Guatemala City long ago laid aside its swaddling clothes. While Boston was yet a mere village, the capital of Guatemala was the abode of one hundred thousand people, and was surpassed in importance only by Lima, Peru, and the City of Mexico. It was the home of some of the most learned men in Spanish-America, the site of great schools of theology and science, the seat of the Inquisition and the headquarters of the Jesuits. The present Guatemala City, however, is the third one to bear that name, the first two having been destroyed by volcanic disturbances. It is now the commercial, political and social centre of the republic, and in it is concentrated the wealth, culture and refinement of the whole country. Because of its superiority over other Central American municipalities Guatemala City has been called the “Little Paris,” a designation very pleasing to the inhabitants of the metropolis of Central America. Its similarity to Paris is about as great as that of St. Augustine to New York.

The present city was founded in 1776, just about the time that the American patriots were breaking the shackles which bound them to the mother country. The former capital, now known as Antigua, was located about thirty miles distant, near the base of the volcanoes Agua (water) and Fuego (fire), the latter so called because formerly it constantly emitted smoke and flames. Suddenly, one evening, earthquake rumblings were heard, intense darkness spread over the valley, and without warning a great deluge of water overwhelmed the city, demolishing the houses and destroying eight thousand of the inhabitants. It was considered a judgment of heaven because of certain impious remarks that had been made. The natural explanation is that the crater of the volcano, then called Hunapu, had become filled with water, the earthquake rent the crater, and the water rushing down in torrents acquired terrific force in its descent of several thousand feet. After the first destruction in this unusual and terrible way, in 1541, the city had been rebuilt in grander style than before and the inhabitants rested in fancied security within the shadow of the lofty volcanic peaks which abound here, and which fill the visitor with a strange awe. These volcanoes had been baptized and received into the church and were supposed to be on their good behaviour. The baptism of the volcanoes did not seem to have a permanent effect upon their disposition, for another eruption accompanied by a severe earthquake destroyed the second capital in 1773.

The city of ruins as it exists to-day is a most interesting place to visit, and several thousand people still make it their home. Nearly every ruin houses a family who manage in some way to secure shelter within the broken walls and make a living by carving cane heads or making the doll images and effigies which are used in religious celebrations. The images are about five or six inches high, representing the nativity of Christ and are used at Christmas. It was built on much the same general plan as the present capital, with narrow streets laid out at right angles to each other. It was well provided with religious edifices, for there are the ruins of almost sixty churches that can be traced. They were all of solid masonry, many feet in thickness with vaulted roofs, and must have cost immense sums of money in material and transportation, for much of the material was imported from Spain. Now these vaulted arches support masses of vegetation, and the bells which formerly called Spaniard and Indian to service are silent. The grand old cathedral still stands a sad reminder of its former magnificence. Within its shattered walls the service of the church used to be performed in all its solemnity, and the burning incense filled every nook of the vast edifice with its fragrance. Indians with baskets of fowls on their back, and Spaniards whose very shoulders drooped with the burden of elongated names and lofty titles, knelt by a common genuflection before these magnificent altars.

A number of the old buildings yet bear the arms of Castile and Leon—two castles and two lions rampant. Some of the images of the saints still stand in their niches on the faÇades of the churches, which causes them to be looked upon with special veneration by the ignorant natives, because only a direct interposition of Providence could have kept them unharmed during the frightful undulations of the earthquake. The once imposing square is now dotted here and there with the huts and booths of the market people, and the present town is a sad reminder of a once proud and powerful city. After seeing the ruins you know that the rickety old coach with its tires half off, which brought you there, and the harness held on the horses (or mules) by thongs, is just in harmony with the place itself.

The present capital has been comparatively free from these volcanic disturbances, although several volcanic peaks are plainly visible in this translucent atmosphere, which equals or surpasses that of Colorado for clearness. It is situated in a long, narrow valley with a slight slope to the east. The hills surrounding the valley are indescribably soft and beautiful with deep shadowed ravines which contrast with the green vegetation in the rainy season. The grandeur of the scene is centred in three towering volcanoes that rise sharp and distinct against the blue sky—the symmetrical outline of Agua, the serrated ridge of Fuego and the isolated cone of Pacaya.

From the church of El Carmen, situated on an eminence in the northeastern part of the city, a fine view is obtained of the city and valley. This church is made picturesque by the outcroppings of quartz and the oriental appearance of the building. It is more like a small fortress, with its little round tower, and the gray stone moss-grown wall surrounding the hill, than a religious edifice. It is older than the city, and in the bell tower is a bell dated 1748, more than a quarter of a century before the founding of the capital at this location. The interior is dark and gloomy and its walls are hung with examples of crude art. Behind the church the plain stretches away to the purple hills. In front and nestling at the foot of the hill is the capital. The city is compactly built, about two miles square, with peaked and flat roofs covered with brown tiles, and walls variously coloured, but rather dirty. The only contrast to the rather dull colour is the vivid green foliage in the open courts of the houses. Because the houses are nearly all one-storied, the twenty or more churches appear unusually lofty and imposing. In particular, the grand old Cathedral in the centre of the city overtowers every other structure in its majesty. In another direction, on the opposite side of the city, the walls and towers of the Castillo de San Jose stand out against the background of hills and give a semblance of military strength to the otherwise peaceful appearance of the valley.

Guatemala City is nearly five thousand feet above the level of the rolling seas and enjoys a wholesome and salubrious climate. Of this too much cannot be said, for it is truly delightful. With an average temperature of seventy-two degrees it has no extremes of heat and cold, and the thermometer seldom varies more than twenty to twenty-five degrees during the entire year. In the so-called winter season the mercury rarely goes below sixty-five degrees and the summer heat does not usually exceed eighty-five degrees. Foreigners who live there and travellers who visit there fall in love with the climate, and, when once acclimated, do not want to leave. Seventy-five thousand or more people, Spaniards, Indians and Ladinos, with a sprinkling of Germans and Americans, are trying to solve the problem of life and existence under such favourable skies; and it is no wonder that the strenuous life of our American cities has few disciples in this favoured valley. Life runs along a smooth, easy pathway, with nothing to rush you, and it is equally as impossible to hurry any one else. A newly arrived American may start out with an impulsive eagerness to do something, but, after a few futile attempts to hasten results, will soon yield to the inevitable trend of delay in this land of “to-morrow” and “wait-a-while.”

The city is distant from the Pacific Ocean, nearly seventy-five miles and from the Gulf of Mexico twice that distance. There were probably two reasons which influenced the Spaniards to locate their capitals inland; one of these was for safety and the other because, in these tropical lands, the climate along the coast is hot, rainy, and fever-stricken. It was certainly not for the convenience of commerce, for all imports and exports had to be transported over narrow and rough trails on the backs of men and mules, for a long period, before a roadway was completed to the Pacific port of San Jose. Governors and Archbishops, common Spaniards and humble natives, were obliged to ride over those trails on the backs of horses or mules, and generally that of the latter obliging, but contrary, “critters.”

The city is a typical Spanish-American town in architecture, although recent improvements have taken away the monastic appearance that used to prevail. The streets are straight and narrow and laid out at right angles to each other. The ones running north and south are called avenidas (avenues), and those east and west, calles (streets). The sidewalks are paved with smooth flagstones and are almost on a level with the roughly-paved roadway which slopes toward the centre for drainage. The streets are bordered on both sides by low, one-storied buildings whose tile roofs once red are now a dirty brown, and whose plastered walls once white are now soiled and blotched by the pieces of plaster which have been broken out. The walls are usually of adobe (sun-dried) brick, or stone, covered with stucco, and are several feet thick in order to defy any but the most severe earthquake shocks. The windows are broad and high, and are protected by iron bars like the windows of a prison cell. If the house is so fortunate as to have a second story, then a neat little iron or wooden balcony is erected in front of them. There is one entrance to the house and that is guarded by great, heavy doors studded with big nails, and fastened with a massive lock fit only for a mediaeval castle. The keys to these locks are frequently eight or ten inches long and would fit no keyring that is on the market to-day. Carriages, market people, and high-born ladies, all use this common entrance which leads into the patio around which the house is invariably built. These patios take the place of the lawn in northern homes and are frequently beautiful little miniature gardens filled with tropical plants and fragrant with the blossoms of many flowers. The living rooms all open out upon this court, and here, sheltered from the wind, the people can bask in the sun when it is cool and occupy the shady side when it is hot, and thus keep themselves fairly comfortable without the aid of fires or electric fans.

The Plaza de Armas, which is in the center of the city, is quite a pretty square and is surrounded on three sides by public buildings, while on the other side are retail stores with the portales so common in these countries. On the north side is the municipal building, on the west side the National Palace and government barracks, and on the east side lies the Cathedral and Bishop’s Palace. In the centre is a delightful little garden surrounded by an iron fence, within which are many exquisite flowers and pretty plants with wine coloured leaves. A few evergreens, fountains, a statue of Cristobal Colon, the ever present band-stand, and an old square stone tower, or temple, with an equestrian statue of Charles IV of Spain complete the adornments of this square. Across one side rattle the little toy street-cars, and now and then a hooded victoria slips through, the top drawn like a vizor over the inside, so that all you can see is the tip of a chin or a bit of white parasol. It is not pleasant for the ladies to appear on the street unless they are very plain.

In front of the National Palace a company of the President’s Guard of Honour parades each morning. This organization comprises about five hundred picked men from the army who actually wear shoes and a jaunty cap, and their uniforms look as bright as a working-man’s new suit of blue jeans, and they are of the same material. A good military band plays, and, aided by the music, the company manages to keep step occasionally, but only occasionally, for that little matter does not seem to them very important. Sedate Spaniards, descendants of the proud hidalgos, and Indians whose progenitors built the great palaces, or temples, at Palenque, Copan and Quirigua, mingle here, and types of several centuries may be seen side by side. Customs of the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries are here intermingled, but the twentieth century can hardly be said to have reached this city. The Indian with his pack on his back passes by followed by a mule dray, but the gasoline devil-wagon has not yet made its appearance in this city, and the warning horn of the street-cars takes the place of the honk-honk of the automobile.

At night when the band concerts are given the plaza is a good place to study the people, for all classes turn out in great numbers and parade around the central portion. The cock-of-the-walk on such occasions is the student of the military academy who struts around much-bedecked in a red uniform covered with gold braid, and with his sword invariably trailing on the ground—much resembling the peacock on dress parade with his tail feathers fluttering in the breeze. The young dandies are there with their bamboo sticks, tailor-made clothes and smoking their abominable cigarettes. A few foreign drummers or concessionaires stalk around the plaza side by side with the substratum of ladinos in their shabby attire. A few families may stroll around with their little girls in stiff little white gloves and their shy, velvety eyes turning this way and that without a sign of recognition.

The most imposing of all the churches of the city, the Cathedral, and the same may be said of all Spanish churches, is elaborately ornamented with carving, giving it a rococo, or overdone, effect, but the proportions are good. It is flanked by two square towers. The entrance is approached by many steps and is guarded by four colossal saints supposed to represent the four evangelists. They are not very saintly in appearance, being carved out of a very rough coarse stone and very much weather-beaten. There are also several pillars with urns on top, thus adding a Roman effect. The interior gives a general impression of roominess with its fine aisles, but the blue and white effect of the ceiling is not very pleasing, although different from anything I had ever seen in church decoration. The floor is paved with stone. There is a large main altar and a number of gilt side altars with the usual collection of decorated wooden saints. A number of images clad in gauze and gaily-hued angels with tiaras are placed within the various altars, while the Virgin wears a fine velvet gown embroidered with gold thread. The structure is about two hundred and seventy-five feet long. Adjoining this is the Episcopal Palace, which has on many occasions been the centre of political intrigue and sedition before the late President Rufino Barrios curbed the power of the clergy.

All Guatemala is proud of its Teatro Colon, the National Theatre, for the government in these Spanish-American countries considers it a part of its duties to furnish amusement for its subjects. The building is modeled after the famous church of the Madelaine in Paris. It stands in the middle of a large enclosure surrounded by a high iron fence. The grounds are laid out as a garden with oleander and orange trees and flowers of many kinds planted in generous profusion along the walks, and there are several fountains which send out their cooling spray. The coat of arms of the republic stand out prominently on the faÇade and there are numerous other plaster ornaments in relief against the stucco walls, which are laid out in blocks to imitate stone. The interior is in good taste and the stage is large and roomy. The government allows a generous yearly subsidy which enables good talent to be brought from Italy, Spain and Mexico. There are two tiers of boxes which run clear around the hall and several proscenium boxes, of which one is reserved for the President. Silk hats are worn by the men and canes are carried, while the women wear a few feathers in their hair, but no hats, and much powder and paste on their faces. During the long intermission nearly everybody leaves his seat and wanders out into the vestibule to visit and smoke—even some of the ladies indulging occasionally in this pastime.

The people are inordinately fond of amusements as are all people of Latin blood. In this enumeration the bull-fight should not be omitted. In the large bull-ring which stands just outside the central railway station all classes meet on Sunday afternoon, and the “carramba” of the Spaniard mingles with the stronger expressions of his fairer-skinned Anglo-Saxon or Teutonic neighbour. The Spaniard believes that the bull-fight is an exemplification of the superior prowess of his race, for the Spaniard is as much superior to all other men as the Spanish bull is more valiant than all other bulls. The bull-fight in Guatemala City is usually a poor imitation of the sanguinary conflicts of the Iberian peninsula. The victims are generally oxen, with perhaps one or two bulls doomed to the death. The town was all excitement during my visit, for Mazzantini, the great Spanish matador, was coming to give three “corridas” with imported bulls. The boat that I came on carried ten of these bulls in boxes, and the old custodian with his bulls caused more trouble than all the rest of the cargo, including the passengers, put together. Excursions were advertised by the railroad and it was the principal topic of conversation. Everyone that I met, American and native, urged me to stay for the first great event to take place the following Sunday. I had seen the bull-fight, however, in all its horrible details in its native land, and it did not appeal to me even with the great “Mazzantini” taking part.

I attended one bull-fight while there in order to get some photographs, and was thoroughly disgusted. Two bulls of the six advertised for the occasion were doomed to the death and there were two matadores. One of them was a young Spaniard whom I had met on the steamer. He wore the lock of long hair on the side of his head which is affected by all bull fighters, and claimed to be a good fighter. He was agile and leaped over the bull with a vaulting pole and planted the banderillos quite adeptly. As a matador he was a failure, and after he had made three ineffectual attempts to kill the bull, and had buried three swords in the poor creature’s neck, the crowd became hostile and he was obliged to leave the arena, followed by the anathemas and hisses of the large audience. Then my bull-fighting acquaintance, who had given me such a cordial invitation in the morning to attend the performance, retired in great discomfiture, and I have never seen him since.

There is a prosperous American club in the city to which many other foreigners belong, and I was fortunate enough to be given a visitor’s card. The social life of the expatriated American centres around this organization and it has considerable influence in the city and country. It was very interesting to talk with the older members of the stirring events in the time of President J. Rufino Barrios and his dramatic method of proclaiming the confederation of all the Central American republics. There are several hundred Americans in the country engaged in various enterprises, from promotion to construction, and from plantations to manufacturing. The Germans occupy the leading place in the commerce as they seem to amalgamate more readily with the country, for they come to make permanent homes, while most of the Americans expect to make their fortune and then leave for Uncle Sam’s domains once more. A number of Chinese merchants are also engaged in business here and a few French. Jews are also numerous and a Jewish synagogue is the only non-Catholic religious edifice I saw, although there is a Presbyterian Mission maintained in the city.

Nearly every business house runs a money exchange department and the sign “Cambia de Moneda” (money exchange) vies in number with the “cantinas.” Even the bootblack in the hotel wanted to exchange money and followed the quotations each day as carefully as any banker. During my stay it varied from twelve and one-half to thirteen and one-fourth paper dollars for one in gold with the American eagle on it. Every merchant was anxious to secure New York, London, or Hamburg exchange. Prices of commodities varied from day to day, for, although posted in paper values, they were regulated on a gold basis. Business begins about eight in the morning and ceases about seven in the evening, but all business houses put up their shutters and close up tight for two or three hours in the middle of the day during the siesta hours. You will never know, however, unless you study the calendar, whether the stores will be open or not, for holidays and feast-days are many. There is an old saying that Spanish holidays numbered three hundred and sixty-five, not including Sundays.

The principal market is a large structure in the rear of the Cathedral, and has large gates at each corner through which a line of people are passing at all times during the business hours. The entrance is nearly always obstructed by women with fruit for sale, whose presence was tolerable from the fact that they sold it extremely cheap. Every available space is filled with native merchants—mostly women—who offer for sale home and foreign goods and a great variety of indigenous fruits. Vendors outside of the enclosure suspend straw mats on poles for shelter from the torrid sun. Beneath each one sat a woman or girl with her articles for sale spread about and before her—a little fruit, some vegetables, or even some cooked meat. Inside the building one can get a three course meal of native concoctions for a few cents, or can buy the luscious fruits of the country, including oranges, bananas, zapotes, or pineapples, for a song almost. Although the place is generally crowded there is no jostling or confusion. It would be hard to find a quarrelsome or disorderly person or any one who would raise his voice above the tone of polite conversation, and even the babies—of whom there are always many—refrain from crying. The dealers are all bargainers and will invariably ask at least twice as much as they would readily accept. A look of surprise or astonishment at a price given will invariably bring the query, “What will you give?” There is no such thing as a fixed price, and yet the lowest price that will be accepted does not vary much among the different merchants, as I found on several occasions.

There is a second native market in the western part of the city. Near this market is a road which is the great highway for the market people coming from lowland and highland. It was a sight that never grew tame or monotonous to me to watch the never-ending procession of men, women, children, burros, and mules continually coming to the city, and, on several mornings, I went out to watch it. Men and women come marching down the middle of the road in Indian file—the men with great loads on their backs, and the women with large market baskets on their heads, filled with fruits, vegetables, pottery, eggs or poultry. Oftentimes they travel for three or four days to market with nothing but the cold stones or mother earth at night for a bed. The whole load, when marketed, may not bring more than a couple of dollars in gold, but they would consider that pretty good pay for a week’s work. In this way the fruits of the hot lands are brought to the city by those simple folks in just the same manner as their ancestors have done ever since the founding of the city. Sometimes an Indian bearing fodder or other provender is scarcely visible underneath his load. It is rather comical to see an enormous box about the size of a small house trotting down the street on what seems to be its own pair of brown legs. Little boys and little girls, as soon as large enough, assume their share of the burdens and carry their little bundles in the same way as their elders. One writer describes a market woman whom he saw as follows: “She carried an open-work basket of fowls and ducks on her back on which was also slung a baby; in her arms she carried a fine young pig, and on her head was a tray of tortillas. As she jogged along the baby cried, the porker squealed and the poultry made noise enough to drown her own groans.”

Numerous public buildings are scattered over the city. Perhaps the most noted is the University of Guatemala, which has a great reputation all over Central America. As a matter of fact Guatemala City was noted for its learning before any educational institution had been established in the United States; and dust had accumulated on its library before the first little red school house had made its appearance. This university has many professors, contains a large and valuable collection of books, pamphlets and manuscripts, and its museum has a numerous and exhaustive collection of woods, birds, pottery, gods, and ornaments of the former races, and stuffed specimens of birds, including a number of the rare quetzal. There are also Schools of Medicine and Pharmacy, Arts and Trades, a Polytechnic Institute, hospitals, court house, and many other institutions of government and justice. The post office is situated in an old convent confiscated from the church, and the same is true of a number of the other government buildings now in use.

There are no great parks, but a number of little breathing-places are scattered over the city that lend their attraction. The Plaza Concordia is the prettiest of all and occupies an entire square surrounded by a massive brick fence. Palms, bananas, cacti, flowers, shrubs and large trees each lend an individual attraction. Broad paths wind here and there through the park, and on these the people promenade while the military bands, of which there are several, play popular and classical airs. Especially is this an interesting place to visit on Sunday afternoons when the aristocracy congregate to listen to the bands.

The most ambitious attempt at ornamentation is found in the Reforma, a wide boulevard in imitation of the Paseo de la Reforma in the City of Mexico. It is ornamented with trees, numerous stone seats and statues, and a number of fine modern homes face it, thus making it the most modern vista in the city. The principal statue is a rather creditable one of President J. Rufino Barrios, who deserves such a memorial more than any other of her former rulers. There is also a statue of a bull which seems rather incongruous but probably deserves a place in this land of bull-fights. The Reforma leads out to the hippodrome, or race track, and the Temple of Minerva, which is dedicated to popular education and where a public celebration is held each year to stimulate interest in that valuable accomplishment.

Guardia Viejo, a suburb distant a few miles, is a favourite resort of the populace on fiesta occasions. Thousands of people at such times throng the park and the streets in the village and the typical holiday spirit of good nature and freedom prevails. I had the good fortune to be present during one of these celebrations and it was an interesting experience.

Water is brought to the city by two aqueducts running across the valley for many miles, and the supply is abundant and the quality good. There are a score of public fountains with public laundry facilities connected. Circular brick buildings are erected over small sinks which anyone is permitted to use. First come, first served, is the motto which is observed, and they are generally in demand. The clothes are laid out on the grass to dry. According to custom here, it takes a week to get a washing after giving it out, and even a Chinaman will not do much better than that.

There is a good hotel in the city in which it was a real pleasure to rest after experiencing some of the crudeness in accommodation elsewhere. It is built around a court yard which is ornamented with orange and oleander trees, ferns, vines and many flowers. Inclosed glass corridors make a pleasant promenade and dining place. At the Gran Hotel I encountered a number of members of that strange legion who are always in active service and on the firing line—those men who go through the jungle ahead of the railroad and over the mountains before the engineers. To sell a bit of cotton cloth or a phonograph they are ready to speak as many languages as a German diplomat. They cross deserts and run the risk of pestilence, and have more adventures than an amateur explorer would write volumes about. These men are the salesmen who introduce the manufactured goods of commercial countries into the uncivilized and uncommercial lands of the globe. Some of them deserve medals and even pensions, but they are lucky if they get their names in the papers when they pass away in some far-off land. Many of them are very interesting characters and as full of interesting anecdotes of personal adventures as the tropical jungle is of vegetation.

The tram lines extend all over the city but the little “dinky” cars are almost a joke. The only compensation is the cheap fares which are just about one cent in real money, but a shilling in the paper substitute. The city is unusually well lighted with electric lights, and a creditable telephone service has been installed.

The military element was in evidence everywhere, as, at the time of my visit, there was an unusual number of soldiers in the city, and parades were of daily occurrence. The soldiers were not awe-inspiring nor did they seem to take their duties very seriously. The fort of San Juan is a rather imposing fortress built in regulation style with moat and drawbridge, and its adobe walls painted to resemble great stone blocks. I noticed that the guns all seemed to point toward the city itself. Prisoners working under guard were to be seen in many places with more soldiers on guard than prisoners working. At one place, I saw nine soldiers lounging about and guarding four prisoners who were at work. At another time there were a half dozen soldiers forming a hollow square, in the centre of which was one poor prisoner who looked anything but a desperate criminal. In the country, I have seen them marched along across country with their arms tied with a rope which was held by a soldier who rode on a horse. The days of maudlin sympathy with law breakers has not yet reached Guatemala.

Guatemala City is a perfect place to play with life, cloistered away from the active world, and yet so near to its bustling stir. The real world and its manners are here, but there are none of its problems. All things are reduced to so small a scale that the individual need not worry. People who have money have inherited it or made it easy; those who have it not, never expect it. There is no hustling, ambitious middle class to stir up rivalry and discontent. The people drift along placidly and, content with what they have, covet not the riches or luxury of another. The visitor can enjoy life and live quietly, feeling that he can always go back to the real world whenever he wants to, and that a few days’ journey will transport him back to the busy life of our great metropolis.