Nicaragua

RECEPTION-DAY—GENERAL RESPECT AND ADMIRATION FOR THE UNITED STATES—AN EVENING RIDE—THE PLAZA—CHURCHES—HOSPITAL—THE “JALTEVA”—DESERTED MUNICIPALITY—MELANCHOLY RESULTS OF FACTION—THE ARSENAL—NATURAL DEFENCES OF THE CITY—“CAMPO SANTO”—AN EX-DIRECTOR AND HIS “HACIENDA”—SHORE OF THE LAKE IN THE EVENING—OLD CASTLE—THE “ORACION”—AN EVENING VISIT TO THE SEÑORITASSEÑORITAS—OPERA AMIDST ORANGE GROVES—“ALERTAS” AND “QUIEN VIVAS?”—THE GRANADINAS AT HOME—AN EPISODE ON WOMEN AND DRESS—MR. ESTEVENS—“LOS MALDITOS INGLESES”—A FEMALE ANTIQUARIAN COADJUTOR—“CIGARITAS”—INDIAN GIRLS—COUNTRYMEN—AN AMERICAN “MEDICO”—NATIVE HOSPITALITY TO STRANGERS—THE WAYS INFESTED BY “FACCIOSOS”—AN AMERICAN TURNED BACK—EXPECTED ASSAULT ON THE CITY, AND PATRIOTIC RESOLVES “TO DIE UNDER THE AMERICAN FLAG”—A NOTE ON HORSES AND SADDLES—VISIT TO THE CACAO ESTATES OF THE MALACCAS—THE CACAO TREE—DAY-DREAMS—AN ADVENTURE ALMOST—GRIEVOUS DISAPPOINTMENT—SOMOZA, THE ROBBER CHIEF—OUR ARMORY—FEVERISHNESS OF THE PUBLIC MIND—LIFE UNDER THE TROPICS—A FRIGHTENED AMERICAN, WHO HAD “SEEN SOMOZA,” AND HIS ACCOUNT OF THE INTERVIEW—SOMOZA’S LOVE FOR THE AMERICANS—GOOD NEWS FROM LEON—APPROACH OF THE GENERAL IN CHIEF, AND AN ARMED AMERICAN ESCORT—CONDITION OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS—PROCLAMATION OF THE SUPREME DIRECTOR—DECREES OF THE GOVERNMENT—OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENTS, AND PUBLIC ADDRESSES—HOW THEY EXHIBITED THE POPULAR FEELING—NICARAGUAN RHETORIC—DECISIVE MEASURES TO PUT DOWN THE INSURGENTS—GENERAL CALL TO ARMS—MARTIAL LAW—PUBLICATION OF A “BANDA”—GREAT PREPARATIONS TO RECEIVE THE GENERAL IN CHIEF AND HIS “VETERANOS”—NO FURTHER FEAR OF THE “FACCIOSOS”—A BREAK-NECK RIDE TO THE “LAGUNA DE SALINAS”—A VOLCANIC LAKE—DESCENT TO THE WATER—HOW CAME ALLIGATORS THERE?—NATIVE “AGUARDIENTE” “NOT BAD TO TAKE”—RETURN TO THE CITY—A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION—THE HOST—INCREASING TOLERANCE OF THE PEOPLE—PREPARATIONS FOR “LA MANANA.”

At noon, agreeably to appointment, we were waited upon by the dignitaries of the city, and the commander of the garrison, together with a large number of the leading inhabitants. They all exhibited the same cordiality with the ruder portion of the population, and a degree of refinement and courtesy which would have done credit to more pretending capitals. We were a little startled by the somewhat exaggerated tone of compliment, both in respect to ourselves and our country, which ran through their conversation, and which seems characteristic of the Spanish people wherever found, in the Old World or the New. All concurred in representing the present unsettled state of public affairs as in a great measure due to foreign intervention and intrigue; and referred to the seizure of San Juan, and the English encroachments on their territories, in a tone of indignation and reproach, commensurate with the indignity and outrage to which they had been subjected. They seemed to entertain the highest hopes from the opening of more intimate relations with the United States; but, unacquainted with the nature, constitutional powers, and the policy of our government, these hopes were, as a matter of course, somewhat vague; yet it was not unnatural that, distracted within, and subjected to unscrupulous aggression from without, the United States should be looked to as a conciliator of intestine factions, as a friend, and a protector. I was deeply impressed with the feeling which they manifested, and was convinced that if once treated with consideration, and taught to respect themselves as a nation, there was no reason why the States of the Isthmus should not take a respectable rank amongst the republics of the continent. The interview was highly interesting, and gave me more elevated views of the temper of the people of the country than I had gathered from what had been published concerning them; an impression which a further and more intimate acquaintance only tended to confirm.

Towards evening, in company with Col. Trinidad Salazar, the commandant of the Plaza, we took a ride through the city and its environs. We found that with the exception of the Church of La Mercedes, and the Convent of San Francisco, already mentioned, there were few buildings at all remarkable or imposing. The Parochial Church, on the plaza, is very ancient, and distinguished as containing the bones of several of the first bishops of Nicaragua, which was established as a diocess as early as 1532. The interior was far from imposing. It had some paintings, too ancient to be distinguished, with some indifferent prints of saints, and scenes in the life of Christ and the apostles. Upon one side of the plaza is the façade of the unfinished church of San Juan de Dios, which was designed to be the most beautiful in the city, but for some reason was never finished. The façade is very elaborate, and profusely loaded with ornament. It has been standing in its present condition for more than a hundred years. A hospital has been erected in the area it was intended to occupy, which is supported by a small market tax and voluntary contributions. Buildings of one or two stories, with spacious corridors in front, extend round two sides of the square, in which are some of the principal retail “tiendas” of the city. The wares of the shopkeepers were as conspicuously displayed as in some of the minor streets at home; while in front were the market-women, with fruits, cacao, maize, and all the various edibles of the season. These were generally placed in baskets, or spread on a white sheet on the ground, in a style probably very little different from that practised by the aborigines at the time of the Conquest. All the streets leading from the plaza were barricaded, and we found advance posts of troops in every part of the city.

From the grand plaza we rode through the narrow streets, between long rows of substantial houses, in the direction of the municipality of Jalteva.^[7] Dashing up a broad causeway, with heavy flanking walls, surmounted by urns, we came at once into the second grand plaza. Here we found the buildings more scattered, and of a poorer character; huts of canes alternating with adobe houses and open lots of ground. The plaza was deserted, and as we rode along we observed that the whole quarter seemed depopulated. We found, upon inquiry, that this municipality was the stronghold of the “Calandracas,” and hereditarily jealous of the city proper. This hostility led to the collision of which we had heard, in which the disaffected party had suffered a defeat; whereupon, either from fear, or with a design of organizing for sharper work, they had chiefly fled “al monte” to the fields. Those who remained, with scarcely an exception, had moved, for greater security, within the city. The silence and desolation which reigned in this deserted quarter was a mournful commentary on partisan feuds. A few dogs and unclaimed cattle wandered despondingly amongst the houses, as if in search of their masters; but beyond these there were no signs of life.

Passing the Jalteva, we came into the broad open road leading to Leon, and soon reached a square compact building, which was the arsenal. It was surrounded by a high wall, and at the corners were erected towers, looped for musketry, each containing a guard of soldiers. A cannon looked morosely through the open gateway, around which was a company of lancers, just returned from some expedition. Their lances, to each of which was hung a little red streamer, flashed in the sun as they fell into line on the approach of the commandante; while the guards, on the tap of the drum, leaped to their feet, and presented arms. Just beyond the arsenal is what the commandante called the natural defence of the city. It is a deep, narrow ravine, with absolutely precipitous walls, worn by the rains through the volcanic or calcareous breccia upon which the city is built. It extends on three sides of the town, and can be passed only in one or two places, where lateral inclined planes have been artificially cut from the top to the bottom on one side, and from the bottom to the top on the other. It is a feature of some importance in calculating the means of defending the city, and probably had something to do in determining its site.

From the arsenal we turned off to the left, following a broad, well-beaten path, which wound beneath a complete archway of trees, vines, and flowers, in the direction of the “Campo Santo” or burial place of the city. This is an area of several acres of ground in extent, surrounded by a high wall of adobes, neatly whitewashed, and entered beneath a lofty gateway, surmounted by a cross, and bearing a Latin inscription, which I have forgotten. There was little to see; and, as the gates were shut, we could not enter; so, turning in the direction of the lake, we galloped to the hacienda of Don Jose Leon Sandoval, passing on the way, in a picturesque glen, shadowed over with trees, the “corral” or cattle yard of the estate. A brisk ride through the bushes brought us to the house, built upon a high terrace, overlooking the lake and city, and embowered in palm, marañon, orange, and jocote trees. The proprietor was out somewhere on the estate, and we started to find him, which we soon succeeded in doing. He was mounted on a splendid mule, and just returning from inspecting the day’s work of the “mozos” or what in New England would be called “hired help.” Don Jose proved to be a plainly dressed, substantial person, bearing a close likeness to General Taylor. Upon my mentioning the fact, he bowed low, in acknowledgment, and said that he knew the General was a farmer-soldier and a citizen-President; and he only hoped that the resemblance might extend from person, which was of little, to character, which was of greater, consequence. Don Jose had once been Director of the State, but had resigned the office, preferring, he said, to be a good farmer rather than a poor director. We followed him over various parts of the estate to his indigo vats and drying houses, and to his plantain and cacao walks and corn-fields, all of which we found to be in capital order, and bearing the evidences of intelligence, enterprise, industry, and care.

After a pleasant interview of half an hour, we bade Don Jose “buena tarde” and descended to the shores of the lake, just as the sun was setting, throwing the whole beach in the shade, while the fairy “Corales” were swimming in the evening light. The shore was ten-fold more animated than when we landed the previous day; men on horseback, women on foot, sailors, fishermen, idlers, children, and a swarm of water-carriers, mingling together, gave life to the scene; while boats and graceful canoes, drawn up on the beach, bongos rocking at their anchors outside, the grim old fort frowning above, and the green border of trees, with bars of sunlight streaming between them, all contributed to heighten and give effect to the picture. We rode up the glacis of the old castle, through its broken archway, into its elevated area, and looked out beyond the broad and beautiful lake, upon the distant shores of Chontales, with its earthquake-riven hills, and ragged, volcanic craters. Their rough features were brought out sharply and distinctly in the slanting light which gilded the northern slope of the gigantic volcano of Momobacho, while its eastern declivity slept in purple shadow. We were absorbed in contemplating one by one these varied beauties, when the bells of the city struck the hour of the “oracion.” In an instant every voice was hushed, the horseman reined in his steed, the ropes dropped from the hands of the sailor, the sentinel on the fort stopped short in his round, even the water-jars were left half-filled, while every hat was removed, and every lip moved in prayer. The very waves seemed to break more gently on the shore, in harmony with the vibrations of the distant bells; while the subdued hum of reverential voices filled the pauses between. There was something almost magical in this sudden hush of the multitude, and its apparently entire absorption in devotion, which could not fail deeply to impress the stranger witnessing it for the first time.

No sooner, however, had the bells ceased to toll, and struck up the concluding joyful chime, than the crowd on the shore resumed its life and gayety, while we put spurs to our horses, and dashed through their midst, on our return to the city. The commandante and his companions would only leave me at my door, where we were saluted by our host with “Saved your distance, gentlemen; dinner is ready!”

An evening visit to the Señorita Teresa finished our first entire day in Granada. This young lady had been educated in the United States, spoke English very well, and was withal a proficient in music,—accomplishments which we never before learned to estimate at their true value. It was worth something to hear well executed passages from familiar operas, amidst tangible and not painted orange trees and palms, and in an atmosphere really loaded with tropical perfumes, instead of the odors of oil-pots and gas-lights. Eight o’clock was the signal for general withdrawal from the streets, for then commenced the rigors of the military police, and the city became at once still and quiet. The occasional barking of a dog, the tinkling of a distant guitar, the soughing of the evening wind amongst the trees of the courtyard, the measured tread and graduated “alertas!” of the sentinels, were the only interruptions to the almost sepulchral silence. While returning to our quarters, we were startled by the “Quien vive?” of the sentinel, uttered in a tone absolutely ferocious, and as these fellows rarely parleyed long, we answered with all expedition, “La Patria,” which was followed on the instant by “Que gente?” “Americanos del Norte.” This was enough; these, we found, were magic words, which opened every heart and every door in all Nicaragua. They never failed us. We felt proud to know that no such charm attached to “Ingleses,” “Alemanes,” or “Franceses.”

The day following, in accordance with the “costumbres del pais,” the customs of the country, we returned the visits of the preceding day, and began to see more of the domestic and social life of the citizens of Granada. We found the residences all comfortable, and many elegant, governed by mistresses simple, but graceful and confiding in their manners. They were frank in their conversation, and inquired with the utmost naïveté whether I was married or intended to be, and if the ladies of El Norte would probably visit Granada, when the “Vapores grandes,” the great steamers, came to run to San Juan, and the “Vaporcitas,” steameretts, to ply on the lake and river. They had heard of a Mr. Estevens, (their nearest approach to Stephens,) who had written a book about their “pobre pais,” their poor country, and were anxious to know what he had said of them, and whether our people really regarded them as “esclavos y brutos sin verguenza,” slaves and brutes without shame, as the abominable English (los malditos Ingleses) had represented them. They were also very anxious to know whether the party of Californians which had passed through were “gente comun,” common people, or “caballeros,” gentlemen; upon which point, however, we were diplomatically evasive, for there was more in the inquiry than we chose to notice. One lady had heard that I was a great antiquarian, and anticipatory to my visit, had got together a most incongruous collection of curiosities, from “vasos antiguos,” fragments of pottery, and stone hatchets, down to an extraordinary pair of horn spectacles, and a preposterously distorted hog’s hoof,—all of which she insisted on sending to my quarters, which she did, with some rare birds, and a plate of dulces! At every house we found a table spread with wines and sweetmeats, and bearing a little silver brazier filled with burning coals, for the greater convenience of lighting cigars. I excited much surprise by declining to smoke, on the ground that I had never done so; but the ladies insisted on my taking a “cigarito,” which they said wouldn’t injure a new-born babe, and paid me the compliment of lighting it with their own fair lips, after which it would have been rank treason to etiquette, and would have ruined my reputation for gallantry, had I refused. I at first endeavored to shirk the responsibility of smoking by thrusting it into my pocket, but found that as soon as one disappeared another was presented, so I was obliged “to face the music” in the end. In every sala we found a large hammock suspended from the walls, which was invariably tendered to the visitor, even when there were easy chairs and sofas in the room. This is the seat of honor.

The women of pure Spanish stock are very fair, and have the embonpoint which characterizes the sex under the tropics. Their dress, except in a few instances where the stiff costume of our own country had been adopted, was exceedingly loose and flowing, leaving the neck and arms exposed. The entire dress was often pure white, but generally the skirt, or nagua, was of some flowered stuff, in which case the guipil (anglice, vandyke) was white, heavily trimmed with lace.lace. Satin slippers, a red or purple sash wound loosely round the waist, and a rosary sustaining a little golden cross, with a narrow golden band or a string of pearls extending around the forehead and binding the hair, which often fell in luxuriant waves upon their shoulders, completed a costume as novel as it was graceful and picturesque. To all this, add the superior attractions of an oval face, regular features, large and lustrous black eyes, small mouth, pearly white teeth, and tiny hands and feet, and withal a low but clear voice, and the reader has a picture of a Central American lady of pure stock. Very many of the women have, however, an infusion of other families and races, from the Saracen to the Indian and the Negro, in every degree of intermixture. And as tastes differ, so may opinions as to whether the tinge of brown, through which the blood glows with a peach-like bloom, in the complexion of the girl who may trace her lineage to the caziques upon one side, and the haughty grandees of Andalusia and Seville on the other, superadded, as it usually is, to a greater lightness of figure and animation of face,—whether this is not a more real beauty than that of the fair and more languid señora, whose white and almost transparent skin bespeaks a purer ancestry. Nor is the Indian girl, with her full, lithe figure, long, glossy hair, quick and mischievous eyes, who walks erect as a grenadier beneath her heavy water-jar, and salutes you in a musical, impudent voice as you pass—nor is the Indian girl to be overlooked in the novel contrasts which the “bello sexo” affords in this glorious land of the sun.

We called upon several French and Italian families resident in Granada, but found that a long period of naturalization had completely assimilated them to the natives of the country, with whom they had largely intermarried. But what surprised us most was, that in the best houses it was no uncommon thing to find a shop occupying the “esquina,” or corner, or a room on one side of the court, in which few of the ladies thought it derogatory to their dignity or a violation of propriety, to preside on any necessary occasion. In fact, these shops were generally superintended by the wife of the proprietor, seated with her sewing in her lap, in an easy chair, behind the low counter. And even in entertaining her visitors in the grand sala, it was common for the lady to keep an eye to what was passing in the “tienda,” through a convenient, open door. In the larger establishments, however, there exists all the paraphernalia of clerks and attendants which we find at home.

When we returned from our visits, we found a party of three Americans waiting for us. One was Dr. S., who had resided for many years in the country, where he held the first place as a “medico,” and was a universal favorite amongst all classes of the people. By him we were introduced to the others, both of whom had come out with the company of Californians to which I have alluded. Mr. P., who was to have acted as engineer of the preposterous craft which was anchored off the Castillo, was reduced by illness, and being unable to accompany the party, had abandoned it, and was thus far on his return to the United States; but sick and destitute, was now anxiously awaiting my arrival, to procure the means of reaching home. He, however, was comfortably situated, having been generously and hospitably received by Señor Lacayo, a prominent native merchant, who had, in the current phrase of the country, placed “his house at the disposition” of the stranger. The third person was a young physician from New Haven, from whom we learned that the Californians were still detained at Leon and Chinandega, waiting for a vessel to take them off, in great impatience and discontent. Wearied of the delays, this gentleman had returned on a flying visit to Granada, where he had been staying for a fortnight. Meantime, the disturbances in the country had come to a crisis, and the day of our arrival he had attempted to return to Leon, but was turned back by armed parties on the road, who gave him the unsolicited pleasure of looking down their presented musket-barrels, by way of enforcing their wishes. The doctor, who had met Somoza in times past, and entertained a good deal of faith in his personal influence and prowess, informed us that the rebel chief had once been imprisoned in Granada, and owed it a special spite. He had sworn to burn the city, and the doctor was of opinion that he would keep his word. He thought we might, any night, have an attack; but felt confident that foreigners, keeping out of the way, would sustain no injury. At any rate, if the worst came to the worst, we could all collect together, under the American flag, and between revolvers, rifles, and what not new invention, make a respectable fight against the poorly armed assailants. And by way of encouragement, the doctor gave us an animated account of a party of foreigners, but five or six in number, who some years before had sustained a siege of three days, in this very city, and kept their assailants at bay, until they were dispersed by the troops of the government.

I had arranged that afternoon to ride to the cacao estates called the “Malaccas,” distant about five miles from Granada; and although the city was full of stories about the “facciosos” who infested the country, I persisted in my determination to go. My companions thought they could entertain themselves very well in the city; so I armed Ben, and with an English creole merchant resident here, who kindly furnished horses, started for the Malaccas. We had already discovered that the horses of Nicaragua were of the Arabian stock; and although like the Arab horses small, they were compact, fleet, good tempered, spirited, and of excellent bottom. As all travelling here is performed on horseback or on mules, great care is used in breaking and training saddle beasts, while their price depends less upon their beauty than upon their training. They are all taught a rapid but exceedingly easy gait, between trotting and pacing, called the paso-trote. A well-trained horse strikes at once into this gait, and keeps it steadily from morning to night. I have ridden them from twenty to forty miles at a heat, without once breaking the pace, and with less fatigue than would be occasioned in riding the best saddle-horses in the United States for a distance of five miles. At this gait the horse gets over the level roads of Nicaragua, at from six to eight miles the hour. The same animal is frequently taught several gaits, and may be forced into one or the other by a peculiar pressure on the bit, which is very different from those used in the United States, and gives the most perfect control of the animal to the rider. Besides the paso-trote, which may be called the ordinary gait, the horses are taught an easy amble, the paso-llano, which is very rapid, and yet so gentle that, as observed by a recent Peruvian traveller, the rider may carry a cup of water in his hand without spilling a drop, while going at the rate of six miles an hour. There are also other gaits taught to different horses, which have each their advocates; among them the paso-portante, in which the horse raises the fore and hind foot of each side simultaneously, causing a rapid see-saw motion, not agreeable to riders generally.

The saddles are modifications of the Mexican saddle, with high peaks, over which are thrown gaudily colored sheepskins, here called “pillons,” or “pellons.” The equipment is not complete without a pair of holsters and pistols; and a Nicaraguan “caballero” is never so much in his element as when mounted on a spirited, champing horse, with a fanciful “pillon,” jingling bit, and portentous spurs, his sombrero, covered with oiled silk, set jauntily on the side of his head, with a señora or two in a neighboring balcony to whom he may lift his hat as he passes by. The ordinary saddle, or “albarda,” is a very cheap affair, and will hardly admit of a description which shall be comprehensible to the uninitiated reader. It is sometimes used from preference, but my experience would never lead me to recommend it to any but an inveterate enemy.

The road to the Malaccas passed through an unbroken forest, into which we struck almost as soon as we left the city. It was level, completely arched over with trees, whose dense foliage shuts off the sun; while cactuses, and shrubs whose fragrant flowers almost compensated for the thorns which pricked one’s legs, and scratched one’s hands in endeavoring to pluck them, fenced in the path with a wall of verdure. Here and there we caught glimpses of the lake through a vista of trees, while at intervals, narrow, well-beaten paths branched off to the “hattos” and haciendas which were scattered over the country, away from the principal thoroughfares. We met men and boys driving or riding mules loaded with corn, sacate (grass), fruits, wood, and all the various articles of common use in the city, and occasionally a woman going in with a basket of chickens, sausages, coffee, or cacao, to be offered the next morning in the market. The entire stock, in some instances, was hardly worth a medio (sixpence), but this, it should be remembered, is no insignificant sum, in a country where a rial (twelve and a half cents) is the daily wages of a working man. All these people bowed with the grace of courtiers as we rode by; for all, from the highest to the lowest, from the little Indian boy who clasps his hands before him and says “buena dia, señor,” to the lady who inclines her fan to her lips in token of recognition, have an apparently instinctive sense of politeness.

After riding some miles, we came to open fields, and passed by several fine estates surrounded by ditches and cactus fences in full bloom. The fourth was that which we came specially to visit. A man opened the gate, and we rode in and dismounted under the corridor of the house, which was a large, square structure, built of adobes, and tiled. The proprietor was not at home, and the family, in the unsettled state of the country, had retired to the city. We were nevertheless received with the greatest civility by the mayor-domo, who insisted that we were hot and thirsty, and wanted “algo fresco” and incontinently despatched a boy to get some fresh cocoa-nuts, the milk of which, when the nut is not too much matured, is transparent as water, and makes a cool and delightful beverage,—especially when a drop of brandy is mixed in “to take off the edge,” and prevent fevers! The mayor-domo complained loudly of the condition of public affairs; now was the time for collecting the cacao, but no men were to be had; a few of those who had been employed on the estate were implicated in the insurrection, others had been pressed into the army, and still others had fled to the seclusion of the fields, to avoid the same fate. He had only half a dozen boys and some women to assist him, and they were “sin valor, ninquno,” of no account. He showed us a large square space where the ground was beaten hard and swept clean, in which the nuts, after being removed from the husks, were spread on skins to dry. They required to be turned often to prevent moulding, and after becoming thoroughly dry, had to be carefully assorted, one by one, and packed in skins.

After resting awhile, we mounted again, and riding through a long gravelled walk, completely fenced in and arched over by magnificent mango trees, now literally golden with fruit, and through a vista of orange trees beyond, flanked by marañons, we entered the cacao plantation. It is difficult to describe these plantations; they more resemble beautiful parks of large trees, with broad walks running in every direction, all kept scrupulously neat and clean, than anything else in the United States with which they can be compared. The tree producing the fruit is known to botanists by the generic name of Theobroma, from the Greek, and signifying food for a god. It seldom rises higher than twenty feet; its leaves are large, oblong, and pointed, somewhat resembling those of the cherry tree, but infinitely larger; flowers small, and of a pale red color: they are surrounded by oval-pointed pods, grooved like a musk-melon, although much smaller; the nuts are very numerous, some pods containing as many as fifty; it produces two crops a-year, but is never without some pods on it. The trees are planted about fourteen feet apart, in a good soil. It is peculiarly necessary to defend this tree from the scorching rays of the sun, and at the same time sufficient warmth should be afforded for vegetation; this is done by shading it with the plantain tree and the Erythrina. As the cacao advances in size, the plantain is cut down, the Erythrina, or coral tree, or as it is sometimes called “cacao madre,” mother of the cacao, having attained sufficient height to protect it from the sun. It begins to bear at seven years old, and comes to perfection in about fifteen years. The coral tree grows to about the height of sixty feet, and entirely drops its leaves (in Nicaragua) about the end of March and beginning of April, and then becomes covered with flowers of a bright crimson, and shaped like a cimetar. At this season an extensive plain, covered with cacao plantations, is a magnificent object, when viewed from a height. The tops of the far-stretching forests of Erythrina then present the appearance of being clothed with flames. The cacao, it may be added, is indigenous to America, and became early an article of general consumption by the Spanish Americans, as it had been of the Indians from time immemorial. Subsequently to the Discovery it was introduced into the Canary and Phillipine islands by the Spaniards. It was called tlalcacahuatl by the ancient Mexicans; amongst whom, as also among the natives of Central America, New Granada, and Peru, it was used as money, or a medium of exchange. It is still used as such in the markets of the cities of Granada and Leon. One hundred and fifty of the nuts were formerly valued at a dollar, which is, I believe, their present valuation. The cacao of Nicaragua is regarded as second to none, unless to that of Soconusco, which, during the Spanish dominion, was a monopoly of the crown. It is almost entirely consumed in the country, where it commands double the price of the Guayaquil, that which usually reaches the United States.^[8] The taste for chocolate grows with its use, and hardly any person resides under the tropics for any length of time, to whom it does not become more an article of necessity than luxury. “He who has drunk one cup,” says Cortez, in one of his letters, “can travel a whole day without any other food, especially in very hot climates; for chocolate is, by its nature, cold and refreshing.” And the quaint old traveller in Central America, Gage, devotes a whole chapter to its praise, the manner of its use, and its effects on the human system. He asserts that chocolate “is an Indian name, compounded from atl, which in the Mexican language signifies water, and choco-choco-choco, the sound which water makes when stirred in a cup.” He claims for it a most healthful influence, and bears his testimony as follows: “For myself, I must say, I used it for twelve years constantly, drinking one cup in the morning, another yet before dinner, between nine and ten of the clock; another within an hour or two after dinner, and another between four and five in the afternoon; and when I purposed to sit up late to study, I would take another cup about seven or eight at night, which would keep me waking till about midnight. And if by chance I did neglect any of these accustomed hours, I presently found my stomach fainty. And with this custom I lived for twelve years in these parts, healthy, without any obstructions, or oppilations; not knowing what either Fever or Ague was.” He, however, warns against the use of the cacao before preparation, for the reason that the simple nut, when eaten, as it often is by the Creole and Indian women, “doth notably obstruct and cause stoppings, and makes them look of a pale and earthy color, as do those that eat earthenware and pieces of lime wall.”^[9]

As I have already said, the cacao tree is so delicate, and so sensitive to exposure, that great care is required to preserve it during the early periods of its growth. It commences to bear in seven or eight years, and continues productive for from thirty to fifty years. Capital and time are therefore required to start an estate; but once established, it is easily enlarged by annual additions. One man, it is calculated, is able to take care of a thousand trees, and harvest their crop. As a consequence, cacao estates are more valuable than those of sugar, indigo, cotton, or cochineal. A good plantation, with fair attention, will yield an average annual product of twenty ounces of cacao to every tree, which for one thousand trees equals twelve hundred pounds. At the usual market rate of twenty-five dollars the quintal, this would give three hundred dollars per annum to each thousand trees and each laborer. Owing to a variety of causes,—some of the most important are obvious enough from what I have already said,—this yield is seldom obtained in Nicaragua; but may be when order is fully restored, and labor and its wages properly organized. No means exist for obtaining even an approximate estimate of this branch of production in Nicaragua, and I shall not therefore attempt to present any statistics on the subject, but proceed with my narrative.

I was delighted with the plantation, and after riding for an hour, until we got bewildered amongst the cross-walks and avenues, we began to thread our course back again. This was no easy matter, and we marched and counter-marched for a long time before we struck the right path. This will not appear so surprising when I say that the plantation contained ninety-five thousand trees, which are valued at one dollar each.

Once in the main road, we paced slowly along on our return to the city, with that feeling of satisfaction which is always experienced after visiting an object that more than realizes the anticipation. I began to indulge the pleasing fancy that I might yet come to have a cacao plantation, which would be just the thing for a student or a man who loved his ease. It would require no expensive machinery, no long practice in manipulation of any kind; a boy could go through all the simple processes, and the whole might be left for a year or two without suffering the deterioration of sugar, rice, or cotton plantations. The summers in El Norte, and the winters here amidst the cacao and orange, with only a few days of steaming between,—of course the thing was feasible.

While indulging such reveries as these, my horse, which was the fastest walker, had carried me some distance ahead of my companion, when turning a sharp corner, I came abruptly upon a party of armed men, reclining in easy attitudes under a large cebia tree. I at once drew rein, and they as suddenly leaped to their feet and formed in line. My companion at that moment coming up, hurried past me, in evident anxiety as to the character of the party, and I followed close at his heels. One who seemed to be in command, stepped forward as we approached, exclaiming, “Quien vive?” “Amigos,” friends, replied my companion, cautiously avoiding the pass-word of the government, until he knew whether the party was a strolling band of “facciosos,” or regular troops of the State. Meantime we continued to approach, as if in perfect confidence, until ordered to stop by the person in authority, who advanced a few steps and scrutinized us for some moments, and then, with the air of a man satisfied, motioned us to go on. As I passed, he lifted his hat in recognition, exclaiming, “Adios, Señor Ministro!”

It was a disguised scout from the garrison, on the lookout for a party of insurgents which was reported to be committing some excesses in this direction. I had been quite excited with the prospect of an adventure, and even indulged a vague hope that the one in command might prove to be Somoza himself; the upshot was, therefore, something of a disappointment. An interview with the robber chief, whose name carried terror through the whole country, and a handsome villain withal,—what a paragraph it would have made in these “Incidents of Travel!” I was clearly not in luck, but comforted myself with the possibility of a night assault upon the city, in anticipation of which Ben daily examined our armory, re-capped each formidable Colt, and had even prepared the proper timbers for barricading our house at a moment’s notice. I tried to work myself into a state of excitement, anxiety, and suspense, but it was of no use; we ate and drank inordinately, slept soundly, and altogether voted insurrections to be humbugs and bores.

There was great anxiety for the arrival of the commander-in-chief of the forces of the State, General Muñoz, with reinforcements, and we were amused for a week with rumors that he had just started from Leon with a thousand men,—was within two days’ march,—and then that he had not started at all, that there was trouble in other departments,—in short, the city was in a fever, and full of reports; to which, after a few days, we ceased to listen, or listened only to laugh at them. We almost concurred with the Señorita Teresa in the wish that Somoza or General Muñoz would come,—she didn’t care much which; for in either case this chronic state of alarm would be terminated. Upon the whole, she would rather prefer that the General should arrive, for he was the most polished man in the country, and withal would bring his military band, and then there would be no end to the evening music in the plaza, and the “tertúlias” and balls afterwards!

Between baths in the lake at early dawn, delicious snoozes in hammocks at noon, rides on the beach in the evening, dinners, visits, and a general overhauling of books, papers, and baggage, time passed rapidly and pleasantly enough for a week. During that period, I had put our sick countryman in funds, and he had started from Los Cocos, at the head of the lake, in a bongo owned at San Juan, for that port, there to wait a vessel for the United States. He came one afternoon to bid us good-bye, and as I looked in his pale face, momentarily flushed with the excitement of starting for home and friends, and heard his low, weak voice, I could not help thinking that the poor fellow would never reach his native land, and little supposed then that I should ever see him or hear from him again. But what was our surprise when, some five or six days thereafter, he came trotting into the court on a sorry mule, and in most woful plight. His eyes were very large, and his whole appearance that of a man who bears important news. He did not wait to be questioned, but started off at once with “I’ve seen him, I’ve seen Somoza!” His voice had all come back again. We got the whole of the story directly, told with a naïveté and earnestness which in themselves, apart from the incidents, were convulsing. He had embarked in a small bongo, with a colored gentleman, his wife, and two children, as passengers,—catalogued in the recital as “an old nigger, a fat wench, and two naked picaninnies.” The narrow chopa he had the satisfaction of sharing with these pleasant companions; but after one night’s trial, he had arranged that he might occupy it alone in the afternoons, on condition that his fellow-passengers should have exclusive possession of it the rest of the time. The second night, therefore, he watched the stars and kicked his heels in the bow, and had only just commenced his afternoon’s lease on the succeeding day, and began dreaming of home, when he was aroused by a great commotion and loud words. He found the sails all taken in, a boat full of armed men, with a swivel at the bow, alongside, and a number of others similarly manned close by. His colored companion was dumb, and of a dull ashy color, while the spouse, with a child in each arm, was prone and sobbing in the bottom of the boat. The crew were in a like plight, their teeth fairly chattering with alarm. Standing beside the mast was a tall, graceful man, with a feather in his hat, a red Spanish cloak hanging over one shoulder, a brace of naked pistols stuck in his belt, and a drawn sword in his hand, with its point resting on the rower’s seat beside him,—who was questioning the trembling patron, with bent brow and eagle eyes, in a tone which our friend said would have drawn the truth from a stone. He comprehended at once that this was Somoza, and at first had a notion of taking a shot at him, but thought better of it on the whole, and concluded to watch the turn of events, and so lay down again. The questioning was kept up for a very long time, as it appeared to him, while pretending to be asleep, but nevertheless keeping a sharp lookout. When he had finished, Somoza gave some order to his men, and stepped towards the chopa. Our poor friend thought it all up with him, but the insurgent chief only stooped down and took his arm, exclaiming, with a smile, in broken English, “How do, me amigo Americano?” Greatly relieved, our friend got up, whereupon Somoza dropped his sword, and throwing his arms around him, gave him an embrace, la Española, which made his back ache even now to think of. This was repeated several times, until the pain, overcoming all alarm, he cried in very agony, “No mas, señor, no mas!” No more, sir, no more! But this infliction only terminated to give place to another; for, taking both of our friend’s hands in his own, with the gripe of a vice, he shook them until his arms were on the point of leaving his shoulders; delivering, meantime, an energetic oration, perfectly unintelligible to his auditor, who could only ejaculate, in broken syllables, “Si, señor! si, si, señor!!” “yes,“yes, sir! yes, yes sir!!” This finished, Somoza took a splendid ring from his finger, and insisted on placing it on the hand of our friend, who, however, looking upon it in the double light of stolen property and a bribe, sturdily refused to accept it. He gathered that Somoza was going to attack San Carlos, and thus get possession of the arms and ammunition stored there, and of which he stood in much need. Somoza parted from him with much kindness, and after giving some orders in a threatening tone to the patron, retired to his own boat; whereupon the patron and his crew picked up their oars and pulled like mad, on the back track towards Granada. The last glimpse that was had of Somoza, he was standing in the stern of his boat, conspicuous amongst his half-naked men, from his red cloak and dancing plume, worn after the fashion of the mailed conquistadors.

Somoza, we afterwards learned, affected great attachment to the Americans, and at an early stage of his operations, had sent a courier to our Consul, bearing a letter full of assurances of good feeling, and expressing his determination after “regulating the Government,” of proceeding to San Juan to expel the English “ladrones.” He was nevertheless accused of being in the English interest, and acting directly or indirectly under British instigation.

I have, in a preceding chapter, anticipated the result of Somoza’s visit to San Carlos, in its capture and that of our fat friend the commandante. The capture was made without firing a gun, nor was it attended with excesses of any kind.

With the information thus obtained of the whereabouts and destination of Somoza, the long-expected attack on the city receded in the distant perspective, and I resolved to proceed at once to Leon, especially as I began to entertain suspicions that the obstacles in the way had been magnified with a view of keeping us in Granada as pledges for its safety. That afternoon, however, a courier, which I had despatched to Leon, returned, bringing positive intelligence that General Muñoz was on the road, and at that moment at the large Indian town of Masaya, half a day’s march distant, where he had arrested a number of persons implicated in the insurrection, and, in virtue of extraordinary powers, conceded by Government, was engaged in trying them by the summary process of martial law. He brought advices from Mr. Consul Livingston, that a party of twenty-five volunteers from among the Californians stopping in Leon had been furnished with horses by the Government, and would set out in a day or two for Granada, to escort the Legation to the capital. He also brought a number of the Governmental decrees and proclamations, showing that the state authorities were taking the most efficient means in their power to put down the insurgents and restore the peace of the State. Perhaps the mode of precedure cannot be better shown than by the following proclamations, decrees, and announcements, from the official bulletins, which will also serve to give an insight into the nature of the troubles which afflicted the State, and illustrate the style of composition, and the character of the appeals made use of by those in public station. The latter were of necessity adapted to touch the popular mind, and must therefore, give us some idea of its bent, the principles which it regarded as most important to be sustained, and the dangers most essential to be arrested. I have already intimated that the existing troubles had their primary origin in the virulence of the parties which divided the State; but that the proximate cause of the insurrection was the malefactor, Somoza, who had gathered a considerable number of reckless characters around him, and set all law at defiance. At first, and until overt acts were committed, such was the strength of party feeling, it is not impossible that the opposition to the Government was disposed to regard the movements of Somoza with indulgence, if not positive favor. But when it became apparent that his blows were aimed at all order, and that his real objects were revenge and plunder, party distinctions were forgotten; the opposition no longer looked upon his acts in the simple light of being embarrassing to the Government, but as directed against themselves and the body politic, and, forgetting all their previous predilections, heartily seconded the measures which were adopted to restore the public peace.

In one of the public papers of the time it was said: