A pleasant air of prosperity pervades the settlement of Coban. Fortunately the touch of modern European influence has in no way lessened the attractiveness of the native surroundings, and for the first time we found comfort united with picturesqueness under the lovely skies of these tropical highlands.

The cottages of the natives stand apart from one another in gardens of flowering shrubs, fruit-trees, and rose-bushes, many of them half-buried in the thick foliage of coffee-trees, and they form a pleasant setting for the central group of public buildings and the substantial, comfortable, and characteristically southern houses of the well-to-do planters and merchants. Although the Indian cottages are mostly of the wattle-and-thatch order, there are not wanting stone-built and red-tiled dwelling-houses amongst them; and there is also an intermediate form of house peculiar to the neighbourhood of Coban in which the walls are made of “chute,” the roughly-squared trunks of tree-ferns, set close together in the ground and slightly tapering towards the top. Unlike timber, these fern-posts are entirely unaffected by moisture, so that, although the butt-end of the post is embedded in the ever-damp soil, it will last for centuries, and chutes from an old house will sell just as well as new ones.

The more imposing houses afford shelter both to the head of a family and the family saint—for every well-to-do Indian affords himself a saint, whether in the form of a framed print or a sculptured effigy made in Europe or imitated in the country by the clever native carvers in orange-wood. The decoration of the saint’s altar on festal occasions is attended to by the women of the family and their female friends, and they often display wonderful if eccentric taste, using chiefly flowers—and amongst these the gorgeous spikes of Bromelias and MusÆ play a prominent part—or fruits, either singly or strung in garlands. They shape curious figures in soft clay and clothe them with variegated petals, or build stiff porches of cane and cover them with green and purple Canna-leaves. If the occasion is one of especial rejoicing money will be spent, some going to the priest to pay for masses, but far the larger amount finding its way to the aguardiente shop. Such private celebrations are, however, not of frequent occurrence, and more generally the functions are limited to keeping the “novena,” or nine-days’ vigil, before the saint’s day, which may be described as a daily prayer-meeting, where if refreshments are offered by the hosts they include only “atol” and “batido” and such-like harmless preparations to the exclusion of stronger drinks.

The history of a family settlement is usually somewhat as follows:—A married Indian will build for himself a rancho of wattle, chute, or stone, according to his wealth or position, and as his family and needs increase will add to it not additional rooms, but separate ranchos one after the other, until, in patriarchal fashion, he lives surrounded by his married sons (rarely more than two in number) and their children, who work and care for him with a devotion that, if filial, is certainly utterly undemonstrative. The parent couple always keep the best house and share it with the favoured saint. When death has at last removed both the old people the heir takes possession of the property and very speedily gets rid of his brothers and their belongings, who then have to find new houses for themselves.

The township of Coban is divided into eleven “barrios” or wards, each named after a different saint; and in the old days, when the Indians were still under priestly management, each “barrio” had its religious community, the membership of which conferred a certain distinction and was confined to Indians of wealth and family. These communities were called “cofradias,” and became of great local importance; they owned lands, built houses dedicated to the saint whose name they bore, and in course of time accumulated small funds of money, which they loaned out to members at the trifling interest of about fifty per cent. It was looked on as an honour to hold one of these loans, because the interest went towards defraying the expenses on the festal day of the saint; and as each Cofradia thought its own saint far superior to all others, it naturally regarded its feast day as the most important day in the whole year. The ceremonies began with early mass in the Great Church, where the worshippers had hung the walls with numerous cages containing pet mocking-birds and pito-reales, who joined their voices to the hymns of praise which rose through an atmosphere dim and heavy with the smoke of many candles and the mixed fragrance of liquidambar incense and pine-needles. When the service was over, a pompous and solemn procession was formed to conduct the saint from the church (which was his usual place of abode) to the gorgeously adorned cofradia-house, where the whole day was spent in rites that strongly smacked of ante-Christian times. The saint’s house was transformed into a gay palace by the erection of “Sarabandas,” high framework affairs, brilliant with decorations of leaves and fruits. There would be music, not only by the strolling marimba player, who inevitably turns up at all fairs and festivals, but by an orchestra of harp, violin, guitar, and guitarilla, for the Indians of the Vera Paz are a musical people, and they played original Indian tunes to which the traditional dances, the “deer and hounds,” the “monkey-dance,” “death-dance,” or the “Moros and Christianos,” were performed with becoming gravity by untiring young bucks, whilst inside the house, before the saint, the “zon” would be solemnly gone through by the elders.

My informant on these points had often been present at such meetings, and tells me that the courteous invitation to walk in and join the revels was always extended to a passing foreigner. The proceedings are described as characteristically Indian, crowded in the first place, and smelly; then, as the spirits of the partakers rose with the effects of frequent nips of aguardiente and abundant food cooked to their taste with liberal seasonings of garlic, onions, achiote, and chili, they would gradually grow more and more noisy and uproarious; but however lively they might get in the course of the day they would never turn quarrelsome, and, if anything, the tipsy Indian would be more amiable and more communicative than the same man when sober.

After the revolution of 1870 and the fall of the ecclesiastical party from power the newly constituted Government decreed the suppression of all religious societies (excepting the Sisters of Charity), and the last of the monks and nuns were driven out of the country; but it was not until three years later that the cofradias were interfered with and the saints deprived of their yearly visits to their own houses. Not long after this the Government offered the vacant houses for sale; but I am delighted to say that the scheme was for many years a failure, partly on account of a lingering belief that the Church party might return to power, and partly because no Indian or Ladino could be found sufficiently bold to risk a midnight encounter with an angry saint who might tire of his residence in the church and come back to look after his own property. At last, saints’ houses fell so low in the market that some of the less superstitious were attracted by the bargains offered. Gorgonio was one of the first to take advantage of this state of affairs, and managed to secure a well-built house, but not until he had many earnest consultations with my husband as to his prospects of receiving unsolicited visits from another world.

Amongst other results of the suppression of the cofradias is the gradual decadence of the curious Indian dances, some of which have been named; most of them are merely pantomimic, but the Moros and Christianos—in which the persons represented are CortÉs, Montezuma, the King of Jerusalem, and the King of Spain—is half-dance and half-drama, like the performances of Christmas “mummers” in England, and has partly the same origin, for there seems to be no doubt that the native Indian dances were modified and altered on the lines of mediÆval mystery-plays by the missionary monks of the fifteenth century, much in the same way as the heathen revels of Yuletide had been changed to meet a Christian cult.

Nothing in this garden portion of Coban where the Indians live suggests the bare plaza, half the day bustling with noisy marketing and half the day a dreary waste, which is the chief characteristic of a Central-American town; and it came quite as a surprise to me when, on passing through an arched tower at the end of a straggling street, I suddenly found myself in a great square with all the usual accompaniments of church, cabildo, and cÁrcel—nothing omitted—not, even in this arcadia, the sad-eyed prisoner with hands stretched through the bars begging an alms of the passer-by. Although I was loth thus suddenly to exchange the atmosphere of a quiet country village for the bustle of a market-town, I must own that the scene which met my view ranks high for brilliancy and animation even in this country of colour-loving southrons. The weekly market was at its height and the great space was thronged with gaily-dressed women presiding over baskets of fruits, vegetables, and flowers, and stalls hung with bright-coloured fabrics, and the impression left on my mind is as of a maze of sunlight, colour, movement, and thriving abundance.

At the end of the plaza stands the great church with the Convento attached to it. Although this church was not built until some years later, it was the direct outcome of the missionary efforts of BartolomÉ Las Casas, the “Apostle of the Indies,” whose unframed portrait still hangs on its walls, and of his devoted companions of the brotherhood of St. Dominic, which began in the year 1537. At that time Las Casas was a member of the Dominican convent at Santiago, and had lately published his celebrated pamphlet, ‘De Unico Vocationis modo,’ in which he denounced the warfare carried on against the Indians, dwelt on the horrors and wrongs inflicted on them, and contended that their conversion should be effected by persuasion alone. Such doctrines raised a storm of angry disapproval from the Spaniards, for although the power of the QuichÉs had been broken by the destruction of Utatlan and Uspantan, the position of the settlers was not altogether secure, and one expedition after another had been driven back from Tuzulutlan, which had earned the ill-omened name of “la tierra de guerra,” the land of war. In scornful answer to his appeal the monk was told to try the experiment himself, and Tuzulutlan was jeeringly suggested as a good field for his operations. Las Casas was quick to see his chance, and promptly accepting the challenge which had been flung at him in derision asked only a fair field and no favour for his enterprise. These conditions were granted, and the acting Governor, Alonzo Maldonado, wrote to him promising that if he would convert the Indians of the land of war to the true faith, and induce them to acknowledge the lordship of the Spanish crown and pay a moderate tribute to his majesty, none of the townships or people of that province should be given in “encomienda” to a Spaniard, and that no Spaniard should be allowed to enter the land of the converts or in any way interfere with them for the space of five years.

The method adopted by the Dominican missionaries to overcome the hostility and suspicion of the fierce inhabitants of Tuzulutlan, and to gain touch of their chiefs, was simple and ingenious. Las Casas and his three brethren, Rodrigo de Ladrada, Pedro de Angulo, and Luis Cancer, had all acquired a knowledge of the QuichÉ language, dialects of which were spoken both in Guatemala and Tuzulutlan, and in this language they composed verses embodying the story of the fall of man and his redemption and the other tenets of the Christian faith. They then sought out four Indian traders who were accustomed to make journeys to Sacapulas and Tuzulutlan to sell their goods, and to these men, who had already become Christians, the Padres taught the verses they had composed, so that they might chant them to the accompaniment of native instruments and the tinkling of little Spanish bells. Small articles of European manufacture for presents to the chiefs were added to the traders’ packs, and they set out for Sacapulas, where they were well received by its cacique, who was then by far the most influential man in that part of the country. When the trading was over for the day, and whilst the chief persons of the neighbourhood were still assembled in the house of the cacique, the traders begged the loan of some musical instruments and then tinkling the “cascabeles,” which they had brought with them from Guatemala, they commenced their chant. The novel form of the music and the wonderful story which the verses told had the wished-for effect on the hearers, so that the chant had to be repeated time after time and day after day to increasing crowds of eager listeners. When, however, the cacique enquired more closely into the meaning of the words of the song, the traders told him that they themselves were unable to give him any further explanation, as that could be given by the Padres alone. “And who, then, are these Padres?” asked the cacique, “for I have never seen nor heard of them.” The traders replied that they were men clad in black and white garments, who wore their hair cut in the form of a wreath, who ate no meat, and who desired neither gold nor cloaks, nor feathers nor cacao, who were not married yet lived chaste lives, who sang the praises of God both day and night, and possessed beautiful images, before which they knelt in prayer, and that these men alone could explain the meaning of the verses; but that such good men were they, and so ready to impart their knowledge to all, that should the cacique send for them they would most willingly come to instruct him. The cacique pondered over the words of the traders, and finally agreed that his younger brother, a youth of twenty-two years, should accompany the traders on their return journey to Guatemala. He privately instructed the youth to seize every opportunity to learn if it were really true that the padres possessed neither gold nor silver, and did not beg for it nor hunt for it, as all other Christians did, and whether it were true that they neither had women in their houses nor treated with them elsewhere. It is needless to say that the young Indian chieftain was well received at Guatemala by Las Casas and his companions, and that he returned to his country well pleased, in company with Luis Cancer, who successfully commenced the conversion of the people.

In October 1537 Las Casas himself set out for Sacapulas, and was soon to have proof given him of the influence of the missionary teaching. The cacique, who was known to the Spaniards by the name of Don Juan, had made arrangements for the marriage of his brother, the youth who had accompanied the traders to Guatemala, to the daughter of the Cacique of Coban, and had prepared great festivities wherewith to celebrate the wedding. On such occasions it was an old custom to perform certain ceremonies when visitors from Coban crossed the river which divided the two jurisdictions; but in this instance before the members of the bridal party had arrived at the river banks, the cacique Don Juan sent a messenger to them to say that the festivities, dances, and feasts which he had prepared in their honour would afford ample proof of the great contentment with which he awaited their coming. He, however, begged of them to leave behind the turkeys and other birds and animals which they were bringing with them to sacrifice on the passage of the river, for, time-honoured as was that custom, he was no longer prepared to take his part in it, having learned to look on such customs as naught but vanity and deceit with which the Devil had blinded his eyes, and that the Padres had taught him to pay adoration to the one true and only God. Such a request caused consternation amongst the chiefs from Coban, and their first impulse was to return with the bride to her home and declare war on Don Juan, for they feared that his acceptance of Christian teaching would entail the subjection of his country to the rule of the Spaniards, and that it would be their own turn next to be conquered and despoiled by the hated foreigners. When, however, they learnt that the territory of Don Juan had been left in peace and that no armed Spaniard had entered it, they reconsidered their decision, and both fearing to lose such a powerful alliance and confident that they could secure a good augury for the bride by offering even richer sacrifices to their own gods on their return home, they sent a message to Don Juan granting his request that the customary sacrifices at the passage of the river should be omitted, and adding that in this and all other matters it was their desire to please him.

About this time Las Casas himself arrived at Don Juan’s house and received a warm welcome from the cacique, although there was some grumbling amongst the people at the desertion of their old gods, and the first Christian church was burnt to the ground almost as soon as it was built—rumour said by some of the followers of the chieftains from Coban who were incensed at the omission of the customary sacrifices. However, the battle was now half won, for the Dominicans had gained a hold on Tuzulutlan, and had got into touch with Coban. That same year Las Casas and Pedro de Angulo made a journey through the former province, and, thanks to the friendship and care of Don Juan, were everywhere well received. There were, however, many difficulties to be met and overcome, and the first to make itself felt was an administrative difficulty which arose from the habit of the Indians of living “in small scattered communities of not more than six houses together and these a musket-shot apart.” How was it possible with such a small staff of missionaries to teach the people and keep control of them when not more than three or four households could be got together at a time and these could only be revisited at long intervals? To meet this difficulty Las Casas sought to induce the Indians to dwell together in towns, and the township of Rabinal was founded about a league distant from its present site. This step, no doubt, ensured the more rapid conversion of the natives and secured the more efficient supervision by the priests, but it met with great opposition from the Indians, for, as the chronicler says, “each one hated to leave the hut and the hill, valley, or barranca in which he was born.” And later experience has proved the inexpediency of a measure which increased the danger of contagion in the cases of European disease amongst persons whose constitutions were already upset by a change in the manner of life. However, this was not a result likely to be foreseen at the time, and we may acquit a man who showed such breadth of mind and keen sympathy with suffering as did Las Casas of the error only too prevalent at the time—that of believing that as long as an Indian’s soul was saved by the rite of baptism it did not much matter what happened to his body.

So good an impression had the Padres made in a short time on these hitherto hostile people that by the end of the year Luis Cancer had succeeded in penetrating the Province of Coban without any opposition from its inhabitants; and in the year following—after a journey to Guatemala in company with the cacique Don Juan—Las Casas himself visited Coban, and bears witness in his writings to the good order and arrangement of the native government and excellence of its laws, and states that he found the people more religious by nature and less given to abominable sacrifices than any other people in the whole of the Indies.

I must not follow any further the fortunes of the Dominican Fathers who had changed the name of the much-dreaded land of war into that it now bears of the “Vera Paz,” or True Peace—not that incidents of interest are lacking, such as the martyrdom of Padre Vico at the hands of the Acalaes and Lacandones, which tempt one to wander on.

It is, indeed, a sad fall from the heroic figures of Las Casas and his faithful companions, who, whatever their failings in judgment, feared neither hardship nor death, and for years carried their lives in their hands and toiled unceasingly without hope of earthly reward, to the easy-going half-caste cura of this century as he is depicted in the pages of modern travellers. The celibacy of the clergy must, indeed, have been a more patent fact in those days than it is now, for about the year 1558 it made such an impression on the Indians of the Vera Paz that they formally represented to the authorities that as the padres did not marry, and they could see no little padres running about, they feared the race would die out!

There is a larger proportion of foreigners in Coban than in any other town in the Republic: they are almost exclusively Germans engaged in coffee-planting, and some few of them in cattle-ranching and other industries; although complaints of isolation and of housekeeping and labour troubles are not unheard of amongst them, they seemed to me to be fortunate from a business point of view in the high reputation that the Vera Paz coffee holds in the market, and the very considerable commercial importance which their industry and foresight has brought to the district; and, from a personal point of view, in the enjoyment of a delicious climate in which their rosy-cheeked children can be reared in health and strength, and in all the comforts which pertain to a life half European and half tropical. Hotels or fondas appear to be scarce; but the hospitality of the foreign residents is proverbial; and it was to old friends of my husband’s that we were indebted for a charming week passed in comfort and ease, especially grateful to me, somewhat wearied as I had become with the cares and difficulties of camp housekeeping and the toil of the road. I took my pleasure by sitting all day in the cool gallery which enclosed the patio—so suggestive of southern Spain—watching the clouds chase one another across the blue sky, and listening to the breeze gently swaying the branches of a fine Norfolk Island pine. The air was perfumed with the scent of violets and roses, and the silence only broken by the voices of workers on the far side of the court where the business of the house was carried on, and where the native women, seated before little tables, sorted the coffee-berries for market, and chatted loudly in their harsh-sounding language.

THE CALVARIO.