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

by Anne Cary Maudslay; Alfred Percival Maudslay

As soon as this matter had been seen to, we made a prospecting journey to the ruins on foot; the distance was about six miles, and for the first half of it the track ran through woodland which from time to time had been cleared for plantations, then we crossed two small savannahs and entered on a heavier forest which envelops the ruins and clothes the sierras above. Half a mile before reaching the ruins we began the ascent of the broken limestone cliffs and slopes which form the scarp of the plateau, or rather the series of terraces, on which the buildings are raised, and we were soon scrambling over mounds of broken masonry, so thickly covered with vegetation that it was with difficulty they could be distinguished from the rocky ground around us. As yet, no buildings had been in sight, when all of a sudden we were brought to a standstill by the lofty basement of the so-called Palace. We spent the rest of the day in cutting our way through the tangled growth which surrounds the buildings, and returned to the village in the evening well satisfied with what we had seen. Before the end of a week the track to the ruins had been cleared, and Mr. Price had engineered log-bridges over the muddy-banked streamlets which crossed the path, so that pack-mules could pass in safety, and we prepared to leave the village and take up our quarters in the Palace. Just as we were ready to make a start M. Chambon turned up from Menché, and we all set off for the ruins together. The road was in fairly good order, although somewhat muddy. On arriving at the ruins we tied up our mules at the foot of the Palace mound and set to work to carry up the baggage and arrange our beds and camp-furniture in the house on the west side of the Eastern Court, which was chosen as the driest place to be found.

The mozos had already done something towards clearing the house of rubbish and cutting away with their knives the rank vegetation immediately around it. When I used the word ‘driest’ it was only as a term of comparison, for the house was anything but dry. The great forest around us hung heavy with wet, the roof above us was dripping water like a slow and heavy rainfall, and the walls were glistening and running with moisture, so that it took us some time to select places for our beds, where the drip was lightest, and then to protect them with waterproof coverings. An hour before sunset the mozos set out on their return to the village, taking the mules with them, and we three were left to make the best shift we could in our damp abode.

Day by day, as the vegetation was cleared away and the sunlight let in on it, our house became drier and some of the discomfort disappeared; then there came the repetition of the old old trouble, which has haunted me since my expeditions began—a message was sent from the village that no mozos could come to work for some days on account of a fiesta. There was no help for it, so I determined to use the time in a journey to Monte Cristo, to arrange for the transport of the rest of my baggage which was still stored there, and I started off with M. Chambon, who was continuing his travels through Mexico. We slept the first night at Santo Domingo, where we engaged a muleteer and some pack-mules, and set out the next morning very lightly loaded and hoped to arrive early at Monte Cristo; but before many hours were passed we had completely lost patience with the continual stoppages and delays on the part of the surliest and most ill-mannered arriero it has ever been my fate to encounter, and a friend whom he had picked up on the way. At last we could stand them no longer and rode on by ourselves, preferring our somewhat doubtful chance of finding the shorter road to Monte Cristo, along which we intended to travel; however, it turned out all right, and a little after dark we rode into the village, where Don Carlos gave us a most kindly welcome and offered us the use of our old quarters.

In front of Don Carlos’s house an awning had been stretched across the grass-grown street, and a wooden floor laid down to form a ball-room for the villagers, for the morrow was Shrove Tuesday, and we learnt that in Monte Cristo the Carnival is a matter of no small importance. All was quiet when we arrived, but we were told that dancing had been kept up the night before from dusk to dawn, and we had hardly finished our supper when the company began to flock in to resume the revels. The wooden steps of the house formed seats on one side of the floor, chairs and benches were set round on the others, and every seat was soon occupied, whilst a happy crowd—smoking, chatting, and laughing—filled up the street. Then the band of six musicians, three of them performers on the most strident of brass instruments, struck up a Zapateado, and dancing began. Zapateado followed Zapateado with scarcely an attempt at any other dance, and I seem in writing of it to hear the monotonous rhythmic clatter of the dancers’ feet still in my ears. How can a Zapateado be described? It is something like a prolonged Scotch reel with all the flings left out, but, indeed, any part of a Scotch reel is too cheerful to compare it with. However, if the dancing was dull the scene in itself was bright enough, for all were dressed in their best, and the women had decked themselves freely with streamers of bright-coloured ribbons; but, alas! they had spoilt costumes which were otherwise picturesque by the addition of hats covered with tawdry artificial flowers imported from abroad, and disfigured the one beauty which a half-caste woman can always boast—her abundant and glossy hair.

The “Capitana,” a handsome woman who had been elected to lead the revels, soon spied us out and came with her attendants to ask for a contribution to the expenses. By eleven o’clock both Chambon and I had seen enough of the dancing, and our forty-mile ride, made doubly tedious by our futile efforts to drive the pack-mules, and our squabbles with the arriero, had so tired us out that not even the brazen strains of the band or the constant patter of the dancers’ feet twenty yards from our door could keep us from a sound night’s sleep.

I woke up at dawn just as the ball was breaking up, and turned over in my hammock for another nap, confident that no business arrangements would be attended to on that day. Indeed all day long the streets were deserted and the village hushed in a more than Sabbath calm. For two nights the dance had been kept up all night through, and one more night would finish it. It is the one great excitement of the year, and I was told that the women would pledge their labour as servants for months ahead in order to raise a few dollars with which to buy ribbons and artificial flowers—so as to enjoy three days of butterfly-life, to be inevitably followed by month after month of the monotonous labour of grinding corn and toasting tortillas, until the three happy days came round again. Towards evening the village began to wake up again, but the weather was threatening and a shower delayed the arrival of the company until about eight o’clock; then the same monotonous dance and the same terribly strident music began again. Escape was impossible, for there was absolutely nowhere to go to, so we strolled about, smoked cigarettes, and chatted with our acquaintances on the steps of Don Carlos’s house until midnight, when we turned into our hammocks; but the braying of the brass, the ceaseless repetition of the same tunes over and over again, and the interminable patter of heel and toe on the hollow board floor made sleep impossible. A little after four o’clock I fell into a doze only to be aroused again by the arriero hammering at the door and asking for the loads for his mules. He was as impudent and surly as ever, and had evidently joined in the festivities as far as the drink was concerned; but I gave him his cargoes and told him to load up and go on ahead, as I had still some matters to arrange before I could start for the ruins. The dance was still going on although the dawn was breaking and the music of the band was getting woefully unsteady.

Chambon and I turned out of our hammocks about six o’clock, and were only half-dressed when the music ceased, and there came a thundering knock at the door. As soon as I opened it three or four of the dancers pushed their way in, and their spokesman told me, in a most polite and measured tone, that they had been appointed as a deputation to wait on me and inform me that a resolution had been unanimously carried to the effect that the Carnival could not be finished until Don Alfredo had danced a Zapateado.

Meanwhile laughing faces were thrust through the crack of the door, which almost before we knew it was pushed open and the dancers and their friends flocked in and ranged themselves round the walls of our great barn-like chamber. The band took up its position at the far end and with much gravity and a low bow the spokesman led out the “Capitana” in front of me where I was standing with a sponge in one hand and a towel in the other; another damsel was led up to Chambon, who had his night garments hanging over his arm; the band struck up and we had to dance our first Zapateado amidst a chorus of hand-clapping and ‘bravos.’ It was all as orderly and good-tempered a frolic as possible, and when the dance was over we were overwhelmed with kindly and pretty speeches; then the whole company formed up in couples, with the band leading, and marched round the village, each man leaving his partner at her own door.

An hour or so later I strolled up the village street, and much to my disgust found the loaded pack-mules wandering about in different directions, and the arriero, who should have been well on his way to Palenque, quietly sitting on a doorstep smoking a cigarette. In spite of his grumbles and growls I soon had his mules together again and hustled him off; but just as he was passing the Comandante’s house, at the edge of the village, he fired a parting speech over his shoulder at me, the exact words of which I did not catch, but it was certainly not complimentary. However, I took no notice of it and was congratulating myself that the mules were well under weigh, and that I should see nothing of them or the surly muleteer until I should overtake them in the evening; but I reckoned without the Comandante, who had overheard the speech from his house, and before I could understand what was up, had darted out, caught the arriero by his collar, pulled him off his mule, and called to two of his men to carry him off to prison. As soon as the torrent of words with which he overwhelmed his prisoner was at an end, he turned to me and offered a thousand apologies for the insult I had received from a savage, a bushman, who did not know how to treat a gentleman, or how to conduct himself with decency when he left his native wilds and entered into a civilized town, but the lesson must be learnt and an example should be made of him. Of course I expressed my profound thanks and then dashed off to catch one of the pack-mules who was attempting to scrape off his pack against the overhanging bough of a tree, whilst the Comandante, having vindicated the civilization of Monte Cristo, returned to his hammock to finish his broken sleep. All hope of making a start for Palenque was at an end, so I collected the straying mules together and drove them back along the silent street. Luckily Don Adolfo, the only man in the village who had not been to the Carnival ball, was up and about, and he kindly helped me to unload the mules, and then asked me to stay and share his breakfast. In the afternoon the villagers began to wake up again, and there was a preliminary interchange of courteous messages between myself and the Comandante; later on I ventured to call on him, and after many polite speeches, in which we deplored the wanton ways of ignorant and savage men who were not “gente de razon,” at last in deference to my urgent request (which I was assured showed the goodness of my heart even when dealing with an unworthy subject), and in order that I should personally suffer no inconvenience, the Comandante said that he would on this one occasion overlook the arriero’s offence and order his immediate release. As soon as the fellow was free I made him load up his mules and bundled him out of the village, as I knew that there was a wayside rancho a few miles distant which he could reach before nightfall.