incredible, and after
three weeks of suffering in the hot sun by day, and in pestilent damps
at night, his feet lacerated by sharp stones, his body torn by thorns
and inflamed from the bites of insects, with a raging fever which made
him delirious for hours together, and caused his hair to drop in
handfuls from his head,—in this plight, poor Jack reached Nicaragua. And
here, to crown his miseries, his rascally employer not only refused to
pay him, but, while he was lying delirious in an outhouse, robbed him of
his little store of money. When the fit had passed, he staggered out
into the streets and towards the fields, muttering incoherently. The
children were frightened by his haggard looks and bloodshot eyes, and
fled as he reeled along. Fortunately, he was seen by one of the
citizens, who not only brought him to his own house, but sent at once
for Dr. S., then accidentally in the city, who attended the poor fellow
with characteristic humanity and unwearied assiduity, day and night,
until he had recovered, and then took him to his own house in Granada.
He was still weak, but fast regaining his strength, and I listened to
his story, told with the bluff heartiness of the sailor, with an
interest which the art of the novelist could not heighten. I had the
satisfaction, a couple of months later, of securing his passage on board
a French vessel bound to that land of promise to which he still looked
forward with unwavering hope; and since my return to the United States,
I have received a letter from him, modestly announcing that he has
amassed six thousand dollars,—the sum which “he was bound to win or
die,” and as one-third owner and mate of a little brig, was on the eve
of starting for the Sandwich Islands on a trading venture!
Such, in this new land, is the course of Fortune. Jack, my good friend,
may God speed thee, and may thy success be commensurate with thy honest
deservings! I need not wish thee more than that!