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SALVADOR OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

CHAPTER I

Discovery of Salvador—Scenery—Volcanoes—Topographical features—Mountain ranges—Natural fertility—Lake Ilopango—Earthquake results—Remarkable phenomena—Disappearance of islands—Public roads improvement and construction under Figueroa government.

It was in the year 1502 that Christopher Columbus, that remarkable and noble-minded Genoese, undeterred by the shameful treatment meted out to him by his adopted countrymen in Spain, sailed away to the East Indies in search of a new passage; and it was in consequence of the mutiny among his ruffianly followers that, putting into Hispaniola, Salvador was discovered. For something over 300 years Spain ruled, and ruled brutally; the history of her government here—as elsewhere through Latin America—being one long series of oppressions, cruelties and injustices practised upon the unfortunate natives and the Spanish residents alike. The ill-treatment extended to Columbus is but a case in point.

Lying on the Pacific Ocean, between the parallels of 13° and 14° 10' N. latitude, and the meridians of 87° and 90° W. longitude, Salvador has a coast-line of about 160 miles, extending from the Bay of Fonseca to the River Paz, which is one of the boundaries between this Republic and the neighbouring State of Guatemala. While Salvador is the smallest of the five different countries forming the Central American group, boasting of but 9,600 square miles, it not alone possesses some of the richest and most beautiful territory, but has the densest population as well as the most considerable industry and the most important commerce.

Very remarkable are the topographical features of Salvador, and very profound is the impression created upon the traveller's mind as he approaches it for the first time through the beautiful Bay of Fonseca, with its wealth of tropical scenery, the romantic islands and the background of noble mountains, afforested to the tops of their numerous peaks, and filling the mind with awe at the memory of their numerous destructive eruptions through the centuries.

The coast here presents, for the greater part, a belt of low-lying, richly wooded alluvial land, varying in width from ten to twenty miles. Behind this, and displaying an abrupt face seawards, rises a noble range of coast mountains—or rather a broad plateau—having an average elevation of 2,000 feet, and relieved by numerous volcanic peaks. It is not the height of these mountains that lends so much dignity and beauty, for, as mountains go, they would be considered as anything but remarkable. It is their extraordinary formation, their almost terrible proximity, and their long and terrifying history, which challenge the attention of the individual who gazes upon them for the first time.

Between the range and the great primitive chain of the Cordilleras beyond, lies a broad valley varying in width from twenty to thirty miles, and being over 100 miles in length. Very gently the coastal plateau subsides towards this magnificent valley, which is drained and abundantly watered by the River Lempa, and is unsurpassed for natural beauty and fertility by any equal extent of country in the tropics.

The northern border of this terrestrial paradise—so far as the eye can judge it—rests upon the flank of the mountains of Honduras, which tower skywards about it to the height of 6,000 to 8,000 feet, broken and rugged to the very summits. To the south of the Lempa, however, the country rises from the immediate and proper valley of the river, first in the form of a terrace with a very abrupt face, and afterward by a gradual slope to the summit of the plateau.

Then comes another curious physical feature—a deep, green, and wooded basin of altogether unique scenic beauty and fertility, formed by the system of numerous small rivers which rise in the western part of the country around the feet of the volcano Santa Ana, falling finally into the sea near Sonsonate. This formation is in the shape of a triangle, the base resting on the sea, and the apex defined by the volcano. A second and even a larger basin is that of the River San Miguel, lying transversely to the valley of the River Lempa, in the eastern division of the State, and separated only by a number of smaller detached mountains from the Bay of Fonseca.

Approaching the Salvadorean coast upon any of the steamers which run there, one is confronted with no fewer than eleven great volcanoes, which literally bristle along the east of the plateau which has been mentioned as intervening between the valley of the Lempa and the sea. As a boy and a keen philatelist, I always wondered why Salvador postage-stamps had a group of three active and terrible-looking volcanoes upon their faces. When I visited that country for the first time I understood. The long row of sentinels, grim, yet extraordinarily beautiful, form a right line from north-west to south-east, accurately coinciding with the great line of volcanic action which is clearly defined from Mexico to Peru. Commencing on the side of Guatemala their order is as follows: Apaneca, Santa Ana, Izalco, San Salvador, San Vicente, Usulután, Tecapa, Zacatecoluca, Chinameca, San Miguel, and Conchagua. There are others of lesser note, besides a family of extinct volcanoes, whose craters are sometimes filled with water, as well as numerous volcanic vents or "blow-holes," which the natives not inaptly call infiernillos, i.e., "little hells!" Even the apparently harmless and beautiful island of Tigre, which occupies the centre of the Bay of Fonseca, and a veritable picture of scenic grandeur, is a slumbering volcano, and has a history at once interesting and terrifying. The memorable Cosieguina, El Viejo, Felica, and Momotombo, in Nicaragua, face El Tigre on the other side.

The most beautiful of the Republic's many volcanic lakes is that of Ilopango, on the borders of which is situated the village of the same name, with a scattered population of between 1,400 and 1,500 people. The lake is some 6·85 miles long from west to east, about 5·11 miles wide, with an area of 25·1 square miles and a developed shore-line of 28·8 miles. The late President of the Republic, General Fernando Figueroa, was kind enough to place a steam-launch at my disposal, which enabled me to see the lake under the most favourable auspices, and in company with his nephew, Señor Angulo, I spent several interesting hours upon its calm, deep green surface. This lake has been the scene of numerous remarkable volcanic phenomena, the most recent of which took place a few weeks after my visit, and resulted in the centre islands, which were one of its most charming features, completely disappearing beneath the surface of its waters.

In January, 1880, the lake had also been the scene of a severe earthquake, which shook the entire surrounding country. Upon this occasion the waters suddenly rose about 4 feet above their usual level, and, flowing into the bed of the Jibóa—a stream which forms the usual outlet from the lake—increased it to the proportions of a broad and raging river, which soon made for itself a channel from 30 to 35 feet in depth. A rapid subsidence in the level of the lake was thus produced, and by March 6 in the same year the surface was 34 feet below its maximum. It was then that the rugged and stony island, about 500 feet in diameter, and which I have mentioned above,