Chapter VI: Part 6

It would be as idle to trace, as it would be difficult to disentangle, the perplexities of a quarrel which continued for centuries. But the consummation was now at hand. The Pope (Leo IX.), and the Patriarch, Cerularius, had excommunicated each other. A conference of pretended conciliation was held in Constantinople with the papal legates. It ended in new claims, met by new resistance: the legates, at last, went solemnly to the church of Santa Sophia, publicly read the letters of excommunication, placed the document of anathema on the high altar, and then departed from Constantinople! Thus in 1054 was completed the Schism, which had been commenced in arrogant ambition, and continued in priestly rancour; which had scandalised Christendom, and libelled Christianity; and which, in Asia, was punished by the conquests and conversions of Mahommedanism, and in Europe by the increased power, the darker superstition, and the sterner severities of Rome.

From this period we may state the doctrines and practices of the Greek Church, as an independent community.

The doctrine of the Holy Trinity is established. But the Holy Spirit is assumed to _proceed_ from the Father only; in this point differing from the Popish and the Protestant Churches. This difference was the subject of long controversy between the East and the West, but, with the usual fate of ancient disputation, leaving both parties more confident in their own opinions.

On the doctrine of Redemption, its language is that of Scripture; Christ is acknowledged to be the Regenerator of our fallen nature. Justification by Faith includes the works which prove the sincerity of the faith, without which “faith is dead.”

Regeneration is regarded as _essential_, but this Church admits of no _Indulgences_; on this point differing totally from the practices of Rome.

The Church acknowledges no _purgatory_. But it holds an “intermediate state of the departed;” the spirits of the wicked remaining in a place of sorrow and comparative suffering, and those of the virtuous in a place of rest and comparative happiness; and both thus remaining until the Resurrection. But it admits “prayer for the dead;” not for the redemption of the spirit from a place of _purification_ or partial penalty, but from a consideration of the Divine mercy. In those doctrines it makes some approach to Protestantism, though in praying for the dead it obviously goes beyond the only authority to which we can look for the condition of man after death—namely, Scripture.

In its ritual, the Church more nearly approaches Rome. It acknowledges as Sacraments, Marriage, Confirmation, Extreme Unction, Ordination, and Penance, in addition to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

Baptism is administered by trine immersion.

Infants are baptised on the eighth day.

Chrism, or anointing with holy oil, which is regarded as confirmation, is administered soon after baptism.

The Lord’s Supper is administered under both forms, the bread and the wine, to both priest and laity. But the Church holds transubstantiation, or, in the words of the Confession, “when the priest consecrates the elements, the very substance of the bread and wine is transformed into the substance of the true body and blood of Christ.”

The ceremonial of the consecration is worth remarking, as it seems to have been taken in some degree as the model for the modern innovations in the English Ritual. The elements are first carried round the church _on the head of the deacon_; then the priest prays that the Almighty may convert them into the substance of the body and blood. He then prays to the Holy Spirit for His gift. He then prays to Jesus Christ, as sitting on the right hand of the Father, and yet invisibly present, to impart to the receivers “His immaculate body and precious blood.” Still, there are some distinctions in the Eastern and Western practice. The _same_ degree of worship is not offered to the Host as in the Romish Church. It is not carried in procession, nor is it offered to public adoration, nor is there any festival in its honour. It is carried to the sick, but the priests do not prostrate themselves before it. All this ceremonial the Eastern Church pretends to justify on the ground of antiquity, where it was not to be found in the purest and most primitive centuries. The Protestant looks to the original solemnisation, and takes his practice from Scripture. What common sense can believe that Jesus of Nazareth gave His actual body to be eaten before His eyes, or that the Apostles, while at supper, believed that they were eating flesh and drinking blood, and this without a sign of repulsion and reluctance, or without even a remonstrance or an inquiry? The words, “This do in _remembrance_ of me,” are a sufficient declaration that neither His flesh nor His blood was to remain on _earth_; for remembrance implied departure. And that the _remembrance_ was the express purpose, is distinctly declared in the words, “As oft as ye eat this _bread_ and drink this _cup_, ye do show the Lord’s death _till He come_;”—thus extinguishing at once transubstantiation, and the more diluted doctrine of the “Real presence.” St Paul (A.D. 59) describes the Sacrament as still the _bread_ and the _cup_ (1st Corinthians, xi. 26), the popular dishonour of which would involve dishonour to the body and blood of which they were the _representatives_. And he further states, that when the “Real presence” shall have come, the representation shall pass away; as in the instance of the Jewish sacrifices, which represented the offering of Christ, but when the _real offering_ was come, the representation naturally passed away, the Temple was overthrown, and sacrifice was no more. And this was the language of the great Apostle of the Gentiles upwards of a quarter of a century _after_ the Crucifixion. If St Paul believed in Transubstantiation, it is impossible to doubt that he would have scrupulously avoided any mention of the “bread and the cup,” particularly on an occasion when he was warning the dissolute and disputatious Corinthians of the danger of _disrespect_ to the Sacrament.

The Greek Church holds the doctrine of Penance, Absolution by the priest, and Auricular Confession, as a consequence of the doctrine of Absolution, “the priest not knowing _what_ to absolve until he knows the state of the penitent.” Absolution and Confession are held to be of the highest importance, and of the most general application. They have been termed “the axle on which the globe of ecclesiastical polity turns;” and beyond question they have been the most extensive sources of power and revenue to both the Greek faith and the Roman.

CEREMONIAL.

The Ritual of the Eastern Church is even more laborious than that of the Roman, both churches in this point straying from the simplicity of Scripture. The elaborate ritual of the Jewish dispensation was for a Divine purpose—the separation of the people from Heathenism; but when that purpose ceased with the cessation of the national privileges and the coming of Christianity, ceremonial perished, as being unnecessary to a religion whose laws were to be “written in the heart,” and as inconsistent with the nature of a religion which was yet to be _universal_. Christ came to redeem mankind, not only from the yoke of sin, but the yoke of ceremonial. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden,” was the language, not merely of help to human nature, but of relief from the weight of ordinances. Christianity has _no ceremonial_, and but two rites, Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. It has _forms_, for forms are essential to _order_, but it prescribes no _system_ of worship, no locality, and no _labour_ of devotion.

The Greek Church abounds in Fastings, and those of the severest order. Besides the Lent of the Western Church, it has three seasons of public abstinence within the year—one from St Whitsuntide to St Peter’s Day, one from the 6th to the 15th of August, and one during the _forty days_ before Christmas. In the monasteries, to this number is superadded one for the first fourteen days of September, in honour of the “Exaltation of the Holy Cross;” and those unnatural and unnecessary abstinences are practised, in general, with extreme severity, even to the rejection of all fish. On the other hand, the festivals of their saints are literally _feasts_; thus producing, in the one instance, hazard to health, and in the other, hazard to morals. These feasts, however, and their attendant levities, have the presumed character of religion; and the saint of the day is especially invoked as an intercessor, equally in contradiction to common sense and the Gospel,—the first telling us the folly of appealing to beings of whom we cannot possibly know whether they can hear or answer prayer, and the second, declaring that there is but one intercessor between God and man, Jesus Christ.

Image-worship is held in abhorrence by the Eastern Church, yet it pays the same species of adoration to pictures; on the idea, that while images represent the inventions of man, pictures represent some real existence; or that, in the words of St Paul, “An idol is nothing in the world” (1st Corinthians, viii. 4), while a picture is the _adumbration_ of some true transaction,—as the existence of Christ, the Virgin Mary, the saints, &c. But, for the purpose of preserving their devotion as pure as possible, they make those pictures generally the most unattractive possible. With the higher orders the picture may serve only as a stimulant to devotion, but, with the peasantry, the adoration is probably complete.

The Greek priests of the higher order generally exhibit a reluctance to acknowledge the reality of this worship, this “pinakolatria,” if we must coin a word for it. They acknowledge the popular homage, but excuse it on the ground of respect for memorable names; as in common life we preserve the pictures of memorable persons, and value those of our departed friends. But the Eastern homage goes wholly beyond this grateful observance. _We_ do not make genuflections to the pictures of our great men, nor pray to those of our friends, nor send those pictures to assist women in the sufferings of childbirth, nor place them on the beds of the dying, nor believe them to work miracles.

In fact, this worship of resemblances, whether pictures or images, is one of the most general, and yet most _improbable_, delusions in the world. To imagine that the statue which we carve, or the picture which we paint, the actual work of our hands, is gifted with powers above the man who has made it; or can have a holiness which he has not, or faculties of which he is unconscious, or a _spirit_ which he can approach only with homage,—is an absurdity which tasks the utmost credulity of man. Or if he be willing to try the effect of this contempt, he may fling the statue from its pedestal, or take down the picture from its shrine, with the most perfect impunity. And yet, what millions have worshipped the statue and the picture, and worship them still!

In the first ages of Christianity, worship was exclusively given to the God of the Gospel; the objects of heathen adoration were an abhorrence, and the ceremonial of the temples a theme of perpetual scorn. At length, however, the influence of heathenism returned; Christian corruption adopted its emblems, and the images of Christ and the Virgin were surrounded by the sicklier devotees or more fanatical formalists of the Church. Then came miracles. The perils of the Greek Empire required supernatural protectors; and the Greek, unused to arms, and trembling at Saracen invasion, gladly committed the hazardous trust of defending his battlements to the saint in his hands. The city of Edessa was thus _saved_! by the sight of a napkin, marked with the face of Jesus. These cheap defences finally failed, and Mahomet was lord of the Empire; but the passion for the picture still lived among the serfs of the Caliph; and while Europe, looking on the remote danger with secure contempt, multiplied her idols, Greece, under her Arab scourge, cherished her pictures as the source of her consolation.

The chief treasure of her mythology, the Veron Eikon, or true resemblance, was a picture of our Lord, supposed to bear His impression from having wiped His face on Calvary. This He gave to a woman, who gave it to the Emperor Tiberius, whom it cured of the gout! But as the napkin was triple-folded, it carried _three_ impressions, which were impartially divided among the faithful; one being sent to Constantinople, another to Paris, and the third being already in the hands of that rather hazardous guardian of relics, Tiberius. The Veron Eikon has seen a great deal of service since, and its last exploit was its attempt to rout the French column advancing to Rome in 1796, an attempt in which it unhappily failed. Such is the history of the most authentic, renowned, and sacred relic of the Greek and Popish world. The historian[13] gives the hymn of Byzantium to the Veronica (for they changed it into a female, and the female into a saint) in the sixth century. “How can we with mortal eyes contemplate this image, whose celestial splendour the host of heaven presumes not to behold? He who dwells in heaven condescends this day to visit us by His venerable image. He who is seated on the Cherubim visits us this day by a picture; which the FATHER has delineated with His immaculate hand, which He has formed in an ineffable manner, and which _we_ sanctify by adoring it with faith and love.” Such is idolatry everywhere at this hour!

The “_sign_ of the Cross” is universal, and almost perpetual. The Cross itself is frequently addressed in prayer, and in language applicable only to the Divine Being. A quotation from Stourdza, a man of intelligence and learning, in his defence of the Greek Church, will show to what an extent this mysticism can be carried.

“The Cross is the representative of the structure of man. It seems to have been formed expressly for man, and its punishment explicitly to serve as the emblem of his misery and his grandeur. Standing erect, looking down on all surrounding things, the arms extended as if to embrace the immense space of which it appears the King; the feet fixed in this valley of tears, the brow crowned with thorns, signs of the cares which surround man even to the tomb. Behold the Man! _Ecce homo_—behold the adorable attitude of the God-man upon the earth. The more we contemplate, the more we must feel that it is only by the punishment of the Cross that Jesus Christ could express in Himself all the woes and all the transgressions of man, expiate them, ransom them, and exhibit collectively the human race under one form alone.”

The use of tapers and torches in daylight services is defended, not on the Popish principle of emblematising the Holy Spirit, but on the more plausible ground of imitating the primitive ages, when the Christians met only before daylight and in caverns. Both are equally presumptuous, as unauthorised by Scripture; and both equally profane, as palpably adopted from heathenism.

The services of the Greek Church are wearisomely long; they are in _Hellenic_, and therefore almost wholly unintelligible to the people, and they are intolerably laborious to the priest; the whole body of the services occupying twenty folio volumes, with an additional volume of directions!—a study to which the time of the priest is almost wholly confined, not for its knowledge, but for its manipulation; the selection of the services appropriate to the day, which change every day, and even in the course of the day. The Liturgy, so called, is limited to a small portion of those labours, namely, the Communion.

Ambition in a priesthood and ignorance in a people always produce superstition; the priest eager to extend his authority, and the people unable to detect the imposture. The natural results are, the Legend and the pretended Miracle. These practices in the Greek Church take a colouring from the picturesque region and the romantic fancy of the people. Every island, and perhaps every hill and valley, has its sacred spot, to which the population approach in long processions on any remarkable public circumstance, whether of Nature or the Calendar. To appease an epidemic, to still an earthquake, to make the skies propitious after a drought, or to call down the peculiar aid of the Virgin, who usurps, in the Greek mind, the whole power of _intercession_, and thus effectively possesses the sceptre of Omnipotence, summons the multitude in all their pageantry.

The services of the Church being performed in a tongue comparatively obsolete, and being recited by the priest habitually in a tone of mystery, which renders them scarcely audible, if they were understood, leave the people in almost total ignorance of their meaning, and of course indifferent to all but the forms of devotion. Like the priest of Rome, the Greek priest is the presumed _mediator_, not the leader of the popular devotion; his prayers are _for_, not _with_, the people. Thus his performance of the service is supposed to answer its purpose, whether audible or whispered. One portion of his duty, however, addresses itself to the general ear,—the reading of the “Lives of the Saints,” entitled “The Tablet of the United Worthies,” a record of 365 lives; all equal to gorge the most ravenous credulity. Greece, once the land of invention, is now the land of imposture; the original talent of the soil is now exhausted on dreary fiction. Still believing in magic, charms, the influence of dreams, and the inspiration of the “genius loci,” they are prepared to welcome every folly of fanaticism, and submit to every artifice of superstition.

GOVERNMENT.

The four Patriarchs, of Constantinople, Jerusalem, Antioch, and Alexandria, are the religious rulers of the Greek Church; the three latter being, in a certain degree, subordinate to the Patriarch of Constantinople, without whose consent nothing of general importance can be effected. This Patriarch is elected by the votes of the neighbouring bishops; but he must be presented to the Sultan for institution; and as nothing is done in Turkey without a present, the fee on this occasion amounts to 20,000 or 30,000 dollars, the Sultan still retaining the power of deposition, banishment, or even of death. The Patriarch possesses the considerable privilege of naming his brother patriarchs, but the rescript of the Sultan is still necessary for their confirmation, and even to that of every bishop who may be appointed by the Patriarch. Thus the Greek Church exhibits none of the “supremacy” of the Roman. It has since the reign of Constantine claimed no “temporal sovereignty,” and it has thus in some measure been freed from the intrigues, violences, and crimes, which form so large a part of the history of priestly ambition.

Another important prevention of those evils was the marriage of the parochial priesthood. In the earlier periods of this Church, marriage was _commanded_ to the priest, and was considered so necessary to his office that on the death of his wife he must give up his parish. Even now, notwithstanding the example of Rome, the _secular_ clergy are permitted to marry, though only once. The _regular_ clergy (monks) are not permitted to marry, on the absurd principle that their lives are an offering for the popular sins, and that celibacy belongs to holiness. The marriage of the priesthood had the natural effect of rendering them loyal, by the connection of their children with the country, of preventing the irregularities to which constrained celibacy inevitably gives rise, and of preventing that ambition for the influence of their class which naturally exhibits itself in great bodies who have no tie but to the head of their order. _Constrained_ celibacy is, in fact, a conspiracy against human nature, which always transpires in a conspiracy against human Allegiance.

Monasticism forms a prominent feature of the system. The Greek convents are numerous, powerful, and in some instances opulent. Their inhabitants are divided into Caloyers (monks) and lay brethren. The lives of the former are comparatively indolent; of the latter, comparatively laborious. But the Caloyer has his peculiar round of irksome occupations. Matins begin at four in the morning, and last until dawn. The performance of the Liturgy is followed by reciting the life of some saint, and that is followed again by nine hymns, six of which are to the Virgin, and three to the saint of the day. In Lent, his task is wearisome: he must go through the whole Psalter every day, and perform the Metania, which consists in kissing the ground _three hundred_ times in the twenty-four hours. To this employment four hours of the night, of which two are immediately after midnight, are devoted. How any human understanding can conceive that this drudgery is connected with virtue, is productive of good to man, or is acceptable to his Creator, must be left to the reveries of the monk, and the recorded absurdities of human nature.

The lay brothers are the farmers, the shepherds, the tillers, and the traders of the convent. They are industrious, and so far they remove the stigma from the general uselessness of conventual life. Some of those communities are largely endowed. The monks of the well-known brotherhood of Mount Athos have twenty convents, and possess extensive lands. Their Turkish taxation is generally moderate, and indolence never had an easier form than in the shape of the Caloyer.

The state of the Russian Church would lead us too far into inquiry; but it has a history of its own, some remarkable peculiarities, and some prospects well worthy of examination. Those who feel an interest in the subject may be referred to Stourdza, _Considerations sur la Doctrine_, to King _On the Russian Church_, and to the brief but exact _Treatise on the Greek Church_ by the present learned Dean of Durham. The subject may well interest us, when it involves the religious welfare of the millions inhabiting the Eastern provinces of Europe, the Danubian provinces, the length of Asia Minor, a portion of Syria, Assyria, and Africa, and the sixty millions of Russia—an immense extent of human existence, which a few years may open to a purer faith, and which is already qualifying, by the effects of knowledge, suffering, and war, for the GOSPEL.

NICARAGUA AND THE FILIBUSTERS.

It is a fixed idea with the American people, that in due course of time they are to have the control of all the North American continent, and of the Island of Cuba; they consider this their “manifest destiny,” and any movement in that direction is looked on by them as a matter of course, and deserving of encouragement.

The popular name for the agency by which such a state of things is to be brought about is “filibusterism.” The word “filibuster” is a French and Spanish corruption of the English word freebooter, an appellation which, in former days, from its being frequently assumed by a certain class of men, who disliked the harsher name of pirate, became familiar to the inhabitants of the West India Islands and Central America; but as filibusterism is now used, it expresses the action of the American people, or a portion of the people, in the acquisition of territory which does not belong to them, unrestrained by the responsibilities of the American Government.

The sovereign people of the United States, and the United States Government, are two distinct bodies, influenced by different motives. The Government is obliged to maintain the appearance of keeping faith with other friendly powers, but at the same time is so anxious to gain popularity at home, that it does not take really effectual measures to check any popular movement, however illegal it may be, if favoured by the majority of the people.

The manner in which the State of Nicaragua has been reduced, or, it should rather be said, raised to her present position, by being occupied and governed by a large body of Americans, affords an instance of the truth of this statement.

For the last two years the American and English Governments have been exchanging diplomatic letters, arguing at great length on the abstract meaning of certain words of a treaty, by which either power was equally bound not to occupy, fortify, colonise, or take possession of, any part of Central America. In the mean time a party of American citizens, under command of a certain Colonel Walker, have virtually taken possession of, and do now govern the State of Nicaragua, one of the States specially mentioned in the treaty. When they first landed in Nicaragua, not ten months ago, they numbered only fifty-six men; but in as far as they had the good-will of the majority of the American people, they represented the nation as truly as General Pierce and his Cabinet. Colonel Walker was merely the practical exponent of a popular theory, and his success has been so rapid and decisive, and such is the position he now holds in Nicaragua, strengthened by daily accessions to his force from California and from the United States, that the Americanisation of Nicaragua may be almost considered an established fact.

Should the Americans in that country be able to maintain their position, of which, at present, there seems to be every probability, the successful filibustering of Nicaragua will be but the beginning; the end will be the occupation, by Americans, of all the Central American States, and, in due course of time, of Mexico and Cuba.

In order to show why the filibustering energies of the Americans have been specially directed to Nicaragua, and how it is that so small a party of them have so quickly got control of that State, and also to appreciate fully the position which their leaders occupy as members of the newly-formed government, it is necessary to give some information on the political condition of the country, and on recent events there, which the writer, while a resident in the country during the greater part of the revolution, had good opportunity of acquiring.

On the discovery of gold in California in 1848, when there was such a rush of gold-hunters to that land of promise both from the Old and the New World, the route generally followed was that by Panama, as the most expeditious—lines of steamers being established by American companies from New York and New Orleans to Chagres, and from Panama to San Francisco.

The supply of steamers, however, was never sufficient for the accommodation of the crowds of eager emigrants; the profits of the steamship companies were enormous, and American enterprise was not long in discovering and opening a new, and in many respects superior, route to the golden regions of the Pacific.

The new route lay through the State of Nicaragua, one of the five States into which the Central American Confederation was dissolved in the year 1831.

It was to the advantages offered by its geographical position that Nicaragua owed its distinction. The Lake of Nicaragua, a splendid sheet of water ninety miles long by about fifty broad, lies within the State. Its most western extremity is only twelve miles from the Pacific, and at its eastern extremity about one hundred and fifty miles from the Atlantic: it empties itself into that ocean through the river San Juan, which is navigable all the distance for small vessels, and forms at its mouth the harbour of Greytown or San Juan del Norte. An inter-oceanic canal was first talked of, but it was found that it would take all the gold in California to construct it; so that idea was for the time abandoned, and a New York company, styled the Accessory Transit Company of Nicaragua, got a charter from the State, granting them for considerations the exclusive privilege of steam-navigation of the river San Juan, and of the Lake Nicaragua, for a period of ninety-nine years.

Steamboats of various capacities, to suit the navigation of the river and of the lake, were sent out—a road over the twelve miles of land, between the lake and the harbour of San Juan del Sur on the Pacific, was commenced—steamships were put on between that port and San Francisco, and between New York and Greytown, and a large share of the Californian emigration began to stream through the country.

The difficulties of the route were at first considerable, owing to the number of rapids in the River San Juan requiring boats of peculiar construction for their navigation, and from the fact of the country through which lies the road to the Pacific being a mountainous wilderness, the greater part covered by a dense tropical forest.

In the rainy season, which lasts for about five months, the road was so bad that a mule would sink to his belly at every step; the twelve miles were not unfrequently a two days’ journey, and many a poor mule, after vainly struggling to extricate himself, succumbed to his fate, and was absorbed in the mud, leaving his rider to fight his own way through, which he generally did without much trouble. Such little difficulties were not thought much of by Californian emigrants in those days.

The Company, however, soon completed the road, and so far perfected their arrangements that the passage from ocean to ocean is performed in two days.

The travel to and fro between California and the Atlantic States is not confined to any particular class of the community. Capitalists, merchants, professional men, mechanics, labourers,—in fact, people of all classes, are constantly going and coming. For the last five years an average of two thousand Americans per month have passed to and fro by this route, and, during the few days occupied in transit, have had ample time to admire and covet the splendid country through which they passed, to look with utter contempt on the natives, and to speculate on what a country it would be if it were only under the Stars and Stripes.

The country, its climate, its advantages, resources, and social and political condition, have thus been gradually made familiar to a constantly increasing proportion of the people of the United States and of California.

It is in natural consequence of all this, and of the apparent hopelessness of immediate success in Cuba, that the attention of the filibustering portion of the American community has been gradually directed to the State of Nicaragua, and the late civil war in that country offered too favourable an opportunity to be lost for making a beginning in furtherance of the cherished idea.

The constitution of Nicaragua, like that of all the Spanish-American States, is republican—that is to say, in name; in effect it approaches more nearly to a despotism, a mode of government much better adapted to a people the majority of whom are quite incompetent to form any idea on the subject of self-government.

Since the dissolution of the Central American Confederation the country has been in a constant state of revolution. Two years is about the longest period of peace which has intervened. The people are wantonly destructive and cruel in their civil warfare; and having been so actively employed for nearly twenty years in cutting each other’s throats, battering down each other’s cities, spending their money in gunpowder, and ruining all producing interests by taking the labourers from the field to serve as soldiers, they had managed to reduce themselves and their country to such a wretched state of misery, that it really appeared to be the duty of some civilised nation to step in and keep them all in order.

In passing through the country, one cannot but be struck with the ruin and desolation everywhere apparent, and with the remains of bygone wealth and grandeur, but little in accordance with the poverty and listless indolence in which the inhabitants are now contented to live.

Their cities are half in ruins, and the churches, which, in their mode of warfare, they use as fortresses, have come in for their full share of destruction. Those which remain are peppered all over with cannon balls. The ruins on the old indigo and cotton estates give one an idea of the different way in which the people once employed themselves; but now, in a country capable of producing in the greatest abundance indigo, cotton, sugar, rice, coffee, tobacco, and nearly every other tropical production, little else is to be seen but plantains and Indian corn, the two great staple articles of food. The tobacco grown in the country is good; the people, men, women, and children, are inveterate smokers, but they do not even raise sufficient tobacco for their own consumption. The “cacao,” or chocolate, raised in the neighbourhood of the town of Rivas, is the finest in the world: it is a national beverage, and the greater part of the crop is consumed in the country; a small quantity is exported to the neighbouring States; but with the exception of a few bullock hides and deerskins, which are sent to New York, the country cannot be said to have any exports.

The climate generally is by no means unhealthy. It varies very much throughout the State, being in some parts much tempered by a constant breeze off the lake, while in the high lands of Segovia and Matagalpa, the temperature is so moderate that most of the grains and fruits of the north can be raised in great perfection.

The rainy season commences about the end of July, and continues till November or December. During this season it rains in torrents for days at a time, and the roads become almost impassable. The most sickly periods of the year are the beginning and the end of this season; fever and ague are then very prevalent, but the natives suffer more than foreigners, chiefly owing to the wretched way in which they live, the habitations of the lower orders affording generally but poor protection against the weather.

In the mountains of the district of Matagalpa, which form part of the great range which traverses all the North American continent, are mines of gold and silver. They have hitherto only been worked by the Indians in a very rude manner, but sufficient has been done to prove that they are rich: if scientifically worked, they will no doubt prove very productive.

The forests abound in rosewood, mahogany, and other beautiful woods, and throughout the State many valuable medicinal gums and plants are found.

The scenery is varied and very beautiful; at certain seasons the trees are completely covered with flowers, and the forests are a confused mass of luxuriant vegetation.

There are several volcanic mountains in the country, all of great similarity of appearance: the finest is Ometepe, which rises out of the lake, in the shape of a perfect cone, to the height of many thousand feet.

The people are very deficient in ambition and energy, and have a very decided objection to labour. As long as a man has sufficient to supply his immediate wants, he cannot be induced to work, but will devote himself to the passive enjoyment of swinging in his hammock, and smoking a cigar. In this way they pass the greater part of their time, as very little labour is requisite to provide plantains, beans, and Indian corn, which are the principal articles of food.

Gambling is a prevailing vice, cards and dice being chiefly played. Cockfighting, however, is the great national sport, and at this the most money is staked. The fight is never of very long duration, being generally nothing more than a flutter of wings for a moment, when one cock crows over the other lying dead at his feet, nearly cut in two by the long sharp knives with which their heels are armed.

They have celebrated breeds of chickens, on which they pride themselves, and in almost every house in the country may be seen one or more gamecocks tied by the leg in a corner. The owner is always ready to fight a cock on any occasion, but Sunday afternoon is the time generally devoted to this amusement, which is patronised by all classes.

The people possess a great deal of natural grace, and are extremely polite and formal in their manners; even the lower orders are remarkable for their gracefulness of gesture, and for their courteous phraseology.

The principal cities of Nicaragua are Granada, on the northern shore of the lake, and Leon, about a hundred and fifty miles to the north, and not far from the Pacific coast. They are both fine cities, built in the usual Spanish-American style, with narrow streets, and large houses of a single storey, covering an immense area, and built in the form of a square, the centre being an open space, generally planted with trees and flowers, and all round which is a wide open corridor. The houses are very spacious and lofty, and admirably adapted to the climate.

The population of Granada is about 15,000, that of Leon is rather more. Between the inhabitants of these two cities there has always existed a bitter feeling of jealousy and enmity, and in most of their revolutions the opposing factions have been the Granadinos against the Leoneses. So it was in the revolution which is only now terminated, and which commenced in May 1854.

The government at that time was in the hands of the Granada party. The president, the late Don Fruto Chamorro, was a man of great energy and determination, but unfortunately also of most stubborn obstinacy. He would listen to advice from no one, but blindly insisted on carrying out his own ideas. After being a little more than a year in power, and becoming more despotic every day, he issued a decree, declaring himself president for four years more than the usual term.

The Leon party of course immediately got up a revolution, of which the leaders were a few prominent men, whom Chamorro had a few months before banished from the State, on suspicion of their being engaged in a conspiracy against the government. At the head of them was Francisco Castillon, a man of superior education, and with much more liberal and enlightened views than most of his countrymen, having spent some years in England as minister for Nicaragua. The object of the revolution was to place Castillon in power, and the party professed to entertain liberal ideas, and styled themselves the Democratic Party. They commenced their operations at Realejo, a small port on the Pacific, at the northern extremity of the State, where, with a small force, they surprised the few soldiers of the garrison. They proceeded to Chinandega, a considerable town about six miles on the way to Leon. Here they met but slight resistance, the majority of the people being favourable to them; and with a large addition to their force, they marched towards Leon, distant about thirty miles, where they established their head-quarters, after fighting one battle in the neighbourhood with the government forces under Chamorro in person, who was defeated, and retired to Granada. In Leon they remained some time recruiting their forces, before venturing to attack Granada, which is the great stronghold of the government party.

The system adopted of recruiting is very simple indeed. A few soldiers with fixed bayonets are sent out to bring in fresh men, or, to use their own expressive term, to “catch” men. When the unfortunate recruit is “caught,” a musket is put in his hands, and he becomes a soldier. Soldiering is by no means a popular occupation: during a revolution, at the approach of forces of either party, the peace-loving natives, in order to escape being “caught,” and forced into the service, will remain hidden in the woods till they are nearly starved. The lower orders take but little interest in the revolutions, or in politics, and from troops raised in this way, of course very valorous deeds are not to be expected. They generally desert on the first opportunity; but, if they do not take their muskets with them, it is of little consequence, as other men are soon caught, and made to carry them. Sometimes, however, men become scarce, the able-bodied having emigrated to some more peaceful locality; in such a case one-half of a garrison is placed to keep guard over the other half, to prevent their running away.

There is consequently no mutual feeling of confidence between officers and men. During impending danger of an attack, the officers will keep their horses saddled all night, and sleep with their spurs on, ready to cut and run at a moment’s notice, and leave their men to take care of themselves. The men, in their turn, when led into battle, will turn round and desert their officers at the most critical moment. There are exceptions, of course; and during the late revolution, many, both officers and men, fought well and bravely; none more so than the late President Chamorro.

While the Democrats were recruiting in Leon, Chamorro was busy collecting his forces in Granada, and preparing to stand a siege.

In all these Spanish towns is a large public square called the Plaza, in which are generally the principal church, the barracks, and other public buildings. The Plaza, in case of war, becomes the citadel, the streets leading into it being all barricaded, and cannon planted so as to command the approaches. Chamorro enclosed within his barricades the Plaza, and a considerable portion of the city immediately surrounding it. The streets being narrow, barricades were soon made of logs of wood and “adobes,” a sort of sun-dried bricks, of which the houses are built.

Double and triple barricades of this sort, eight or ten feet high, presented a very effectual resistance to anything which the enemy had to bring against them. The Democrats soon made their appearance, and taking possession of all that part of the city not enclosed in the barricades, they fixed their head-quarters in an elevated situation, from which they could pop their cannon balls into any part of the Plaza.

Neither party were well provided with artillery. They had each three or four guns, twelve and twenty-four pounders, with which they blazed away at each other for nearly a year, and between them managed to lay about three-fourths of the city in ruins.

The city was never completely invested, and occasional skrimmages between small parties of the opposing forces took place outside the town, but nothing worthy the name of an assault was ever attempted. The Democrats soon became masters of the entire country, with the exception of the besieged portion of the city of Granada occupied by Chamorro and his party, the Legitimists, as they called themselves.

When a small detachment of the Democratic army marched upon Rivas, the only town of importance in the part of the country through which the Transit road passes, the inhabitants, being mostly in favour of the Chamorro government, fled _en masse_, taking with them all their valuables and movable property, to the neighbouring state of Costa Rica, the frontier of which is within twenty miles.

The few who had the courage to remain were not molested, but the Democrats appropriated to their own use as barracks, &c., whatever private houses suited their convenience, and commenced levying contributions on the inhabitants; but as they had fled, and were not present to respond to the call, their property was advertised for sale, their stores broken open, their goods sold, and sundry other forcible measures taken to raise funds.

The mode of financing in time of revolution is equally simple with that of recruiting.

When a contribution, as they call it, is levied on a town, the principal inhabitants are assessed arbitrarily by the officers in command for as much as each is supposed to be able to pay. The unfortunate victims have then to fork out the dollars; there is no help for them. If they refuse, or plead poverty, they are perhaps imprisoned and kept on low diet: a few days of this treatment has a wonderful effect on the memory, and frequently enables a man to remember where he has buried his cash, or to discover some means of raising the needful, to be handed over for the support of the party, to which probably he may be opposed. When his own party come in to power again, they will make him disgorge to double the amount by way of punishment. For these forced loans he may get some sort of debenture, worth about as much as the paper it is written on. In such times the people are afraid to let it be supposed that they have any money at all; they feign poverty, burying their money secretly, and the houses of foreign residents are lumbered up with all sorts of chests and boxes, sent there stealthily by the unfortunate natives, in order to keep them safe from the rapacity of their countrymen.

The Democrats from the first were eager to obtain the good-will of the American residents; and as they professed to be fighting in the cause of liberty and progress, against tyranny and old-fogeyism, they succeeded in enlisting a dozen or so of Americans in San Juan del Sur and Virgin Bay. The latter place is a small village on the lake, where the passengers by the Transit route embark on the steamers. They paid these men about a hundred dollars per month, gave them commissions as colonels and captains, and sent them to Granada to pepper the Chamorro party with their rifles.

With the aid of some Americans, they also took possession of San Carlos, which is an old fort situated at the point where the lake debouches into the river San Juan. It is a position of great importance, as it commands the entrance into the lake, by which is the only communication between the interior of the country and the Atlantic. They also occupied an old Spanish fort about fifty miles down the river, called Castillo, where there are a few hotels kept by Americans for the accommodation of passengers by the Transit route.

In Leon, the head-quarters of the Democrats, they proclaimed their government, declaring Castillon president. They appointed all the necessary government functionaries throughout the State, and in fact were the virtual government of the country.

The Legitimists remained in a state of siege in Granada, and would have had to surrender for want of ammunition, had they not succeeded in retaking San Carlos from the Democrats, and thereby opening their communication with the Atlantic; they then procured a large supply of powder and shot from Jamaica.

During the siege the besieging army of Democrats numbered about fifteen hundred, while the Legitimists did not number more than a thousand.

The Democrats were assisted by the state of Honduras to the extent of two hundred men; and the Legitimists were long in negotiation with the government of Guatemala, which was favourable to their cause, but they did not succeed in getting any material aid from that State.

After ten months’ vain endeavour to take the Plaza of Granada, the Democrats, last February, broke up their camp, and retired to Leon. At a town called Masaya, about half-way from Granada, they were overtaken and attacked by the opposite party. A bloody fight ensued—the thickest of it took place in the church, in which some three hundred men were killed.

The Granada party now regained possession of the southern part of the State, while the Democrats continued to hold Leon and all the northern portion.

During the time that the Transit route had been held by the Democrats, they had been most active in their endeavours to enlist Americans in their cause. Cash was scarce, but their offers of lands to those who would join them were very liberal; and it soon became known, both in Nicaragua and in California, that a negotiation had been concluded between Colonel Walker in San Francisco, through his agent in Nicaragua, and the Democratic government, whereby large tracts of land were granted to him, and other privileges guaranteed to him, on condition of his coming down with a certain number of men to serve in the Democratic army.

This Colonel Walker had already distinguished himself as the most daring filibuster of the day. In the month of October 1853, he was the leader of an expedition which sailed from San Francisco, with the intention of taking possession of Sonora, a northern state of Mexico, adjoining California. He landed at a small place on the coast, with some fifty or sixty men, where he met but little resistance. He proclaimed himself president, and appointed each one of his party to some high office of state. He very soon, however, had to evacuate the premises, and escaped to California, with but a small portion of his original band; and on his arrival in San Francisco, was tried for a violation of the neutrality laws: he conducted his own defence, and of course was acquitted. The people of California are not disposed to judge very harshly of such an enterprise, and from the larger portion of the community he met with more sympathy than condemnation.

It was so publicly known in San Francisco that Walker was fitting out his Nicaraguan expedition, that the authorities were of course compelled to interfere. Their endeavours to stop the sailing of his brig, however, were not very effectual, as Walker, having embarked all his small party of fifty-six men, managed to get under weigh during the night.

In the month of May they arrived in the port of Realejo, and marched to Leon to join the head-quarters of the Democratic army.

The Legitimists were now in a perpetual state of consternation: during the siege of Granada they had learned to appreciate the efficacy of an American rifle in American hands; and in their frightened imaginations, Walker’s modest force of fifty-six men was augmented to 500. They made active preparations, however, to give him a warm reception: proclamations were issued with the object of rousing the patriotism of the people, calling on all to be ready to take up arms to save the independence of the country, and ordering all the inhabitants, on the approach of Walker, to retire to the nearest garrison. However, excepting among the political leaders of the party, and those compromised with them in the revolution, the prospect of Americans gaining the ascendancy in the country seemed to be regarded with indifference. Indeed, many of the upper classes, tired of their constant revolutions, and the ruin and misery attendant upon them, longed secretly for the presence of any foreign influence which should guarantee peace in the country.

The first active service in which Walker and his men were engaged was in an expedition which was formed by the Democrats to recapture the town of Rivas. About the end of June, the expeditionary force, consisting of Walker’s party, and two hundred native troops under the immediate command of their own officers, embarked at Realejo in two or three small vessels, and landing in the neighbourhood of San Juan del Sur, marched across the country upon the town of Rivas, distant about twenty-five miles.

The people of Rivas, when the Legitimists retook the town in February, had returned from their voluntary exile in Costa Rica; and feeling, no doubt, ashamed of the inglorious way in which, a year before, they abandoned their town to the Democrats without ever firing a shot, they roused themselves now to make a stout resistance, their spies having given them ample warning of the enemy’s approach.

When the Democrats arrived, and the fight began, Walker was most shamefully deserted by the whole of the native troops, and he found himself, with his fifty-six Americans, opposed to a force of about four hundred.

His party, however, had taken up their position in a house, from which their rifles dealt sudden death most profusely—all the natives killed were hit in the head; but at last they expended their ammunition, and the Legitimists setting fire to the house, they were obliged to cut their way through them, and retired to San Juan del Sur, which place they reached unmolested, the natives not caring to follow them.

The loss on Walker’s side, in this affair, was six men killed; while the Legitimists lost about seventy.

At San Juan del Sur they found a small schooner to take them back to Realejo; and before sailing, Walker performed an act of summary justice, which raised him highly in the opinion of many people in the country. He and his men had all embarked quietly in the evening on board the schooner, which was lying in the harbour, and were waiting till morning for a breeze, when, about midnight, two Americans, who did not belong to Walker’s party, and were well known to be bad and desperate characters, set fire to a large wooden building which was used as a barrack: their object was to burn the town, and take the opportunity of the confusion to rob and plunder the inhabitants, expecting, no doubt, that Walker’s party would join them.

They made a great mistake, however; for, on going on board Walker’s vessel, and boasting of what they had done, he immediately arrested them, and as there were no authorities ashore to whom he could hand them over, he had them tried by a court-martial at once, by which they were sentenced to be shot. One was shot while endeavouring to make his escape in a boat; the other was taken ashore to be shot, where, in the darkness of the night, he managed to escape from his guards.