Part 15

There are some fine old churches and palaces in Carthagena constructed of stone, which show the magnificence in which the old grandees lived when the city was a commercial metropolis. Many of them are empty now, and others are used as tenement-houses. In the cathedral, which is one of the largest and most elaborate to be found on the hemisphere, is a curious object of interest. It is a magnificent marble pulpit covered with exquisite carvings. It ranks among the most beautiful specimens of the sculptor’s art in the world. The people of Carthagena think there is nothing under the sun to equal it, and the story of its origin adds greatly to its value and interest. Two or three hundred years ago the Pope, wishing to show a mark of favor to the devout people of Colombia, ordered the construction of a marble pulpit for the decoration of the grand cathedral at Carthagena. It was designed and carved by the foremost artists of the day at Rome, and when completed was with great ceremony placed on board a Spanish galley bound for the New World. While en route the vessel was captured by pirates, and when the boxes containing the pulpit were broken open, and their contents found to be of no value as plunder, they were tipped overboard. But by the interposition of the Virgin, none of the pieces sank; and the English pirates, becoming alarmed at the miracle of the heavy marble floating on the water, fled from the ship, leaving their booty. The Spanish sailors got the precious cargo aboard their vessel again with great difficulty, and started on their way; but before they reached Carthagena they encountered a second lot of pirates, who plundered them of all the valuables they had aboard, and burned their ship. But the saints still preserved the pulpit; for, as the vessel and the remainder of the cargo were destroyed, the carved marble floated away upon the surface of the water, and, being guided by an invisible hand, went ashore on the beach outside the city to which it was destined.

There it lay for many years, unknown and unnoticed. Finally, however, it was discovered by a party of explorers, who recognized the value of the carvings and took it aboard their ship en route for Spain, intending to sell it when they reached home. But the saints still kept their eyes upon the Pope’s offering, and sent the vessel such bad weather that the captain was compelled to put into the port of Carthagena for repairs. There he told the story of the marble pulpit found upon the beach, and it reached the ears of the Archbishop. His Grace sent for the captain, informed him that the pulpit was intended for the decoration of the cathedral, and related the story of its construction and disappearance. The captain was an ungodly man, and intimated that the Archbishop was attempting to humbug him. He offered to sell the marble, and would not leave it otherwise. Having repaired the damage of the storm, the captain started for Europe, but he was scarcely out of the harbor when a most frightful gale struck him and wrecked his vessel, which went to the bottom with all on board; but the pulpit, the subject of so many divine interpositions, rose from the wreck, and one morning came floating into the harbor of Carthagena, where it was taken in charge by the Archbishop and placed in the cathedral for which it was intended, and where it now stands.

Near the miraculous pulpit, in the same church, is the preserved body of a famous saint. I forget what his name was, but he is in an excellent state of preservation--a skeleton with dried flesh and skin hanging to the bones. He did something hundreds of years ago which made him very sacred to the people of Carthagena, and by the special permission of the Pope his body was disinterred, placed in a glass case, and shipped from Rome to ornament the cathedral of the former city, along with the miraculous pulpit. The body is usually covered with a black pall, and is exposed only upon occasions of great ceremony, but any one can see the preserved saint by paying a fee to the priests. I purchased that privilege, and was shown the glass coffin standing upon a marble pedestal. The bones are bare, except where the brown skin, looking like jerked beef, covers them, and are a ghastly spectacle. During a revolution at Carthagena some impious soldiers upset the coffin and destroyed it. In the _melée_ one of the saint’s legs was lost, or at least the lower half of it from the knee down; but the priests replaced it with a wax leg, plump and pink, which, lying beside the original, gives the saint a very comical appearance.

There is much of interest to see at Carthagena, and the place has had a most romantic and exciting history, being described at length in “Thomson’s Seasons.” Again and again has it been sacked by the pirates, as it was formerly the shipping-point for the product of the gold and silver mines for which the mountains south of it have been so famous. Tons and tons of gold and silver have been sent thence to Spain. In the times of the viceroys the mines were worked under the direction of the Government. One-fifth of the net product went to the King, another fifth to the Church, while the miner was permitted to keep the remainder. The old records show that the share of the King was several millions a year for two hundred years or more, and that indicates how enormous the profit must have been; for the miners and officials were no more honest in those days than now, and it is not entirely certain that the share to which his Majesty was entitled always reached him.

The fortifications of Carthagena surpass in extent and solidity those of any city in the New World, and are still in good condition, although not occupied, having been constructed without regard to expense and for all time. The massive walls of the city are to all appearance impregnable, and the ancient subterranean passages leading outward to the foot of the adjacent mountains are still visible. The entrance to the magnificent harbor is studded with ancient fortifications, which, though now unused for more than half a century, seem almost as good as new. Formerly the city was connected by ship-channel with the river Magdalena, at a point many leagues above the delta, and was, therefore, in easy communication with the fertile valleys and plateaux of the interior--the gate of commerce in time of peace, and secure alike from protracted siege or successful assault in time of war.

The decline of Carthagena seems to have commenced with the present century, and to have steadily continued to within the past fifteen years, when the commerce of the country began to revive. In the mean time the ship-canal connecting the port with the great fluvial highway of the interior having fallen into disuse, became filled up and overgrown with tropical jungle; so that the few foreign trading-vessels visiting the coast sought harborage farther up, at a place called Barranquilla, near the mouth of the Magdalena. Barranquilla has become the chief city of commercial importance within the United States of Colombia, and is the residence of many of the principal merchants of the republic. It is a growing city, and from a few houses twenty years ago it now has a population of upwards of twenty-five thousand. Situated as it is, so near the outlet of the Magdalena River, it is destined to increase in size and commerce, and to become to Colombia what New York is to the United States--the great commercial emporium of the republic; Aspinwall and Panama, free ports, being more a highway of nations than a part of this country. To this end Barranquilla has many things in its favor. The custom-house is located there. All the river steamers and sailing-vessels on the Magdalena, conveying from the vast back-lying interior to the coast the multitudinous products of the country, start from and return to this place.

But Barranquilla has its drawbacks. As soon as it secured a little commerce a large bar began to form at the mouth of the river, and has grown until it has become a sand-spit which prevents the entrance of steamers. Then a new town, called Sabanilla, was started on the spit, which is connected with Barranquilla by a railway fourteen miles long, owned and operated by a German company. But the harbor of Sabanilla, though now the principal one of the republic, is neither convenient nor safe. It is shallow, full of shifting sand-bars, and exposed to furious wind-storms; while the new port of Barranquilla is quite inaccessible from the delta, by reason of its treacherous sand-bars. So with the opening of the ancient _dique_, or ship-channel, between Carthagena and Calamar, or the construction of a railway between the first-named point and Barranquilla (both of which enterprises are being agitated), Carthagena may regain her ancient prestige and become the chief port of the republic.

Sabanilla is a most desolate place, nothing but sand, filth, and poverty; and were it not for the sea-breeze that constantly sweeps across the barren peninsula upon which it stands, the inhabitants could not survive. No one lives there except a colony of _cargadors_, boatmen, and roustabouts, who swarm, like so many animals, in filthy huts built of palm-leaves, and a few saloon-keepers, who give them wine in exchange for the money they earn. The men and women are almost naked, and the children entirely so. Perhaps the reason for the nastiness of the place is because there is no fresh water; but the inhabitants ought not to be excused on this account, as the beach furnishes as fine bathing as can be found in the world, and is at their very doors. All the fresh water used has to be brought in canoes from a point eight miles up the river, and is sold by the dipperful: but only a moderate quantity is necessary for consumption. Most of the inhabitants are Canary Islanders, who monopolize the boating business along this coast; but sprinkled among them are many Italians, and nearly every nation on earth is represented, even China. The only laundry is run by a Chinaman, and another is cook at a place that is used as a substitute for a hotel. The boatmen are drunken, quarrelsome, desperate wretches; murder is frequent among them, and fighting the chief amusement.

Barranquilla is the most modern town in Colombia except Aspinwall, which it resembles somewhat. It has some fine houses and quite a large foreign colony, many of its merchants being Germans, who live in good style, and enjoy many comforts at an enormous cost; for flour is twenty-five dollars a barrel and meat twenty-five cents a pound, beer twenty-five cents a glass, and everything else in proportion. There is nothing in plenty but fruits and flies. The town is the capital of the State of Sabanilla, and has a considerable military garrison, which is important in keeping down insurrections. During the revolution of 1885 Barranquilla was the headquarters of the insurrectionary army, and, commanding the only outlet from the interior, is naturally a place of consequence, from a military as well as from a commercial standpoint.

The great valley of the Magdalena, extending from the Caribbean coast to the equatorial line, is one of inexhaustible resources. Its width varies from one hundred to one hundred and fifty miles before gradually sloping to a point in the northern borders of the equator. At the mouth of the river Cauca this valley branches off into another of less general width but of greater elevation, and consequently possesses a more equable and temperate climate. The river Cauca is itself navigable by a light-draught steamer as far as Cali, a point less than eighty miles from the port of Buenaventura on the Pacific coast. The lower valley of the Magdalena is one vast alluvial plain, a large portion of which is subject to periodical overflow. In fact, during the rainy season the greater portion of it is usually under water. This, however, might be prevented, and the fertile lands reclaimed, by a system of dikes far less expensive than those of the lower Mississippi. But in a country where population is sparse, and Nature lavish in her bounties, such enterprises are not usually undertaken.

The distance from Barranquilla to Honda, the head of navigation on the Magdalena, is seven hundred and eighty miles, following the course of the river, but in a direct line is only about one-third of that distance. The journey by boat requires from ten to thirty days, according to the condition of the river. In the rainy season the banks are full, and the current so strong that the little steamers cannot make much progress; but if the moon is bright enough to show the course, they are kept in motion night and day. In the dry season the river is shallow, and the boats have to tie up at dark, and remain so till daylight. Then, on nearly every voyage they run aground, and often stick for a day or two, sometimes a week, before they can be got off.

The boats are similar to those used upon the Ohio and other rivers, with a paddle-wheel behind, and draw only a foot or two of water even when heavily laden, so that they can go over the bars. There are two steamboat companies, both with United States capital; one is managed by a Mr. Joy, and the other by a Mr. Cisneros, a naturalized Italian. During the revolution all the boats were seized by the insurgents. Their sides were covered with corrugated iron, so as to make them bullet-proof, a small cannon or two mounted upon the decks, and the cabins filled with sharp-shooters. So prepared, they were used as gun-boats, and were quite effective. Many of them were destroyed, so that transportation facilities upon the Magdalena are not so good as they were.

The first two hundred miles is a continuous swamp; the next three hundred miles is a vast plain, which is under water about two months in the year, during the floods that follow the rainy season, but at other times is covered with cattle, which are driven into the mountains before the floods come.

The banks along the river were formerly occupied with profitable plantations, which were worked by negro slaves, as neither the Spaniards nor the native Indians could endure the climate and the mosquitoes. But when the emancipation of the slaves took place, in 1824, the plantations were abandoned, and have since been so overgrown with tropical vegetation that no traces of their former cultivation exist. The negroes, who have descended from the former slaves, have relapsed into a condition of semi-barbarism, and while they still occupy the old estancias, lead a lazy, shiftless, degraded life, subsisting upon fish and the fruits which grow everywhere in wonderful profusion. Nature provides for them, and no amount of wages can tempt them to work. A few small villages have sprung up along the river, which are trading stations, and furnish some freight for the steamers in the shape of fruit, poultry, eggs, cocoa-nuts, and similar articles, which are attended to by the women of the country.

The river itself is a great natural curiosity. It flows almost directly northward, and drains an enormous area of mountains which are constantly covered with snow. The current is as swift as that of the Mississippi, which it resembles, and the water, always muddy, is so full of sediment that one can hear it striking the sides of the boat. The water will not mix with that of the sea, and for fifty miles into the ocean it can be distinguished. In some places it is seven or eight miles wide, at others it is scarcely more than a hundred yards, where it has cut its way through the rolling earth. The channel, which has never been cleared, is full of treacherous bars and snags, which are continually shifting, and make it necessary to tie up the steamer every night, except in times of high water during the rainy season. The mosquitoes are monumental in size, and at some seasons of the year, when the winds are strong and blow them from the jungles, it is almost impossible to endure them. The officers and deck hands of the boat all wear thick veils over their faces, and heavy buckskin gloves, awake or asleep; and the passengers, unless similarly protected, are subject to the most intense torment. Often the swarms are so thick that they obscure the sky, and the sound of humming is so loud that it resembles the murmur of an approaching storm.

Some ludicrous stories are told about adventures with the mosquitoes. I have been solemnly assured that oftentimes when they have attacked a boat and driven its captain and crew below, they have broken the windows of the cabin by plunging in swarms against them, and have attempted to burst in the doors. Although this may be somewhat of an exaggeration, it is nevertheless true that frequently horses and cattle, after the most frightful sufferings, have died from mosquito bites on board the vessels. Not long ago a herd of valuable cattle were being taken from the United States to a ranch up the Magdalena River, and became so desperate under the attacks of the mosquitoes that they broke from their stalls, jumped into the water, and were all drowned. Passengers intending to make the voyage always provide themselves with protection in the shape of mosquito-bars, head-nets, and thick gloves, and when on deck are compelled to tie their sleeves around their wrists and their pantaloons around their ankles.

The alligators are so numerous along the banks that the same story-tellers assert that you could step from the back of one to another, and thus walk for miles without touching ground. They are playful creatures, and not at all timid, but bask quietly in the sun until disturbed, when they plunge into the river. The steamboats are always followed by schools of them, and the passengers amuse themselves by firing at them from the deck. No attempt has been made to kill them for profit, but if some enterprising hunters should go to the Magdalena country and make a business of curing and shipping alligator hides, they would find it a profitable venture.

Once or twice a day the steamboats stop for freight or fuel, which is supplied them by the settlers, and brought on board by naked negroes.

The town of Honda, at the head of navigation, is a place of considerable importance, and at intervals for the last quarter of a century American companies have undertaken the construction of a railroad from it to Bogota--a distance of seventy miles through mountains. About ten leagues of track have been built, but those in charge have been compelled again and again to abandon it because of the revolutions and the impossibility of securing labor. The natives cannot be induced to work, and no wages that the company can pay will induce immigration. But the enterprise is being slowly extended, with the encouragement of the Government in the shape of a concession of money and lands, and ultimately the perseverance which conquers all things will succeed. There is also a liberal concession from the Government to another syndicate of New York capitalists for the construction of a railway into the Cauca valley, where are supposed to be the richest goldmines in the world, from which the hundreds of millions taken away by the Spaniards came.

From Honda to Bogota the journey must be made on mule-back, and it requires four days to cover the seventy miles. Recently there has been a line of stagecoaches established between Bogota and the town of Agrialarge, which shortens the time a day, and the distance by saddle thirty miles. In describing the journey Mr. Scruggs, recently United States Minister to Colombia, says:

“After perfecting all necessary arrangements the day previous, the traveller rises at six, takes a light breakfast of chocolate and bread, and hopes to be on the way by seven. But people here take life easily. Servants and guides and muleteers make no note of time, and it is quite useless to try to hurry them, so that if he gets fairly under way by noon he is fortunate. Just beyond the deep, broad valley of the Magdalena are the snow-capped mountains of Tolima. They seem marvellously near, and yet they are more than one hundred miles distant, so very clear and transparent is the pure ethereal atmosphere of this elevated region. In the opposite direction is the dish-shaped valley of Guaduas, fringed with luxuriant foliage of the coffee plantations and the virgin forests of emerald green. In the centre of this valley reposes the parochial village, with its church steeples reaching upward as if in feeble imitation of the adjacent mountain-peaks.

“The valley is watered by the Rio Negro; justly so named, for its waters are as black as ink, so rendered by their passage through the coal and mineral deposits along the foothills of the Sierra. Near by are a noted sulphur spring and the extinct volcano which Humboldt describes as likely, one day, to break out afresh and destroy this beautiful valley. Though quite hot, the atmosphere is singularly dry and sanitary, and the place is often resorted to by invalids from Bogota and the more elevated regions.

“Up to this point our journey has been alternating between deep valleys and dizzy mountain-peaks. We cross one only to encounter another. Such is the Camino Real, or ‘Royal Highway,’ the only available route between the Colombian capital and the outside world. Within the past few years it has been much improved, it is true, and at great expense to the Government; but it is still little else than a mere mule trail, not wide enough in many places for two mules to walk abreast, and so tortuous and precipitous as to be impassable except on the backs of animals trained to the road. When we reflect that this is the overland highway of an immense commerce, and that it has been in constant use since the Spanish conquest, we naturally marvel that it is no better. It seems to have been constructed without any previous survey whatever, and without the least regard for

comfort or convenience, making short curves where curves are quite unnecessary, or going straight over some mountain spur or peak, when the ascent might have been rendered less difficult by easy curves. But, to the observant traveller, the inconveniences and hardships of the journey are, in some measure, compensated by the varied and captivating scenery. He passes through a variety of climates within a few hours’ ride. At one time he is ascending a dizzy steep by a sort of rustic stairway hewn into the rock-ribbed mountain, where the air reminds him of a chilly November morning; a few hours later he is descending to the region of the plantain and the banana, where the summer never ends, and the rank crops of fruits and flowers chase each other in unbroken circle from January to December. On the bleak crests of the paramos he encounters neither tree nor shrub, where a few blades of sedge and the flitting of a few sparrows give the only evidences of vegetable or animal life; while in the deep valley just below, the dense groves of palm and cottonwood are alive with birds of rich and varied plumage, and the air seems loaded with floral perfumes until the senses fairly ache with their sweetness.