A Glimpse at Guatemala / And Some Notes on the Ancient Monuments of Central America

by Anne Cary Maudslay; Alfred Percival Maudslay

On another day, accompanied by Gorgonio and a Ladino guide, we went to look at some other ruins to the north-east of the village. It was a most charming ride through a well-watered park-like grass valley, the hills on either side covered with well-grown oaks and pines, and bounded to the north by the high forest-clad sierra. We passed out of this valley through a gap in the sierra in a northerly direction and rode through pretty little valleys cleared for cultivation. The timber improved the higher we mounted, until the ocote pine gave way to white pines and cypresses and the forest on the hills around us was a close growth of magnificent trees. A ride of about an hour and a half brought us to the valley where the ruins stood. The soil was covered with tuft grass sometimes shoulder high, and it was not easy to make out the plan of the foundations, but as usual we found a well-defined plaza. The mound at the end of it was long and low and did not differ from the others in the neighbourhood, and could not have supported a stone-roofed building. Inside the plaza, where the altar mounds usually stand, we could just with difficulty trace the remains of two small oratories, which did not measure more than 3-1/2 by 7 feet. A small temple mound stood apart towards the west, and there were traces of building on the edges of the valley; but the entire group of ruins was small and of no great importance and we were led to believe that similar small groups abound in the country around.

Gorgonio told us that a feeling had sprung up against us amongst the villagers owing to reports that we had come to spy out the land with a view to starting cattle ranches, and hunting for treasure amongst the ruins, and it required some powers of persuasion to convince them that we were travelling for pleasure and had no intention either of buying up their lands or digging for an imaginary treasure. The ordinances issued from time to time by the Government prohibiting excavations and the removal of sculptures and pottery have confirmed both Indians and Ladinos in the belief that the mounds contain hidden treasure, and the result may easily be disastrous, for it is as likely as not that the Indians may themselves begin rummaging amongst the ruins in search of treasure which does not exist, and will destroy in the process much that, although it is valueless to them, is of the highest importance to the archæologist.

We had now had a good rest and were prepared to continue our journey. When I came out of my cell on the morning of the 3rd February, ready for the start, I found the villagers assembled in front of the convento, erecting triumphal arches decorated with pine-boughs and strips of blue and white paper, the colours of the State. Fresh pine-needles were being strewn on the floor of the gallery, and the kitchen department was in a very excited condition, for the Jefe Político was reported to be close at hand. It was clearly time for us to be off, as no offer of payment would buy us a chicken for luncheon; so wishing the great man a good appetite for the very substantial breakfast which was being prepared for him, we rode on our way.

Our next halting-place was to be Belehú, said to be about seven and a half leagues distant. The track passed through groves of pine and oak, opening now and again on beautiful grassy valleys, where cattle were peacefully grazing. There was something wonderfully exhilarating in these early morning rides. The cool freshness of the sparkling air, the brilliant blue of the skies flecked with fleecy clouds chasing one another in endless succession, the beauty of the wayside flowers, the various notes of the strange birds, all raised one’s spirits until one felt inclined to shout with delight. This may read like a fanciful exaggeration, but it is an actual fact, which repeated itself on every morning’s ride through the Altos. But to go on with our journey. We stopped for breakfast at the little village of Santa Cruz, and were there detained for two hours waiting for the cargadores who, as usual, lagged behind. However, we were fortunate in falling in with a party of Coban Indians who were returning to their homes by way of Belehú, and were able to engage their assistance as carriers and thus make sure of our dressing-bags and comforts for the night.

After breakfast we began an ascent through groves of oak and pine trees adorned with blossoming orchids and great bunches of green and orange-coloured mistletoe. We were now on the high ridge of hills which runs eastward into the great bend of the Rio Negro. After sweeping round this promontory the river flows almost due west to Chixoy, and then takes another sharp bend to the north, disappearing from view in a great black gorge of the mountains. The scenery was magnificent: the bold sierra to the north was wooded to its summit, and three thousand feet below us the river wound like some huge green serpent stealing through the grass. On the lofty ridge we were traversing the air reached us cleared and purified by the stormy winds of the Mexican Gulf, and was fresh and cool both in the morning and afternoon; but it had parted with its last drops of moisture on the opposite hills, so that one drawback to our journey through this enchanting country was the lack of water. The beds of the little mountain streams were all dried up, and we found only one spring at which the animals could drink throughout the whole day’s ride.

We were still riding along the ridge, uncertain how far we might be from our destination, when night came upon us. Both my mule and I were tired, and we had already exceeded the distance I expected to travel; but we had still to wander on along what seemed to me an interminable winding path. Again and again I thought we were at our journey’s end, but the lights ahead of us proved to be fireflies which flitted off at our approach. At last we caught sight of a dim flicker of light which did not elude us, and proved to be that of a solitary tallow dip burning before the altar in the Cabildo of Belehú. We found the village to consist of a thatched roof cabildo, an outhouse, and two or three Indian huts. The Cabildo had but one room, which served both as town hall and chapel. Some Indians, who were praying before the shrine when we rode up, received us hospitably and at once set off for the Alcalde, who came and placed the room at our disposal, and kindled a fire for us in the outhouse. The little room was clean and sweet-smelling, with a carpet of fresh pine-needles, and pine-boughs hung around the walls, again in anticipation of a visit from the Jefe. At one end stood the altar decorated with artificial flowers and coloured papers, and edged with a row of extinct candle-stumps. On a small table covered with a white cloth reposed the silver-headed stick of the Alcalde, and on the altar itself lay the wands of office of the Alguacils and Mayores.

My weariness disappeared before the hope of hot coffee and a wash; but in part I was doomed to disappointment, for just as we were making ourselves comfortable and setting up our beds, Gorgonio came in with a long face to tell us that there was no water to be got within a league and a half, and that the supply brought in the morning for the needs of the villagers was exhausted! After some hunting about we managed to secure half a kettle full of the precious liquid for the coffee; but the poor mules had to go waterless, and content themselves with the fresh green grass, of which luckily there was a good supply, and our baths had to be put off until the morning.

We were destined to receive that night yet another shock, for while preparing supper and chatting with the Indians round the fire in the outhouse, we learnt that there was no road out of the village practicable for mules except that by which we had arrived. The road we had been told of as leading south across the river to Cubulco was a myth: it was a mere track hardly passable for Indians carrying loads, and altogether impossible for animals. Here was a dilemma! We were caught in the great bend of the river with no way to get out of it without retracing our steps, which we were most unwilling to do, and the only bridge over the river down stream was at Chixoy, to reach which we should have to return at least as far as Santa Cruz before descending into the valley, and when we had crossed it we should be as far as before from Rabinal. After many questionings and much interpretation, we learnt that the track used by the Indians going to Coban followed the crest of the hill for some five or six miles to the eastward, and then made a rapid descent to the river at Agua Blanca. The track along the high ground was said to be good, but the descent impossible for loaded mules; however, so loth were we to turn back, that we determined to try it, and the Alcalde was told to engage some Indians to relieve the mules of their loads during the steep descent.

We were up early the next morning, but not early enough for the Indians, who, the day being Sunday, arrived at dawn to say their prayers before the altar; and I was obliged to barricade the door against one devout person, who tried to force his way in before I was dressed. As soon as possible I opened the door for them, and in they came, and, quite regardless of us or our doings, lighted their candles and knelt before the altar at their devotions. There was no leader and no regular service; each man said his prayers out loud, and from one who prayed in Spanish we caught now and then a few sentences recounting the story of his pilgrimages and naming the offerings he had given at various shrines. In a few minutes their prayers were over, and devoutly crossing themselves they left the room.

By the time we had finished our coffee the mozos were ready to start, and we rode for about two leagues on a fair track, now through woodland and now through milpas and bright green patches of sugar-cane, enjoying charming views of the wooded ridge we were leaving behind us and of the lofty mountains on the far side of the valley. At a distance of about five miles from the village we came to a rivulet, where the animals were at last able to quench their thirst, and two miles further on the steep descent of nearly four thousand feet began. Here we halted to unload the mules and give over their burdens to the care of the Indian carriers. We did not unsaddle the animals, but were careful to remove stirrups and stirrup-leathers, and to see that all straps and girths were secure. My husband and I led the way, keeping well ahead of the mules, lest one of them should roll over us. It was an exceedingly rough and difficult walk, and we were more than three hours accomplishing it. Two of the mules fell, and the horse rolled over; but none of them were hurt, and we all arrived safely at the river.