LA UNION—OYSTERS—AMERICAN BOOKS—CHIQUIRIN—FRENCH FRIGATE “LA
SÉRIEUSE”—ADMIRAL HORNBY OF THE ASIA 84—FRENCH AND ENGLISH WAR
VESSELS—ASCENT OF THE VOLCANO OF CONCHAGUA—A MOUNTAIN
VILLAGE—PECULIARITIES OF THE INDIANS—LAS TORTILLERAS—VOLCANO OF SAN
MIGUEL—FIR FORESTS—AN ANCIENT VOLCANIC VENT—THE CRATER OF
CONCHAGUA—PEAK OF SCORLÆ—VIEW FROM THE VOLCANO—ENVELOPED IN
CLOUDS—PERILOUS DESCENT—YOLOLTOCA—PUEBLO OF CONCHAGUA AGAIN—AN
OBSEQUIO—INDIAN WELCOME—SEMANA SANTA—DEVILS—SURRENDER OF
GUARDIOLA—SAN SALVADOR—ITS CONDITION AND RELATIONS.
When morning broke, we were entering the inner bay of La Union, above
which towers the great volcano of Amapala, or Conchagua. Between us and
the shore, at the road of Chiquirin, where a clear mountain stream comes
down from the volcano, and forms a little bay, were the British
ship-of-the-line “Asia,” of 84 guns, and the French frigate “La
Sérieuse.” The first was there on the usual semi-annual visit, for
enforcing trumpery claims, and the second to watch the “Asia” and the
course of events in this quarter. Its officers and crew, although it was
scarcely daylight, were engaged in making soundings, and other
observations on the depth, capacity, etc., of the Bay.
The Bay was still, and two hours of steady pulling brought us in front
of La Union, which is a small place, deriving its entire importance from
being the port of the city of San Miguel, twelve leagues in the
interior, and the most important commercial point in all Central
America. Excepting three or four large bodegas or ware-houses, close to
the water, belonging to the Government, and devoted to the reception of
goods in bond, there was not a single object worthy of remark in the
place. It nevertheless had an air of thrift; and a long dock or pier,
then under construction, and designed to facilitate the landing and
shipping of cargoes, showed that there was here rather more enterprise
than we had yet discovered in the country.
Col. Caceres, the Commandante, had made us out with his glass, and was
on the dock, together with my old friends, Dr. Drivon and Mons. Mercher,
to receive and welcome us. He was a fine appearing officer, accomplished
in manner, and in his tasteful undress uniform of dark green, might have
been taken for an American. He had the good sense to omit parading his
little garrison, and led us at once to his house, the best in the place,
where we were introduced to his wife, Doña Maria, a tall, intellectual,
well educated woman, whose cordial welcome made us quite at home. This
lady, during my stay, was unremitting in her kindnesses, and, with her
two sweet little daughters, has left an impression upon my mind as
pleasing as it is ineffaceable.
The apartments which were assigned to me bore the best evidences that
our host and hostess were far above the common mark, in point of
education and accomplishments. A piano and a variety of music books
occupied a part of the sala, and in my private chamber was a library
well stocked with standard works; amongst them I observed Prescott’s
Mexico, Irving’s Columbus, Cooper’s Spy, a translation of Livingston’s
Code, and Spanish Lives of Washington and Dr. Franklin. The “Espy,” of
the lamented Cooper, I may mention, seems to be better known in Spanish
America than any other work in the English language. I found it
everywhere; and when I subsequently visited the Indian pueblo of
Conchagua, the first alcalde produced it from an obscure corner of the
cabildo, as a very great treasure. He regarded it as veritable history,
and thought “Señor Birch” a most extraordinary personage, and a model
guerillero.
Dr. Drivon, who had recently returned from California, in high disgust,
was established at the Doña Antonia’s, but a square distant; and as he
had often praised the oysters found in the Bay of Fonseca, I hinted to
him, before we had fairly got ashore, that I was ready to pass judgment
on them. Fortunately, the Indians had brought in a fresh supply that
morning, and he sent round a sack-full, which were served for breakfast.
They were small, compact, and salt, and we ate them with the utmost
relish. All hands concurred in saying that they were quite equal to the
best “New-Haveners,” and the value of the Gulf of Fonseca became
straightway doubled in our eyes. And then they were so cheap! As many as
a man could carry for a _medio_, or six cents! We had them three times a
day while we stayed in La Union, and before we left, I instructed the
Doña Maria in the mysteries of pickling them, and she kindly sent me a
little jar, by the Government courier, every week during the whole of
the time I remained in the country. The oysters at all other places on
the coast are large, soft, and insipid. Why they should differ so widely
here, is a question for naturalists; I vouch only for the fact.
During the afternoon we were waited upon by the Lieutenant of “La
Sérieuse,” with an invitation from the commander to visit his frigate,
which we agreed to do on the following day, and accordingly, next
morning we set out, accompanied by a guide and Mons. Mercher. This
gentleman had been an officer under the Empire, and had resided in this
country for thirty years, without becoming a whit less a Frenchman, and
was just as ready to hurrah for a President as an Emperor, so that
thereby he went against England and British aggrandisement, and for the
glorification of “la belle France!” I had the Commandante’s own horse, a
noble animal, full of spirit, but so gentle that a child could manage
him. M., as usual, set the town in a roar, by tumbling from his mule in
the principal street; a feat which, by constant practice, he had come to
perform without suffering any damage. It was twelve miles by water to
Chiquirin, where the vessels were anchored, but only six overland. Our
road was nothing more than a mule path, skirting the bluff shores, and
winding over the broken spurs of the volcano, amongst stones and rocks,
and fallen trees, which it at first seemed impossible to surmount. After
a wild scramble, we reached some ranchos in the woods, which were called
the Pueblecita de Chiquirin, where we could hear the thunder of the surf
below us. We now descended rapidly, and soon came upon a broad, sandy
beach, skirting a small harbor, within which the “Asia” and “La
Sérieuse” were anchored. A bright mountain stream, leaping amongst the
black rocks, here plunged into the harbor, and on its banks, beneath the
tall trees, the crew of the Asia had erected a temporary forge. One
party of sailors was filling water-casks, and another was engaged in
towing off some cows to the ships; altogether it was a busy and
exhilarating scene. We were descried from “La Sérieuse,” and in a few
minutes the Captain came in his gig to conduct us on board. We embarked
with some difficulty; for, although the little bay is well sheltered
from winds, it is so near one of the entrances of the Gulf, that the
lateral swell is hardly less than the direct. We spent some hours on
board the frigate, which was a model of neatness and order. The armament
comprised all the latest improvements, and the crew was composed
entirely of young and vigorous men. After a lunch, which was despatched
with patriotic and fraternal accompaniments on both sides, I concluded
an arrangement with the Captain touching an ascent, the following day,
to the bare summit of the volcano, which pierced the clouds above our
heads.
I thought it but civil to pay the Admiral a visit, and so waving all
etiquette, and the captain favoring me with his boat, I started, under
the prescribed salute, for the Asia. The Admiral received us cordially;
and conducted us into his cabin, where we found his wife and her sister,
and two of the admiral’s own daughters—all refined and accomplished
ladies, with whom we spent a most agreeable hour. It was a real luxury
to hear our mother tongue again, from a woman’s lips—and I regretted
that a previous engagement at La Union prevented me from accepting the
Admiral’s kind invitation to spend the night on board. The ladies were
bitten with ornithology, and had a most brilliant collection of stuffed,
tropical birds, which they were anxious to augment. So it was agreed
that they should come up some day of the week to La Union, where I
engaged to provide prog and poultry for the party.
The Asia was a great, cumbersome vessel, overstocked with men and cows
and chickens, and looked like a store ship. Its guns were of the ancient
fashion, of light calibre, and as compared with the heavy 64’s and 32’s
of “La Sérieuse,” quite childish and behind the age. As I glanced
through its decks, and contrasted its old, heavy, stupid-looking sailors
with the young, quick, and intelligent crew of the Frenchman, I could
not resist the impression that England’s grasp on the trident was
growing feebler every day, and that another war would wrest it from her
hands for ever. The commercial marine of the United States now exceeds
hers; her vessels are beaten in every sea in the peaceful rivalry of
trade; and France is preparing, if indeed she is not prepared, to more
than regain the glory lost at Trafalgar.
Admiral Hornby was, however, the model of the frank and hearty sailor;
and although I thought it was very small business for one of Nelson’s
men, and a Knight of Bath, to be engaged in bullying the poor devil
Governments of Central America, threatening them with blockades and the
Lord knows what else, if they did not prevent their editors from
“reflecting generally and particularly on the British government,”[40]
still, I was glad to meet him, and would have gone far out of my way to
have done him a service. He was confounded by the politics of Central
America, and well he might be. What little information he possessed, it
was evident enough, had been derived from English agents in the country,
who had resided here for many years, and had become as essentially
partisans as any of the natives—sharing in local and personal hates and
jealousies, and altogether burlesquing the offices which they filled. He
had been instructed that it was his duty to be particularly severe upon
Honduras, San Salvador, and Nicaragua, the only liberal States of the
old Republic, and unfortunately the only ones which had good harbors and
valuable islands to be seized in “behalf of Her Britannic Majesty.” But
thus far he had had but poor success in the objects of his visit.
Nicaragua had replied to his notes by enclosing a copy of that article
of its constitution guarantying the liberty of the press; Honduras had
flatly refused to have an unconstitutional treaty crammed down its
throat; and San Salvador had with equal decision declined to recognize
an obnoxious citizen, who claimed to be British Vice Consul, under a
commission from Mr. Chatfield. And in the end, the Admiral had to take
his departure, without having achieved anything beyond deepening the
hatred towards the British government—a hatred, unfortunately too well
founded, and the necessary result of a long series of insults and
aggressions.
-----
Footnote 40:
“A series of articles have appeared from time to time in the papers of
Nicaragua, which reflect generally and particularly upon the British
government, and its respectable representative, Mr. Chatfield, as also
holding up the English nation, collectively and individually, to
public indignation. Such language is improper and unjust, and I bring
it thus officially before your government, believing that it will make
use of its influence over the public press to restrain, in future,
_all offences_ of this nature. * * It is my intention to return to
this port in a few days, when I expect to find a satisfactory answer
to this communication.”—_Rear Admiral Hornby, to the Sect. of State of
Nicaragua, March 19, 1850._
“The press of Nicaragua has not held up the British nation
collectively or individually to public indignation, unless by the
simple announcement of such acts as have been committed in the port of
San Juan, in the island of Tigre, and elsewhere. Nothing can be cited
in proof of your charge; and the Supreme Director regrets, Sir, that
you should counsel him to commit an unlawful act, by attacking the
_liberty of the press_, which is guarantied in the most solemn manner
by the constitution of the State.”—_Reply of Señor Salinas, Sect. of
State, March 31, 1850._
-----
Our return to La Union was unmarked by a single incident worthy of
record, except the unsolicited presence of a couple of pumas, for a
moment, in our path; and the evening was devoted to preparations for
ascending the volcano. At about nine o’clock the Captain of “La
Sérieuse” arrived, and next morning, long before daylight, accompanied
by a soldier of the garrison carrying an immense alforgas, prepared by
the Doña Maria, we set out. We were not long in passing through the
town, and the chaparral which surrounds it; and then, striking into a
dark and ragged ravine, we commenced the ascent. As day dawned, I
observed with surprise that the path was broad and smooth; and we now
began to meet numbers of Indians, men and women, laden with fruit, corn,
and other commodities, coming down from the volcano. I was greatly
puzzled to account for any population in these rocky fastnesses, when
the path turned suddenly up the almost precipitous banks of the ravine,
and we found ourselves, a league and a half from the port, in the Indian
Pueblo of Conchagua. Its site is most remarkable. Here is a broad,
irregular shelf on the volcano’s side, the top, if I may so speak, of a
vast field of lava, which, many ages ago, flowed downward to the sea.
This shelf is covered with rocks thrown together in rough and frowning
heaps, to make room for the dwellings of the inhabitants, which are half
hidden by these rude pyramids. We wound some minutes through the crooked
streets, and then reached the plaza, a large area, in the centre of
which stands a low, picturesque church, built some time in the
seventeenth century. We could scarcely comprehend that in a land of
broad, fertile, and well-watered plains, a spot like this, rugged,
sterile, and without a single fountain, should have been selected as the
residence of any human being, much less of an entire community of two or
three thousand souls. Nothing but purposes of protection and defence
could account for the circumstance; and although a village may have
existed here before the Conquest, yet I am disposed to credit the vague
tradition which I afterwards heard, that a great portion of these
Indians formerly lived where La Union now stands, and on the islands of
the Gulf, and subsequently fled to this secluded spot to avoid the
cruelty of the bucaneers, who, from 1650, for more than half a century,
infested these shores. Here they seem resolved to remain, although every
drop of water for their use, except that caught from the clouds during
the rainy season, has to be brought for more than a league. The
Government of San Salvador has offered every inducement to them—lands,
exemption from taxation, and other privileges—to settle at the port, but
they have steadily refused.
Although it was not yet sunrise, the town was active; and the whole
female population was busy with its task of grinding and preparing
tortillas for breakfast. Through the open doorways we caught glimpses of
the inmates at their work, as cheerful and contented there, on the
barren mountain side, as when the whole broad land was their own, and
from these rugged heights they offered their adorations to the monarch
Sun, the glorious emblem of their God.
Little patches of plantains, and some palm and fruit trees occupied the
narrow spaces between the heaps of rocks and the huts, and completed a
picture of primitive life, not less striking and beautiful, though less
luxuriant, than that of Nindiri. Our presence created quite a sensation;
and, fearful of an obsequio, I hurried our guide, and passed rapidly
through the village. Beyond, the road was more broken, and hundreds of
paths diverged from it in every direction. We soon came to clearings for
purposes of cultivation. Wherever there were a few square yards of soil,
the trees and bushes had been removed, and maize had been planted. There
were also some considerable openings, covered with stumps and fallen
trees, resembling those which the traveller constantly encounters on our
frontiers. They recalled to mind my border rambles, thousands of miles
to the northward; but I listened in vain for the solitudes to echo back
the clear, ringing blows of the settler’s axe.[41]
-----
Footnote 41:
The picturesque little town of Conchagua has suffered several
disasters since the time of my visit. In 1857-8, more than half of its
population was carried off by the cholera; lately (August, 1859), it
has been fearfully shaken by earthquakes. Its primitive church has
been prostrated, and huge rocks which impended over the village have
been thrown down, filling the little cleared fields, and crushing the
fragile structures of the people in their fall. The earthquakes which
caused this damage, and which also destroyed some buildings in the
port of La Union, are reported to have been more violent than those
which attended the eruption of Coseguina, in 1835. Serious
apprehensions were entertained that this volcano was again on the eve
of an eruption. Advices to the 2d of September (1859), report a
continuation of the shocks, and ominous symptoms of renewed activity
on the part of the volcano, which were observed as far as the city of
San Salvador, one hundred and fifty miles distant.
I may here mention, that Captain Sir Edward Belcher has fallen into a
singular mistake regarding the mountain of Conchagua. Notwithstanding
that it is one mass of scoriæ and igneous rocks, he seems indisposed
to accept it as a volcano!
-----
All around us were huge volcanic rocks, and we wound for two hours
through the labyrinthine ravines, dark with trees, constantly ascending,
but yet unable to see beyond the tangled verdure of the forest. Finally,
however, the trees became fewer, and at eight o’clock we had emerged
beyond the forests, and stood upon the grassy, scoriaceous slope of the
volcano. And although the summit seemed more distant than ever, yet our
position overlooked an almost interminable expanse of country. The Bay
of La Union was mapped at our feet, and we could trace its esteros,
gleaming like silver threads, amidst the level, green alluvions. To our
left was the broad valley of San Miguel, but it was concealed from view
by a mist, like an ocean of milk, above which, island-like, to
mid-heaven, towered the great volcano of San Miguel—with the exception
of Ometepec, the most regular in its outlines of any in Central America.
From its summit rose a plume of white smoke, opalescent in the sun.[42]
-----
Footnote 42:
The port of La Union is forty-five miles distant, in a right line,
from the volcano of Coseguina, and on the occasion of its eruption,
was deserted by the entire population, who fled in dismay to San
Miguel. The darkness was so great that they were obliged to carry
torches, which, however, gave no light, except for two or three yards
around them. The terrified inhabitants, some on foot and others
mounted, were followed by their equally terrified cattle, and even
wild beasts, tame with fear, joined in the unearthly procession, while
birds lit upon the travellers in affright, and would not be driven
away.
-----
We halted for a quarter of an hour in silent admiration, and then
resumed our course. We were on one of the bare ribs of the volcano, with
deep ravines on either side, up which the forests, reduced to a narrow
line of trees, extended for some distance farther. These spurs or ribs
of the mountain are covered with long, coarse grass, which gives them an
appearance of great smoothness; but it only conceals sharp, angular
rocks, and a treacherous scoriaceous soil. Our path here, therefore, was
more toilsome than in the forest; and as we advanced, the mules suffered
greatly. I had given the Captain his choice of animals at the start, and
he had selected a large, sleek, gentle mule, leaving me a little, black
macho, a villanous hard trotter, vicious, but tough as iron. The Captain
had kept ahead while we had a path, and seemed to have it very
comfortable; but now, when the ascent commenced in earnest, the black
macho left him far behind. The Captain spurred, and whipped, and
“sacre’d” in vain; his mule finally came to a dead halt. We were now at
the head of the ravines, whence the cone of the volcano rose sheer and
regular as the pyramids. Upon one side of our path, and five or six
hundred feet below us, was a belt of tall and beautiful fir trees,
amongst which we discovered, with our glasses, a party of Indians
collecting branches, wherewith to decorate the streets and churches,
during the Semana Santa. As we ascended, we had startled many deer, and
numbers of them now stood, with heads elevated and ears thrown forward,
contemplating us from a distance. There were also hundreds of wild
turkeys, and while the Captain was resting his mule, I pursued a flock
of them, and killed two, with as many discharges of my pistol; no great
feat, by the way, for they were so tame that I came within fifty feet of
them.
Again we started, and now the narrow path wound zigzag up the face of
the mountain, so that in riding along we could almost lay our hands on
the turn next above us. I let my macho take his course, and he picked
his way as unconcernedly as if traversing a plain. I only feared that
the indurated scoriæ might give way beneath his feet, and I shuddered,
as I glanced down the steeps, to think what would be the inevitable
result. And thus we toiled on, slowly and painfully, winding up slopes
which no human being could have ascended directly. Finally we reached a
spot where, some time or other, there had been a slide of the earth,
forming a narrow shelf; and here the Captain’s mule again came to a dead
halt. Whip nor spur could move him. Finally, however, I took hold of his
halter, and succeeded in leading him into the narrow path, when he went
on as before. At nine o’clock, we had reached the summit of the first
peak, and stood upon the edge of a great funnel-shaped hollow, lined
with grass, which had been an ancient vent. Its walls upon one side had
been broken down, and we could see, far below, the rough outlines of the
lava current which had flowed from it into the ocean. There were a
number of these vents at various points, but the crater was still above
us. In half an hour we reached its edge, and wound down its ragged side
to a broad plain at its bottom. It was an immense amphitheatre, walled
with precipitous cliffs. The eastern side was elevated, and covered with
a forest of beautiful pines; its western depressed, with a spring of
water at its lowest part, surrounded with a variety of trees and vines,
constituting a sort of jungle, much frequented, our guide told us, by
wild beasts. The rest of the area was covered with grass, now sere and
yellow from the long drought. It was a singular spot, with no horizon
but the rocky rim of the crater, and no view except above, where the sun
shone down blindingly from a cloudless sky. We stood still, and like the
pulsations of the earth’s great heart, we could hear the waters of the
Pacific beating at the base of the mountain. I thought of a Milton
prisoned here, face to face with heaven, listening to the deep
utterances of the ocean, and striking the strings of his awful lyre, to
the majestic measure of the sea!
“Let us go,” said the Captain with a shudder; “this is terrible.” We
scrambled out of the crater on the side opposite from where we entered,
towards a yet higher peak of scoriæ, connected by a narrow ridge with
the body of the mountain. Upon that peak, whose feet were planted in the
sea, the warder at the entrance of the Bay, there was a kind of look-out
established by the Government, with a flag-staff, and a series of
telegraphic signals, to convey intelligence to the port. This was the
point which we were most anxious to reach, and from whence I anticipated
being able to map out the entire Gulf. It may seem hardly possible, but
the narrow ridge connecting the two peaks was barely wide enough for a
mule path; it was like walking on the ridge of a house. The Captain
refused to ride along it, and in order to keep him company, I also
dismounted, and we proceeded on foot. It was past ten o’clock when we
reached the summit of the peak; but although almost exhausted by our
perhaps unnecessary exertions, we lost all sense of fatigue in the
magnificence and extent of the prospect, which was bounded only by the
great dividing ridge of the Cordilleras, looking like a faint cloud in
the distance, upon one hand, and by the ocean horizon upon the other.
The Gulf with its islands was revealed for its whole extent at a single
glance, and it seemed as if we could almost look into the great Lake of
Nicaragua, whose mountain-framed basin stretched away in illimitable
perspective.
At the foot of the flag-staff was a little hut, half excavated in the
earth, its roof heavily loaded with stones, to prevent it from being
swept away by the winds. Here we found a man, a broad-shouldered, merry
Indian, who was the watcher or sentinel, and who was greatly rejoiced to
receive us. He had been “observador” here for six years, and we were the
first _blancos_ who had ascended during that period. And he produced his
glass and made himself almost annoying in his zeal to point out to us
the features of interest surrounding the Gulf.
Meantime our guide reached us, with the mules and the alforgas. Amongst
our equipments was the flag of the United States, which was at once run
up to the top of the signal post and answered from the port and the
French frigate. “I accept the omen,” said the Captain gravely, and as I
then thought and still believe prophetically; “that flag will soon be
planted here _en permanence_, the symbol of dominion over two seas, and
of a power the greatest the world has ever seen.”
The peak on which we stood seemed to have been formed in great part of
scoriæ and other materials thrown out from the principal crater. It was
a sharp cone, and the rounded summit was not more than sixty feet
across. In fact, there was barely room for ourselves, the flag-staff,
the hut, and the mules. It was now midday, and the thermometer marked
only 68° of Fahrenheit, while at the same hour it stood at 86° at the
port, a difference of sixteen degrees.
We had been nearly six hours in ascending, and after the novelty of the
scene was a little over, we got beneath the hut, and helped ourselves to
the plentiful contents of our guide’s alforgas, and then, without
intending it, both fell asleep. I was awakened by the Captain, who
looked pinched, and chilly, and rising, found myself uncomfortably cold.
We crept outside; but in little more than an hour, everything had
undergone a total change. Above and around us the sun was shining
clearly, except when a thin rift of drizzling cloud, rapidly sweeping
by, half-hid us from each other’s view. But below and around us, there
was only a heaving ocean of milky white clouds—now swelling upwards to
our very feet, and then sinking down so as to reveal long reaches of the
bare mountain side. A current of sea air, saturated with moisture,
sweeping past, had encountered the volcano, and become partially
condensed in its cooler atmosphere. I asked the observador if it was
common, and he said it happened almost daily; but that sometimes the
wind was not strong enough to sweep the mist away, and then he had sat
here for hours, _muy triste_, very melancholy, in the gloom. It was then
an excellent time to pray, he added, with a laugh.
In an hour the mists had dissipated, and the view was again
unobstructed. And, having taken the bearings of the principal landmarks,
the Captain and myself, with the aid of the observador and our guide,
amused ourselves by loosening rocks, and starting them down the side of
the cone. They went leaping down, dashing the scoriæ on all sides, like
spray, in their bounds; and, when they reached the belt of forest, we
could see the trees bow down before them like grass before the mower’s
scythe. One of these rocks, which we started with difficulty, must have
weighed upwards of a ton; and we afterwards learned that it had been
dashed to pieces within only a quarter of a mile of the Bay of
Chiquirin.
At three o’clock, the observador having volunteered to show us a better
route, we started on our return. He took us by a path running laterally
down the side of the ridge connecting the two peaks to which I have
referred, so steep that we repented having undertaken it, but so narrow,
at the same time, as to render turning about impossible. In places my
macho braced his feet and slid down a hundred feet at a time. It was
“neck or nothing.” The Captain was behind, but how he got along I did
not stop to inquire. It was one of those occasions when every man looks
out for himself. After fifteen or twenty minutes of this kind of
progress, my hair was less disposed to the perpendicular, and I began to
have great faith in my macho. I was only nervous about my saddle girths.
In three-quarters of an hour, during which time we had descended more
than two thousand feet, we reached the head of one of the principal
ravines which furrow the mountain. Here was a narrow shelf, where was
built the hatto of Juan, the observador, and where his family resided.
Here, too, completely embowered amongst the trees, with a large
reservoir, fifty feet long, cut by the ancients in the rock, was a
copious spring, called Yololtoca; the ground all around it was paved
with flat stones, and the approaches were protected by masonry. I was
surprised to learn that it was from this spring that the inhabitants of
Conchagua obtained now, as they had from time immemorial, their
principal supply of water. It is fully two-thirds of the distance up the
volcano, and more than a league from the town. While we stood beside the
reservoir, to allow our mules to drink, a troop of girls came toiling up
a flight of steps near by. They were from the village, and, like the
aguadoras of Masaya, had little sacks strapped over their shoulders,
wherein to carry their water jars, when weary of supporting them on
their heads.
After resting a few minutes, we continued our descent. The path was now
wider and better, but in some places, where the feet of the aguadoras
had worn narrow steps in the rock, which the mules were obliged
scrupulously to follow, exceedingly difficult. An occasional fallen tree
obstructed our course, over which we had great trouble in forcing our
mules. But after a deal of excitement, and whipping and hallooing, half
an hour before sunset, we once more reached the village of Conchagua. As
we approached, we had observed a man, stationed on a high rock, with an
immense rattle, like those anciently used by watchmen in our cities. The
moment he saw us, he sprung it, and leaping down, from rock to rock,
disappeared in the direction of the town. Nearing the plaza, we saw the
result; men and women, all gayly dressed, were hurrying in that
direction, and there was evidently great excitement. At first, as this
was holy week, I thought some of its ceremonies were in progress; but
when I saw a couple of alcaldes, with heads uncovered, and holding aloft
their wands of office, advance to meet us, the awful truth that we had
unwittingly fallen into the jaws of an obsequio, was forced upon me. The
Captain rode up, in evident surprise, and inquired what I supposed the
Indians wanted. I professed ignorance. Meantime the alcaldes had planted
themselves in front of my macho, and one of them, without so much as “by
your leave,” had taken the bridle in his hands, while the other
commenced reading an order of the municipality, felicitating the
representative of the Great and Powerful Republic of El Norte on his
arrival in the loyal Pueblo of Conchagua, and inviting him to a
_convite_, which, he added in parenthesis, was then ready in the
cabildo; and concluding with “Dios, Union, Libertad!” and “Viva la
Republica del Norte!” In the latter the people all joined. I thanked
them in corresponding hyperbolical phrase, and then introduced to them
my friend, the Captain, as an officer of another great Republic;
whereupon they uttered another round of vivas,—not for the Republic of
France, but “El Amigo del Ministro del Norte!” This over, we were
marched, with an alcalde on each side, to the cabildo. It was a large
building, with a mud floor, and a double row of benches extending around
it, close to the wall. At one end was an elevated platform, upon which
were three or four elaborately carved and antiquated chairs and a desk,
where the alcaldes held their courts, and administered justice; and at
the other end a pair of stocks, wherein refractory criminals were
confined, when occasion required. Against the wall, above the seats of
the alcaldes, hung the fragments of an ancient flag; but no one could
tell me its history; it was “muy, muy antiguo!” very, very old.
In the centre of the apartment was a table for six; the Captain, the two
principal alcaldes, the bastonero or marshal, the cura, and myself. This
part of the obsequio was unobjectionable, and the distinguished guests
performed their parts with spirit, and to the great admiration of the
spectators. Commend me to an ascent of the volcano of Conchagua for an
appetite! Before we had half finished, it grew dark, and a dozen boys
holding torches were introduced and stationed on the alcalde’s platform.
There they stood like bronze statues, without moving, until we had
finished. It was the most extraordinary meal of my life; and I
experienced a singular sensation when I glanced around upon the swarthy,
earnest faces of the Indians, rank on rank, only half revealed by the
light of the torches, and reflected that here, in the volcanic
fastnesses of San Salvador, amongst a people in whose veins not a drop
of white blood flowed, the descendants of those who had fought against
Cortez and Alvarado, the name of an American was not only a shield of
security, but a passport to the rudest heart. It sounded strangely to
hear them talk of Washington as the political regenerator, not of his
own country alone, but of the continent and the world.
We returned to La Union by moonlight. During the day my companions,
according to arrangement, had started on their return to Nicaragua, and
I was now left alone with Ben. I had determined to await here the result
of affairs at Nacaome, from whence we had not as yet received any
intelligence. That very night a reinforcement from San Miguel marched
silently through the streets of La Union, and in less than half an hour
were embarked on their way to San Lorenzo. It was a forced march, and
the practical reply to the despatches borne by “Diablo Negro.”
The day following was the holiest day of the Holy Week, and was ushered
in with the firing of guns in the little plaza. The streets all wore
their liveliest garb, and business of every kind was suspended. At nine
o’clock the inhabitants all flocked to the church, whither I followed.
But it was crowded to suffocation, and I was neither Christian nor
curious enough to remain; accordingly I joined Dr. Drivon, at his rooms
at the Doña Antonia’s, from whence the whole out-door performances could
be witnessed. At eleven o’clock the crowd emerged into the plaza, where
a procession, preceded by some musicians, was formed. In advance went
twenty or thirty men and boys, half naked, and painted in a frightful
manner, each bearing a wooden spear; these were supposed to represent
Jews, Moors, and Devils, who are all classed in the same pleasant
category. They engaged in mimic fights, and dashed through the streets,
clearing every living thing before the procession, and by their
fantastic actions creating great merriment. Then followed twelve boys,
some white and others dark, to represent the apostles, and two sweet
little girls, dressed in gauze, personifying the Marys. Joseph of
Arimathea, a meztizo, staggered beneath a heavy cross, and on a bier,
borne by six young men, was a wax figure representing Christ. Priests
and chanters surrounded it, and a crowd of women and children, with palm
branches, followed. The procession halted at every corner, while rockets
were let off in the plaza. It was an incongruous, typical ceremony,
allusive apparently to the crucifixion and burial of Christ. I asked
Doña Antonia’s son, who had been one of the apostles, on his return to
the house, what it meant. “Oh, nothing,” he replied briskly, “only
Christ is dead, and we shall have no God for three days!” From this
reply I inferred that it had produced no very lasting impression upon
the minds of the apostles, whatever its effect upon the other
participants.
Next morning I was roused at daylight by the firing of guns, but
supposing that it only part of the fiesta, I went to sleep again. When I
rose for breakfast, however, the Commandante placed in my hands an open
letter from Gen. Cabañas, announcing the surrender of Gen. Guardiola, on
substantially the basis before proposed, and the immediate dispersal of
his troops. In less than one year after, Guardiola was in the field, as
the aid of the President of San Salvador, against the very Serviles who
had decoyed him into overt acts against his own government! Thus ended
the disturbances in Honduras, which had, at one time, threatened to
break up the proposed Union of the States, and, for the time, British
and Servile policy were again crushed to earth.
The Admiral had already prepared to sail, and “La Sérieuse,” was every
way ready to follow, at a moment’s warning. And although a deputation
had arrived from San Miguel, to conduct me to that city, yet the
principal object of my visit having been accomplished, I was anxious to
return to Leon, which I did a day or two subsequently, having in the
meantime made another trip to the island of Tigre, and completed the
observations necessary to the construction of the Map of the Gulf of
Fonseca, elsewhere presented.
I regretted much my inability to spend more time in San Salvador, which
is, in many respects, the most interesting and important State of the
five which composed the old federation. In territorial extent, it is the
smallest, but it has a greater relative population than either of the
others, and its people are better educated and more industrious. It has,
from the first, been the stronghold of the Liberal party, and has
constantly adhered, with heroic devotion, to the idea of Nationality.
The restoration of the Republic of Central America is the grand object
of its policy, and to this all other questions are regarded as
subordinate. It has had frequent collisions with the agents of Great
Britain, (who, without exception, are active Servile partisans,) but has
always maintained itself with firmness and dignity. As a consequence, it
has been grossly maligned, and its people held up as impersonations of
perfidy and disorder. But there is no part of Central, nor of Spanish
America, where individual rights are better respected, or the duties of
republicanism better understood. Whatever the future history of Central
America, its most important part, in all that requires activity,
concentration, and force, will be performed by San Salvador.