Golden Dreams and Leaden Realities 49

Golden Dreams and Leaden Realities 49

This house stood on one corner of the plaza, directly opposite

the great cathedral. It presented the same appearance of squalid

magnificence to which I have already alluded;--the walls were of

stone, and the apartments lofty and spacious, but there were no

carpets, no sofas, no mirrors, and no sign of comfort except a netted

hammock of twisted grass swung between the corners of what must be

called the parlour.

 

After a long delay, which Ohio bore with provoking good nature, supper

was brought in by a fat señora, assisted by a peeping señorita, and

displayed upon the rickety little table. The plates were of different

patterns,--the cups were without saucers,--the knives without

forks,--and, for want of a more convenient seat, Texas was fain to

trust himself to the hammock;--but, as Ohio declared, with his mouth

full of chicken, and eggs, and frijoles, it was a supper fit for a

king; but then, unfortunately, we were no king, but four half-starved

Californians. When our chicken, who had doubtless been the lean and

hungry Cassius to some Cæsar of the dunghill, had disappeared almost

bodily down our throats,--and when the eggs and beans had followed,

without at all diminishing our ardour,--we, all at once, turned upon

our hostess a look of inquiry mingled with the utmost complacency and

benevolence. It was as much as to say, "So far good,--you have made,

my dear señora! a very tolerable commencement,--after this little

skirmish, we feel ready for the more important engagement that is to

follow."

 

But the señora, looking coldly and ungratefully upon our enthusiasm,

replies, that what we have just eaten is really and absolutely our

supper, that there is, in fact, not another morsel of food in the

house. Slowly and reluctantly we dropped our four reals into the

skinny hands of the withered old beldame, and walked back to our hotel

a sadder and wiser man.

 

Having slept very comfortably on the dirty floor of the dining-room,

we walked out next morning to see the city. There can hardly be a

greater contrast than that between the towns and cities of Central

America and those of our own country. The latter are emphatically

of to-day,--they have nothing to do with the past, and hardly any

thing more to do with the future. If our buildings do not tumble

down in the progress of erection, they are almost sure to be removed

in a few years to give place to others. But the buildings of Leon

seemed to have locked up in them the story of a thousand years, and

as if they might live to tell of a thousand years to come. There are

no unfinished houses, no piles of stone or lumber blocking up the

streets, no sound of the saw, or pleasant tinkling of the mason's

hammer. These things may have been some centuries ago, but one would

rather suppose the whole city had suddenly sprung from the ground,

like Minerva full grown from the head of Jupiter. Yet it has nothing

of the warmth, and brilliancy, and fantastic variety of tropical

vegetation;--instead of the gaudy kiosk and slender minaret, like

bundles of sunbeams converted into stone, which harmonize so well with

the glowing regions of the sun, there is nothing but a heavy, cubic

monotony, better suited to the snows of Siberia, or Dickens' London

fog.

 

The cathedral is a vast, ungainly structure, built entirely of stone,

and with no pretensions to beauty; but being advantageously situated

on one side of the great square, with several massive towers, it

presents a very imposing and commanding appearance. Ascending to the

top by a narrow, winding stairway, in the thickness of the wall, we

obtained a grand and extensive prospect. From this elevated island of

brick, and stone, and mortar, we overlooked an immense sea of foliage

which closed around us on every side, dotted, here and there, with

smaller islands, and watched over by the cloud-girdled, pyramidal

mountain we had seen in ascending the Realejo, seemingly thrown

forward, like a solitary sentinel, in advance of the mighty host

behind. We stood on a building, and in the midst of a city belonging

to the civilization of the old world, while all around lay the untamed

barbarism of the new. The inhabitants of Leon are not Americans, but

Europeans, and such as Europe saw two hundred years ago. They have

gained nothing of new life and vigour by being transplanted on to this

virgin soil, but seem rather to have lost what little they possessed.

This country has not proved to them the harsh stepmother that New

England was to our Puritan ancestors; but, like a foolish grandam, has

spoilt them by her foolish indulgence. The result is that they can

do nothing for themselves,--England supplies them with manufactures,

and the United States furnish their flour. Their cities, without good

roads to connect them with the country and with each other, languish

and go out like scattered embers.

 

Yet the country is rich almost beyond compare. The forests abound in

the most valuable timber, the soil is of inexhaustible fertility, and

the year is a constant harvest. The sugar-cane, which in our Southern

States requires to be renewed every three years, here continues to

yield a sufficient return for ten, growing fifteen or twenty feet

high, and as thick as a man's arm. Native labour can be obtained for a

real a day. As far as our experience extends, the climate is extremely

healthy. We were three weeks in the country, at the commencement of

the rainy season, and especially liable to sickness from our long

confinement, yet we lost only one man by disease, and he was attacked

before we left the ship. Government holds out great inducement to

actual settlers, and the finest land in the world can be obtained at

a merely nominal value.

 

While we were at Leon, an offer was made to Ohio of so liberal a

nature as almost induced him to stop short on his homeward journey,

and forego the anticipated pleasure of seeing his wife and children

for another year. He was to receive one hundred dollars a month,

besides board and lodging; a shop and tools were promised at the

expense of Government, and the privilege of working a third of the

time on his own account was superadded.

 

Other artisans were also eagerly sought after. Thousands of muskets

lay useless in the armories, because not a workman could be found who

understood the mysteries of a lock--not the permutation, combination

lock of Brahmah or Hobbs, but a simple gun-lock, the construction of

which is known to every boy of twelve in the United States. But it

is time to leave Leon and its helpless inhabitants. They reminded me

constantly of the snail in the shell of a lobster, and of a little boy

dressed in his father's clothes, and playing that he was a man.

 

We passed through Central America at the time of the civil war, and

many of the streets of Leon were barricaded and guarded with mounted

cannon. After leaving that city, we were told that we should enter the

territory occupied by the hostile faction; and, to avoid all danger of

ill-treatment, we were advised to keep as close together as possible.

But nothing occurred to justify these apprehensions, or even to show

that any war was raging. We met one day, in the thickest part of the

wood, a dozen or twenty scarecrows, mounted on sorry horses, and armed

with light lances and muskets; but, if these were a fair specimen of

the Granadian chivalry, we should have had little to fear from their

whole array. However, we were all of us desirous to avoid a collision,

for it would certainly seem very ridiculous, after spending one or two

years in earning perhaps as many thousands, to get killed just as we

were ready to enjoy the fruits of our labour. This feeling, I have no

doubt, moderated the ardour of more than one of our number who might

otherwise have had no objection to the excitement of a skrimmage, or

to take up arms in one or the other of the contending parties.

 

We left Leon about the 10th, A. M., and making only a short

journey, stopped for the night at a little Indian village called

Nigaroti--I am not responsible for the spelling--the population of

which could not much have exceeded the number of our own caravan.

It consisted of a small collection of houses or huts built of rude

basket-work, daubed in some cases with clay, and covered with a shaggy

thatch. Each house stood in an enclosure, formed by a hedge of most

magnificent proportions. A species of cactus, planted in a single row,

furnished a green marble wall of lofty columns, standing so close

together that no animal larger than a squirrel could pass between.

These walls were now in a dilapidated condition, reminding the

spectator of the ruins of an ancient temple. Some of the columns were

at least thirty feet in height, while others had been broken off at

a few feet from the ground, and the fragments were still lying where

they had fallen. They were all about eight inches in diameter from top

to bottom, with small rings at regular intervals resembling the joints

of the cane.

 

As there was no hotel, we quartered ourselves upon the inhabitants,

who received us with the warmest demonstrations of friendship, and

instantly set to work to prepare for us the best supper their limited

means would allow. I here first witnessed the operation of making the

tortilla, the favourite, and, as far as I could learn, the only form

in which bread is eaten by the lower classes. At Acapulco and other

cities we had seen them offered for sale in piles six inches high,

and presenting a very tempting appearance. The natives ate them with

great apparent relish, rolling them up into a cylinder, and plugging

the opening with a small stopper of cheese. As we had hitherto,

however, been able to obtain wheaten bread, I had only just tasted

them out of curiosity, when I found they were far from being as good

as they looked. But in this little village flour was, perhaps, never

heard of, and in every house one or more occupants were now busy in

preparing the hot and almost crispy tortilla. I watched the movements

of our dusky maiden with great interest. She first crushed the corn,

previously softened by boiling, into a uniform paste, by means of a

common rolling-pin, then with great dexterity formed it into round

balls or biscuits, one of which she placed on the bottom of a shallow

earthen pan resting on a few embers. With the back of her clenched

hand she spread it out over the dish, till it assumed the form of a

buckwheat cake, though instead of the dimples that come and go on

the surface of the latter, it was all over indented with the print

of her knuckles. When one side was browned the cake was turned, and

as the whole process required but a few minutes we soon had a high

tower of tortillas smoking on our little table. There was the usual

accompaniment of fried eggs and chicken. The tortillas served for

plates as well as napkins, and the whole family stood ready to wait on

us, and watching our every movement with the most ludicrous interest and delight.