I believe the road along which I journeyed lay in the midst of a fertile and pleasing tract,—I believe, I say; for I own I saw nothing of it. The river along which Ï walked seemed silver, molten silver, to me; the fruit-trees bore apples of pure gold; the stars which studded the morning sky seemed sapphires and diamonds; the dewdrops on the grass were opals all. If I sat down to rest myself, I instantly took one of my precious bags from my pocket, to gaze at the bright treasures it contained, and feast my eyes with brilliancy.
At last I found myself on the great high road, and, as the sign-post told me, only “très léguas”—three leagues—from Guajuaqualla. For a few copper coins I obtained a seat upon a peasant's “carro,” and journeyed along more agreeably, secretly laughing to myself at the strange conveyance that carried “Cæsar and his fortunes.”
The peasant was an old man who lived by selling watermelons, gourds, and cucumbers in the city, and knew most of its well-known inhabitants. It was, therefore, a good opportunity for me to learn something of those in whom I was interested. He told me that the banker Don Xafire Hijaros had died several years ago, but that his son Manuel carried on the business, and was reputed to be the richest man in Guajuaqualla. It was said that the great wealth of the house had been accumulated in ways and by means that would not bear too close scrutiny. Large sums had been, it was alleged, lodged in his hands by negroes and Indians working at the mines, the owners of which were often made away with,—at least, few of those who made large deposits ever lived to claim them. The peasant told me several stories in illustration of this suspicion; but although they certainly did make an impression upon me, I attributed much to the exaggeration so common to every piece of local gossip, and I had seen enough in the world to know how frequently successful industry meets disparagement.
As for Don Estaban Olarez, the old man told me that he had once been extremely rich, but that certain speculations he had entered into having proved unfortunate, he had lost the greater part of his fortune, and lived now in a state of comparative retirement about a league from Guajuaqualla. This piece of news had not the depressing effect upon me it might be supposed, since I augured that a rich son-in-law would be less scrupulously interrogated by the broken merchant than by the millionnaire. I even speculated on the manner I should adopt to dazzle him by my splendor, and with what cold and cutting irony I would address the Fra Miguel, and thank him for the considerate kindness with which he had repaid my services. Haughty and proud, with a dash of condescension,—“that must be my tone,” said I; and so I went on, like my prototype in the Eastern tale, ruminating upon my power and my merciful disposition, till I had warmed my blood to a very good tyrant pitch, from which state I was aroused by the guard at the gate of the town asking if I had anything with me which should pay custom.
“A poor traveller with his knapsack,” said I, “may surely pass freely.”
“Vaya con Dios,” said he, carelessly, and I entered the city.
Although the little plain in which Guajuaqualla stands is more favorable as a site than the narrow gorge where Chihuahua is situated, the city itself is inferior to the latter. Built irregularly, not only as chance or caprice directed, but sharing in all the vicissitudes of speculation which the mines afforded, great palaces stand by the side of mean hovels, and gorgeous churches are flanked by abodes of squalid poverty. Streets, properly speaking, there were none. Each choosing the spot for his house at will, and as the city was founded in troubled times, when lawless violence was unrestrained,—the fortress-like character of the buildings was often conspicuous. Massive iron bars and stanchions protected the windows of the ground-floors; heavy fastenings secured the doors, whose surface was a fretwork of iron. Loop-holes for musketry usually guarded each side of the entrance, and a “grille,” like that of a convent, showed that no stranger could be admitted uninterrogated. Many of the houses were surrounded by regular outworks of moat and bastion, while here and there an old rusty cannon, half hid among the weeds, would show more pretentious, though possibly not very efficient, means of defence.
Of shrines, holy wells, and altars there was no end. The superstitious character of the Gambusino life had been adroitly laid hold of by the priests, who rarely fail to turn each phase of existence to their own profit, and, in this spot, the priestly hierarchy appeared to have nothing so near at heart as the success of the “Placers.” Here were pictured virgins, looking blandly down at a group of very ill-favored half-breeds, at a washing; there was an old negro presenting a massive lump of gold to St. Joseph, who, with a sly look, seemed to promise not to forget the donor. St. Francis himself, pick in hand, was seen laboring at the head of a sturdy gang of workmen, and angels of all sizes appeared to busy themselves in gold-seeking, as though it were their natural pastime.
Upon several of the altars, pieces of solid gold and silver lay, in a security that said much for the religious zeal of the inhabitants, while lamps of pure silver hung in a profusion on every side,—surrounded by votive offerings of the same metal,—such as shovels, barretas, picks, and sieves. Nor did piety limit itself merely to incentives to “stand well with the saints;” some most terrible examples of the opposite line of conduct were conspicuously displayed. Pictures representing dreadful catastrophes, by falling masses of rock, irruptions of torrents, and down-pouring cataracts, showed what fates were ever in store for those who “forgot the Church.” And, as if to heighten the effect, whenever a cayman or a jaguar was “sloping off” with a miner in his mouth, a respectable saint was sure to be detected in the offing, wiping his eyes in compassion, but not stirring a finger to his assistance.
I will not say that these specimens of pictorial piety induced any strong religious feeling to my mind, but they certainly amused me highly; and although hungry from a long fast, I stopped full twenty times on my way to the Posada to gaze and wonder at them.