CHAPTER XII.

The Sierra Madre. — Todos Santos. — Evening Prayer (La Oracion). — Indian domestic habits. — Religious devotion. — Goitre. — Jacaltenango. — Indian Festival. — A Temblor. — Indian Idolatry. — Custom of ancient inhabitants to serve the parents whose daughters they wished to marry. — Doubtful fidelity of my guide. — Condition of Mule. — Mexican Frontier. — Comitan. — Note on President Juarez, and the Execution of the Emperor Maximilian.

On our way to Jacaltenango we had to cross the Sierra Madre, a range of mountains which traverses the centre of Guatemala. The mule track led us over some steep and rugged ascents, and through a long and deep barranca filled with a cold damp mist. During the greater part of the day we were enveloped in clouds which covered the summits of the hills. We finally reached the hamlet of Todos Santos, and obtained shelter at an Indian rancho.

Towards nightfall we heard the distant bell of the chapel ringing for evening prayer.[71] The Indians stood in front of their huts, and looking in the direction of the sound of the bell, recited the Ave Maria. This is one of the religious customs taught by the Spanish friars that retains its influence upon the inhabitants of these remote highlands.

Darkness rapidly succeeds daylight in tropical latitudes, and upon my return to the rancho I observed that the hut was lighted by a method mentioned by the early historians of the conquest as having been in universal use amongst the Mexican Indians. In the centre of the room was a rude wooden stand, upon which was placed crosswise, a lighted piece of resinous pinewood. The flame gave a sufficient light for all practical purposes. After turning into my hammock, I watched by the fitful glare of the firebrand, the domestic habits of the Indians. The first thing done, was to put the child to bed, and this was managed in the following manner:—The mother wrapped the child tightly in swaddling clothes, until it looked like a mummy. The head was left exposed. It was then fastened upon a flat board about three feet high and eighteen inches wide. This board was put upright against an angle of the wall. The child remained throughout the night perfectly quiet. The bed upon which the father and mother slept, was a low wide frame resting on four legs, and raised a few inches above the ground. Everything was of the rudest simplicity. The smoke from the fire rose directly upwards and escaped through the roof.

In the morning, while Carlos was making a cup of chocolate, the Indian came to my side and said that he wished to ask me a question about the people who lived beneath the earth (abaxo). He had been told, that men like ourselves were living and moving about below us, and he could not understand how this was possible. I endeavoured to explain to him that the world was round, and that on the other side of the earth beneath, things were much the same as at Todos Santos. My attempts to teach the laws of gravitation were, however, not successful, and he went away in a state of bewilderment, probably under the impression that the people below were upside down.

After leaving the hamlet, we passed by the little church whose bell we had heard upon the previous night. The door was closed, and I noticed that it was charred by burning and blackened by smoke. I was told that this remote church was frequently closed during the time that the priest was away in other parts of the district, and when the Indians came here, they stuck lighted candles upon the door as nearly as possible in the direction of the image to which they wished to make their offerings. The church door was consequently deeply marked by the flames. Here, as also before the closed doors of other chapels in the mountains, the Indians have the custom of raising a temporary altar outside, before which they place offerings, and sit patiently in silence for many hours. They then fill a brazier with chips of resinous wood, and light their candles and the brazier and go away to their huts, leaving the incense burning. This is possibly a survival of the ancient usage of burning copal incense before their idols.

During the forenoon we went over several steep ranges of hills, and down very abrupt descents until we arrived at the village of St. Martin, when we stopped at a deserted shed, and Carlos proposed that he should get ready the breakfast. It was always a pleasure to watch an Indian lighting a fire. His materials are usually a few dry sticks, some leaves, a flint, a steel, and a roll of prepared cotton, which, when slightly burnt, easily catches fire from the sparks of the flint. There was often, however, a difficulty in getting the fuel to burst into a flame, and the steady persistent patience of Indians in doing this is extraordinary. It was a great comfort in riding amongst the sierras, to have always the power of making a fire. It was of still greater importance to carry your own bed.

Each morning when starting upon a journey over an unknown country, with much uncertainty as to where quarters would be found for the night, there was a sense of satisfaction in seeing placed upon the pommel of the saddle the hammock in which you intended to sleep. It gave freedom from all anxiety with regard to the future. There was no cause to feel any doubts respecting the beds at a Spanish posada, or the rough interior of an Indian hut, and there was always the prospect of obtaining, after the fatigues of the day, a good night’s rest. In thus travelling and having at hand sufficient provisions and fuel to guard against being by any accident in want amongst these mountainous regions, there was a feeling of independence which was very exhilarating. This kind of gipsy, Bohemian life was singularly attractive, and the small element of risk from the possibility of meeting hostile Indians was too slight to have any influence upon the mind. There was a certain degree of solitude in thus riding without a companion, as the guide ran several hundred yards ahead, but this was not much felt, for there was a never ending change of scene, and every hour brought something new and unexpected.

In the evening as we descended the slopes of the valleys, we met numbers of Indians carrying heavy loads on their backs. I had noticed when riding amongst the higher parts of these hills that crosses were placed upon all remarkable positions, and at the corners where paths branched off towards the hamlets. When passing these crosses the men invariably took off their broad straw hats, and showed by their manner great respect.

I was surprised at observing in the valleys that the Indians suffered much from goitre. This unsightly growth seemed chiefly to affect the women. It was the same in size and appearance as that which exists amongst the inhabitants of several of the secluded valleys in Switzerland.

At intervals during the afternoon we heard the distant sound of the beating of a drum calling the attention of the Indians for some purpose which we did not then understand. When we drew near to Jacaltenango we became aware that something was occurring which caused considerable excitement amongst the people. We passed an open space at the entrance of the pueblo, upon which had been built, temporarily, a “Santo” house. It was a small round hut, within which was an image, which had been removed from the church and placed there, in order that it should receive special honour and devotion. Before this shrine a dance was taking place. It represented incidents of the wars between the Spanish Christians and the Moors during the period when the latter were finally driven out of Spain. A little beyond the “Santo” house was the church where an Indian festival was in progress, and an orchestra was busily engaged within, performing a musical service. I stopped for a few minutes to look at the strange and fantastical scene, and the groups of swarthy, wild-looking Indians, and then rode on to the convent, where we were welcomed by Padre Juan Chrysostemos Robles. My guide Carlos went away to join in the festivities of his tribe.

In the morning an Indian passed rapidly through the village beating a small drum, and later in the day, a large crowd of Indians assembled in the square in front of the church. It thus became known that an important meeting was to be held in order to bring about a settlement of some difficulty or disagreement between two hamlets, with respect to the buying and selling of lands. About three hundred of the men, chiefly interested, gathered together. The speaking began in tones so harsh that it was almost inconceivable that human language could have developed into such rough and grating sounds.

These Mams were men of strong and muscular frames, compact and well made, but they were all short in stature. Their general appearance was wild and they had a restless manner. They came from the adjacent hills, and it was noticeable with them as with other Indians I had seen in the mountains, that they were darker than those living on the plains. The meeting lasted for about an hour, and as soon as the business was ended they immediately left Jacaltenango and returned to their homes. I was told that the matter in dispute had been settled to the satisfaction of all present, and that there was no longer any fear of local disturbances.

Meanwhile the numerous orchestral services within the church were still proceeding. It was a curious scene. The chief instrument was a large wooden marimba made on the principle of short and long sounding boards, the upper notes of which were played by the leading performers, whilst three other men kept up a continuous accompaniment on the bass. It was evidently an improvement upon the African marimba which had probably been introduced into America by the negro slaves. There were also violins and several rudely constructed guitars. The musical ceremonies were performed before the altars, the Indian congregation maintaining a complete silence. Not the least strange part of the function was the fact that Padre Robles was an unconcerned spectator, although it was his church that was occupied by the Indians and his “Santos” that were being carried about and worshipped, and to whom offerings were made.

Although the music was noisy and monotonous, the players seemed to have a correct knowledge of harmony. The Padre explained how this happened. He said that this comparative knowledge of music was obtained in consequence of the teaching of the friars before the dissolution of the monasteries. These friars devoted much of their time to the education of a certain number of Indian lads in orchestral music, in order to train them to take part in the church services, and he supposed that the instruction then given was kept up in some way which he did not understand, and that young Indians were taught in their villages for this work. He thought that the preparations for the church festivals and for the dances were also arranged in a similar manner.

In the afternoon we went to the entrance of one of the valleys, as the Padre wished to show me the position of an Indian “_adoratorio_”[72] situated on the side of a steep mountain. He said he had not seen it, but had been told by his Indians what occurred there. An idol, held in much reverence by the Mams had its shrine inside, and the Alcaldes charged with the duties of the religious rites and other ceremonies relating to Indian sacerdotalism, visited it at certain seasons of the year and offered sacrifices to it. The idol had also days for the performance of penances, and there was one special day when there was a solemn feast, and turkeys were killed and eaten with peculiar observances, and the blood of the turkeys was sprinkled and offered in a manner unknown to him.

After passing through the place where the “Santo” house was erected, and before which dances and other ceremonies were still going on, we returned to the convent.

Soon after sunset an event occurred which proved that a disturbance had taken place in the interior of the earth. We were sitting inside the precincts when we were alarmed by, what was to me, a quite unknown rumbling sound amongst the adjacent mountains. At first I thought that it was caused by distant thunder reverberating amongst the valleys, but it was soon evident that the sounds were of an entirely different character.

The Padre, who was listening attentively to the noise, said, after a few moments’ pause, that it was a “Temblor” or trembling of the earth below, and that it was quite different from a “Terra Moto” or earthquake, as it never caused any harm, although it was considered to be a warning. According to my map, the nearest crater was the Volcan de Tacara, fourteen leagues away in a south-easterly direction. The deep sounds rolled like thunder beneath the massive ranges of the Sierra Madre.

When living amongst these mountains, and hearing these intimations of great volcanic movements below the surface of the ground, it can be understood how it came to pass that the superstitious and fanatical Indians living in these regions believed that the earth beneath them was peopled by evil demons capable of doing injury, who required to be propitiated, and that when seeing the expression of their anger in the fire, smoke and ashes issuing from the craters, thought it necessary to appease them by offering them their daughters. It is probable that the sacrifices known to have taken place to the volcanoes near Atitlan and Quezaltenango were also customary throughout the long range of volcanoes in this part of Central America.

When talking about the present customs of the Indians living in these sierras, the Padre said that the ancient rule of young men serving for a certain time the parents of the girl they wished to marry had ceased, and that now it was usual for an Indian to make up his mind on the subject, and then to begin his courtship by giving presents of maize, fowls, or clothing to the parents.[73] Finally he proposes to take the girl in marriage, and if they consent, he pays for her according to his means, generally about two dollars, but sometimes as much as eight dollars.

Upon the morning of our departure from Jacaltenango, whilst I was engaged in superintending the saddling of the mule and the various preparations for the day’s journey, which from the neglected state of the road was expected to be long and fatiguing, I observed Padre Robles walking rapidly backwards and forwards in front of the convent, evidently in a state of much anxiety and alarm.

Presently, when Carlos had moved to another part of the courtyard, the Padre hurried to my side and said, in a very decided tone, “Señor you must go back at once to Guatemala.” I said, “What is the meaning of this! What has happened?” He replied, “I must not tell you, but I know that if you do not go back to Guatemala you will be robbed and perhaps killed,” and, he added with a look of much distress, “they will steal your beautiful mule.” I told him that it was quite impossible that I should return to Guatemala, and that I intended to go forward. “But,” I said, “if you know anything about which I ought to be informed, you should tell me what it is that you fear.”

After some hesitation, he took me aside close to the convent wall and said, “It is this, Señor: last night my housekeeper overheard two Indians talking together in a low tone. One of them was your guide, the other was a man whom she did not know, and she listened to what they were saying. They were sitting in a corner of the courtyard, just beneath her window, and she could hear what they said. She heard them arrange a plan to rob you and to take away your mule. Their plan was this: At about an hour’s journey from this pueblo, you have to pass a long hedgerow of aloes; when you arrive at the aloes, an Indian will jump out from behind them into the road. Your guide will then come to you and say, that the man is his brother who wishes to go to Comitan, and he will ask if he may be permitted to accompany you. After you have gone on for some distance, the Indians intend to come behind you and take a favourable opportunity to attack and rob you, and, whatever happens you will certainly lose your mule.”

After walking together within the quadrangle for a few minutes to discuss the subject, I said, that I had no reason to doubt the fidelity of Carlos. He had been recommended to me by the priest at Gueguetenango as a trustworthy guide, and was considered to be a good and honest man. He had proved himself, so far, to be faithful, and was willing and careful; consequently I should still continue to place confidence in him. With respect to the conversation that had taken place, I thought that the housekeeper must have made some mistake, and had been unreasonably alarmed. In any case, however, I said it was necessary for me to proceed across the frontier. The Padre looked very unhappy, so I told him that he must not be anxious about my fate, and that I would take care to send him information about my movements. I hoped that he would soon hear of my safe arrival in Mexico. He then gave me a letter of introduction to his brother Captain Robles, who commanded the small force stationed on the frontier at Lenton.

By this time Carlos had filled his pack, fitted the head band over his forehead, and was waiting to start; so I said good-bye to the kind Padre, and as I turned round in the saddle to get a last glimpse of Jacaltenango, the most beautifully situated village that I had seen in Guatemala, I observed him watching us from the top of the convent steps.

I had ridden about a league or more and had quite forgotten all about the housekeeper and her forecast of events, when I noticed that we were approaching a long row of tall aloes bordering the left side of the path, and soon afterwards an Indian—a most villainous and evil-looking scoundrel—jumped from his place of concealment amongst the aloes and stood before me on the road. At the same moment Carlos ran back close to the mule’s head and told me that this man was his brother who wished to go to Comitan and asked permission to join us.

The scene was like the realisation of a dream. For a few moments I was in doubt as to the best course to pursue, but having been forewarned I was forearmed, and knowing that the Indians could not have the slightest idea that I was aware of their plans, I decided to go on without showing them that I had any suspicions. I said to Carlos “you tell me that this man is your brother and perhaps you are stating the truth, but he is a stranger to me and I do not like his appearance.” However I gave him permission to join us. Carlos thanked me, and the other Indian, who did not understand Spanish, gave a guttural sound of satisfaction, and then both men ran forward and kept their places well in front, at about a hundred yards distance.

In the forenoon we passed St. Marcos and halted at St. Andres, in a district remarkable for the luxuriant growth of fruit trees and plantains. We then descended a long hill at the foot of which we halted for breakfast.

As the mule had shown signs of distress, I took off the saddle and noticed that there was a broad low swelling upon her back. A muleteer happened to be passing by on his way to Jacaltenango, and I asked him to examine the swelling and give me his opinion about it. He told me that the mule was ill from a “pica de luna” or moonstroke, and that upon some previous night I must have tethered her out in the open air exposed to the light of the full moon, whilst her back was still warm after the saddle had been removed. I said that I remembered this having been done. The muleteer said that the injurious effects of the moon was well known, and that the mule ought not to have been exposed to it so soon after I had dismounted. He thought that the swelling would not prevent my riding her, provided that the pressure was taken off by resting the saddle upon pads placed upon each side of the swelling, and he arranged some rolls of padding for the purpose.

In the afternoon we were going through a desolate and uninhabited part of the country, when I observed that my guide and his brother were lagging on the way. Finally they dropped behind, and began to run together a few yards in the rear. The time had now come when it was necessary to take a decisive action. I had to be careful not to let Carlos suppose that there were any doubts in my mind about his fidelity, for I knew nothing of the road, and it was important that I should appear to have entire confidence in his guidance.

I stopped the mule, and called Carlos up to my side, and said, “Carlos, you must not run behind me. You are the guide, and must keep in front to enable me to follow you, and not miss the track, and,” I added in a more marked manner, “remember that you are to keep well ahead. Let there not be any mistake in this matter, and your brother is to be with you.” Carlos immediately obeyed my orders. There was no danger to be apprehended so long as this precaution was taken, for I always carried with me a small loaded revolver to defend myself in case of attack, an event which I thought to be improbable.

When we arrived at Lenton, we were given rooms within the quarters of the garrison. Captain Robles, the commandant, showed me every attention, and at supper I joined the officers’ mess. In the morning it was found that although every possible care was taken to raise the saddle above the swelling, the mule could not bear any pressure. Consequently I asked Captain Robles if he could provide me with a horse. After some difficulty an animal was obtained, which although of very rough appearance, I thought would answer the purpose of carrying me the two days’ journey to Comitan. An Indian lad, called a mozo, was hired to bring the horse back, and lead my disabled mule. By the time that all these arrangements were completed it was getting late in the morning. More than three hours daylight were lost, and it was important with regard to my Indians to reach our next stopping place before sunset.

For eight leagues the road led through a dreary desert without any signs of habitation, and then we reached a pond called San José where we halted for an hour. It was quite dark when we reached a hut near Sinigiglia within the Mexican frontier, and where I decided to stop. An Indian and his wife were inside, but they not only refused to open the door and give us shelter, but to all applications for food or water, replied in the words so usually employed by all Indians when asked for anything, “No hay.” “There is nothing.” The only thing to be done was to make the best of the circumstances, so a supper was made from our store of provisions, and with the saddle for a pillow, and the hammock stretched upon the ground, I passed the night.

On the following day the sun was sinking below the horizon when we entered the town of Comitan, and I was not sorry to find myself within the walls of a comfortable posada, called the Hotel de la Libertad, where I was given a room looking into the court. I was not, however, destined to pass the night without disturbance.

After having been asleep for several hours I was startled by hearing a peculiar noise. It was a gentle and continuous tapping, accompanied by the word Señor spoken in a low, soft voice. It was quite dark so I lighted the candle and asked who was there, and I heard “Señor it is your mozo from Lenton, and I have brought your saddle, and wish to speak to you.” I opened the door and told the lad to explain the reason for coming to me in the middle of the night. He came in looking very frightened and said that he was afraid of my Indians for he thought they were bad men. He had heard them say that it was their intention to go back with him, and he feared that when they were in the deserted part of the country they would steal the horse; so he came to ask my permission to leave at once. The Indians were asleep but he was afraid that they would soon awake and prevent him from getting away alone. He said also that the mule was safe in the stable, and that he had brought with him the saddle, sheepskin and halter which he placed upon the floor in a corner of the room. I thought that the fears of the lad were perhaps well founded, and gave him directions to leave at once and get on as fast as possible. As he still looked anxious, I assured him that measures should be taken to prevent the Indians from following him for several hours. The mozo thanked me and disappeared into the dark courtyard, and I never heard of him or the horse again. It is to be hoped that he arrived at his village in safety.

Shortly before sunrise I was awoke by a loud tapping at the door. This time it was the landlord who came to tell me that my Indians were making a great noise and were very excited. They were calling out that the mozo had gone away during the night with my horse, and they wished to see me immediately and be paid and discharged. I told the landlord what had happened and that the mozo had left by my orders, and then requested him not to permit the Indians to leave the inn, and to tell them that I would not see them before the middle of the day. “I understand you,” said the landlord, “and will do all that is necessary.”

In the afternoon at the time when I estimated that if the mozo had made a proper use of his start he would be at least forty miles away, the Indians were discharged, and an hour afterwards I was informed that they had been seen on the road running fast towards the frontier.

It was now necessary to take steps to cure the mule and get a guide. Don Manuel Castillo, to whom I had a letter of introduction, was away at his hacienda, but his friend Don Mariana Godillo in the kindest manner undertook to arrange everything for me. Upon an examination of the mule it was considered advisable that she should have a few days’ rest to allow the swelling to subside, and in the meanwhile, the experience of local muleteers was made available in applying the most approved remedies.

During this time the town of Comitan was in a state of unusual excitement in consequence of the arrival of numerous bands of Indians to take part in the festival of San Caralampio, to whom was dedicated one of the churches. In front of that church numerous Indians were assembled. In some respects the scene was like that which took place at Jacaltenango, but the proceedings were more of the character of a fair than of a religious ceremony. The plaza was covered with booths, and a local Indian traffic was being busily transacted. Indian musicians with drums, fifes, and fiddles were engaged in making an incessant noise. The interior of the church was always crowded, and continuous services were performed at the shrines. The women wore white hoods which were drawn tightly across the lower part of their faces. The men usually wore black yergas.[74]

Upon the fourth morning of my stay in the town, as I could not see any signs of improvement in the state of the mule, and it was necessary not to lose any more time, I held a small meeting of experts in the stable. It was thought that some weeks must elapse before she would be fit to travel, and Señor Godillo proposed to give me one of his best mules in exchange for her, and also insisted upon giving me twenty dollars, as he considered my mule to be well worth that additional value. In the end this arrangement was carried out, and thus with infinite regret I parted with my intelligent and sure-footed companion.

It was reported at Comitan that the border provinces toward Palenque had become settled and had ceased to be in a lawless condition. This state of things was undoubtedly due to the remarkable influence of the President Juarez over the Indian tribes, and it was probable that the cause of this influence was attributable to the fact that, like Carrera, the first President of the Republic of Guatemala, he was by birth an Indian.

Juarez was known to be an Indian of a good unmixed stock. He was born in Oaxaca, the province bordering Chiapas on the west. Of his early youth but little is known, but as a young man he took a prominent part in the political movements which preceded the declaration of Independence. He was elected a Deputy to the Congress, and in 1858 became President, and was given very extensive authority. In considering the characteristics and capacity of the Indians in Central America, it can never be forgotten that, during a period of great revolutionary agitation, two unknown Indians should, in a most extraordinary manner, have risen to the surface, and controlled the destinies of the new Republics.

Under such conditions, requiring much administrative ability, it might have reasonably been expected that men of a white race, either Spaniards or belonging to the large population of half-castes of partly Spanish descent, would, in consequence of their superior qualifications, or their education, or military training, have taken the lead in these revolutions. As a matter of racial capacity, it is strange that ordinary Indians with absolutely no help from their surrounding circumstances, should have attained the highest power.[75]