It was an old, weatherbeaten town. A river wandered through it, bordered by high cement walls, and spanned by an aged stone bridge of many arches. The streets were hilly. Sidewalks might be level, but after one had followed them for a certain distance, one was apt to find himself ten feet above the driveway, sometimes able to descend by a flight of steps, but usually forced to jump or retrace his way. The houses were aged and bullet-scarred. If any of them had been constructed within the past forty years, the climate had quickly given it an appearance of venerability.
The central plaza was unattractive. There were a few palms and much purple bougainvillea, but they were surrounded by a rickety railing green with mildew, and interspersed with unattractive monuments. The buildings facing the plaza were of nondescript architecture. On one side was a yellowed cathedral, with several varieties of weeds sprouting in niches originally intended for images of the saints. On another was a row of arched portales, of flimsy wooden structure, housing several courtrooms, a barber shop, a fashionable club, and a number of cheap saloons. On the other two sides were stores.
The most imposing edifice in the city was the Presidential Palace. It stood upon the river bank, towering above massive ramparts like an ancient feudal castle. From its loop-holed walls machine-guns could sweep the old Spanish bridge. And from its windows the president could maintain a watchful eye upon the National Treasury across the street—a dilapidated old building whose contents at the moment consisted principally of a national debt.
FROM HIS PALACE THE PRESIDENT COULD WATCH THE TREASURY TO SEE THAT NO ONE STOLE THE NATIONAL DEBT
Why any one should fight for possession of this city, with its depleted finances, was a mystery later explained.
“The government took in eight million pesos last year,” said a well-posted American resident, “and only spent five million, yet it describes itself as penniless, and pays only the soldiers and police, keeping such employees as the school teachers waiting six months for their salaries. Three million pesos, almost half the country’s receipts, have disappeared. That’s why everybody is constantly squabbling for the presidency of the republic. That’s why Tegucigalpa remains the most ramshackle capital in Central America.”
VII
The current political controversy was but a typical incident in the history of Honduras.
The term of President Rafael López Gutiérres had come to an end. During his two and a half years of office, he had weathered thirty-three insurrections. He was ready to retire. But his fellow politicians, although they had already prospered to the extent of three million pesos, demanded that he follow the Central-American custom of turning over his office to one of their own group, in order that their prosperity might continue. And the President gave his support to his personal friend, Bonilla.