PALM-SUNDAY.
On Palm-Sunday, then, at six o'clock in the morning, I got into the nice, clean, well-managed cars that pass our door every few minutes all day long. The blessing of the palm branches was not to commence until a quarter after eight; but I like to "take time by the forelock," and I also feared that, as the "superior political governor of Havana" had invited "the grandees of Spain, the titled of Castile, the knights grand crosses, the gentlemen, (gentiles hombres,) and civil and military functionaries to contribute their assistance to render the religious acts more solemn," there might be somewhat of a crowd, and so I determined to arrive betimes and secure for myself a seat where I could both see and hear well.
The early morning in Cuba is always delightful, and this 21st of March was very bright and lovely, the sky intensely blue and without a cloud, and a cool breeze gently waving the tall tops of the cocoa-nut trees, and rustling the light, feathery sprays of the graceful bamboos. The white colonnaded houses of the Cerro looked very pleasant among their palms and laurels. La Carolina was in full bloom in some of the gardens, its spreading, leafless branches covered with great plumy tufts of rose-colored filaments; honeysuckle vines and the yellow jasmine climbed about the railings, and the large, brilliant flowers of the mar pacifico completed the floral landscape with that bright "bit" of scarlet so agreeable to the artistic eye.
As we approached the city, however, the pretty houses became fewer, and the mean suburban shops and fondas appeared more grimy than ever in the bright sunlight; their dirty awnings hanging in rags over the badly-paved, broken sidewalk. The houses, all of one or two stories, their exteriors washed with blue, yellow, lilac, or apple-green, wore a general look of never being repaired, and their gay coloring was faded, spotted, stained, and smeared by the exceeding dampness of the climate. I had glimpses, too, as we passed, into narrow streets so frightfully gullied and filthy that they made me shudder. The population of this part of extra-mural Havana was not more prepossessing in appearance than its haunt.
In about half an hour we reached the Campo de Marte, (Field of Mars,) a fine square which would be handsomer if it were bordered with shade-trees. Now it is an arid plain, with a few straggling blades of grass in patches here and there. On one of the sides of this place stands the magnificent mansion of the Aldamas, one of the richest families in the island; on another side, the principal railway station. A great number of volunteers, fine, stout, strong-looking men generally, dressed in a blue and white striped drill uniform, and armed with short swords and bayoneted muskets, were mustering in the middle of the Campo, and a great rabble of little blackies surrounded them, gaping with admiration. At the eastern extremity of the square we cut across the commencement of what used to be called the Parque de Ysabel Segunda; but her statue has been pulled down from its pedestal, and the promenade has now no name. Here again, around the pretty fountain that represents Havana under the form of an Indian maiden supporting a shield that bears the arms of the city, and surrounded by tropical fruits and graceful plants, were plenty of flowers; the blue, crimson, and purple morning-glories, that had just opened their radiant petals to the sun, were the most vividly-colored I have ever seen.
Passing the Tacon Theatre, we soon reached the breach in the city walls by which the cars enter. These old fortifications, built by the Spaniards to keep out the Indians and the English, are being slowly demolished. A very fine white stone church is in progress of erection close by.
The streets within the walls are well paved and clean; the houses mostly large and very strongly built. They usually form a hollow square, the centre being an open yard, containing a few shrubs. The windows of all the rooms reach from the floor to the ceiling; they are without glass and protected by iron bars; thick inside shutters, into which two or three glazed panes are inserted to admit the light, close out any very bad weather, wind or rain. The sidewalks are usually not more than a foot and a half wide; they look like ledges running along the sides of the houses, and are exceedingly uncomfortable for pedestrians, as I found when I descended from the car at its stopping-place in front of the church San Juan de Dios, and proceeded on foot to the cathedral.
San Cristóbal de la Habana, the metropolitan cathedral, is a large and handsome edifice; it dates from 1724, and although it has at the present moment a very time-worn appearance, it was repaired and beautified only a few years since. Two towers and three doors give an imposing air to the front; the arched nave within is lofty and spacious, and separated from the aisles by massive pillars of masonry. The whole of the interior is painted in fresco, but is much deteriorated by the excessive humidity of the climate. The high altar, constructed of beautiful jasper, under a dome of porphyry, supported by columns of the same material, was built in Rome. On the gospel side of the chancel is the tomb of Christopher Columbus, whose ashes, inclosed in a leaden box, rest within the very wall of the sacred edifice.
Few persons had yet assembled in the church, and I quickly obtained a seat on one of the benches that are placed along each side of the nave. I was much pleased to find myself exactly opposite to the crimson velvet-covered arm-chair and reading-desk reserved for the captain-general, and to the less imposing but handsome seats intended for the governor, grandees, and municipality. I was also just behind a row of arm-chairs allotted to the civil and military functionaries.
In the chancel, concealing from view the honored tomb, was raised a purple velvet dais; beneath it stood the purple velvet-covered throne and reading-desk of the bishop. A great black flag with a blood-red cross in its centre leaned against the side of the altar, on which was seen the emblem of our faith swathed in violet crape. An immense white curtain, very artistically draped, was suspended across the southern transept.
As the time passed, colored servants made their appearance every now and then, bringing their mistresses' small low chairs and little carpets; for the Havana churches, like the Catholic churches of the European continent, have no pews. These servants wore the most brilliant liveries, such as orange-tinted indispensables, bright green waistcoat, and red swallow-tail coat, forcibly reminding one of the parrots of the Cuban woods. A complete canary-colored suit, surmounted by a round, woolly, black head, produced a very droll effect. The little chairs were placed and the little carpets spread wherever it was possible, so that the marble floor of the space between the official seats was soon nearly covered. The greater number of ladies, however, had no chairs, but knelt, sometimes three on the same carpet, during the whole of the ceremony; that is, from eight till twelve, only changing their posture occasionally to sitting on the ground, with their feet doubled up on one side.
A little before eight o'clock, the ladies began to arrive. Each one, after she had knelt down and arranged the folds of her voluminous train to her satisfaction, dotted herself over rapidly with a great number of little crosses, and ended by kissing her thumb. This ungraceful performance is only a hasty, careless way of making the three signs taught by the church, which ought to be done thus: The thumb of the right hand is placed across the middle of the index, to represent the cross. The first sign is then made with it on the forehead, Por la señal de la Santa Cruz—"By the sign of the holy cross;" the second on the mouth, De nuestros enemigos—"From our enemies;" the third on the heart, Libra nos, Señor, dios nuestro—"Deliver us, Lord, our God." The sign as it is made usually with us, and a kiss on the cross represented by the thumb and index, terminate this Spanish process of blessing one's self.
The toilettes of some of the fair Spanish and Cuban ladies present on this occasion were of rich black silk, with a black lace mantilla over the head, half shading the face and shoulders. There was an elegant simplicity in this costume that seemed to me to make it fit to be adopted in all countries as a dress for public worship. But the great majority were attired in showy, expensive materials, quite devoid of taste, especially in the choice and harmony of colors. Black grenadine and lace dresses, with light belts, were numerous; satin stripes of the deepest orange color were worn by tall, slender, sallow damsels; vert d'eau, that delicate water-green which demands so imperiously the contrast of lilies and roses, was donned by a stout dame, couleur de café au lait; and one lady displayed an ample, sweeping robe of that bright hue the French call Bismark content, which imparted an unearthly lustre to her natural green tinge that made my flesh creep. Lace mantillas over the head were universal. Most were black; but some young girls wore white ones, fastened to their hair with a bunch of rose-buds. There were a great many blue silk bodices, of the style affected by Swiss maidens; and I remarked that the fat ladies were very partial to low dresses and short sleeves, with handsome necklaces and bracelets. No one wore gloves, and every one carried a fan.
There was a great majority of expressive, intelligent faces among these belles, and there were plenty of large black eyes, some very beautiful; and there were pretty lips, which disclosed with every smile two even rows of pearly teeth; but there was also a total absence of that fresh, healthy look which, when united to youth, constitutes beauty, whatever be the shape of the features, and without which no woman can be truly lovely. As I contemplated, from my somewhat high bench, the colorless cheeks of the maidens, and the sallow, withered skins of the matrons kneeling on the marble floor before me, I remembered the temperate zone with heart-sick longing. "It seems," thought I, "very delightful, when one reads of it, to inhabit a clime where the trees are ever green, and the flowers in perpetual bloom; where snow and ice are unknown; but look at these pallid girls and their faded mothers—poor, enervated victims of continual heat! And oh! the many physical miseries arising from want of active exercise, and the sluggish torpor that seems to invade the soul as well as the body." And then the days long gone by came back to me; the days when "life went a-Maying with nature, hope, and poesy;" the days when I was young. "How I pity you," I murmured, "pale Cuban girls, who have never run free in the daisied meadows to gather spring violets and primroses; who have never rambled with laughing youths and maidens in the leafy woods of summer, or sported among the dried fallen leaves in the cool, bright days of autumn, or made one in a merry evening party around the sparkling, crackling, glowing winter fire!"
A startling yelp, accompanied by the whistling sound of a well-applied whip, recalled my wandering thoughts. The perrero, in the exercise of his duties, was ejecting a recalcitrant dog, which had contrived to reach the chancel unobserved. This functionary, the perrero—anglicé, dog-man—is peculiar to the cathedral. In all the other churches of Havana, the faithful are constantly grieved by the unseemly spectacle of dogs roaming at will within the sacred precincts, even on the very steps of the altar. The perrero is distinguished by a dark blue serge robe, descending to his feet, and very much resembling a gentleman's dressing-gown in form. Around his neck he wears, as a finish, a wide white frill. He carries, concealed in the folds of this unpretending and rather unbecoming costume, a serviceable cowhide, which he uses with a will upon all canine intruders; and if he can, he concludes his admonishment with a kick, it being generally believed that a dog which has received this final humiliation eschews the cathedral for the rest of his days.
In the mean time, a considerable number of persons had assembled in the church, and the preparations for the blessing of the palms were completed. The highly ornamented branches had been brought in, piled up on great trays; the bishop's pastoral crook had been placed leaning against his throne, and the wax tapers were lighted. The clergy, hastening in procession to the great central door, which was presently thrown wide open, letting in a flood of light and warm air, announced the arrival of the prelate. It was rather difficult to make a passage for him up to the altar; for some good nuns had come with a shoal of little girls, who had been arranged so as to fill up every interstice left by the occupants of the chairs and carpets; but it was done at last, and he advanced slowly and with great dignity up the nave, blessing all as he passed.
The prelate had scarcely taken his seat under the dais, when the doors, opening wide again, gave entrance to the grandees, the municipality, and a number of military and civil functionaries. They were ushered to the places assigned to them by four mace-bearers, habited in the Spanish mace-bearing costume of three hundred years ago, and much resembling in general appearance the tremendous Queen Elizabeth's beef-eaters, who seemed to my childish eyes the most wonderful sight in the Tower of London. They wore loose red velvet tunics, trimmed with gold lace and fringe; the castles of Castile were embroidered on the breast, and the lions of Leon adorned the sleeves; an immense double ruff around the throat; big, high, black boots and buckskin small-clothes, and a wide-brimmed hat turned up on one side, with a red and yellow feather, completed the costume.
The military and civil officers were in full uniform, wearing their orders and decorations; the noblemen and gentlemen in evening dress, and displaying on their breasts numerous ribbons and brilliant stars. They were nearly all venerable-looking, gray-haired men, with that pensive, dignified gravity of demeanor peculiar to the Spaniard.
The religious ceremony now began. The palm-branches blessed were all curiously plaited and lopped, until they were but little more than a yard high, only two or three small leaves being left at the top. They were ornamented with bows of bright-colored ribbons, bunches of artificial flowers, and gold and silver tinsel butterflies. That intended for the prelate was covered with elegant gold devices and arabesques. Each of the grandees in turn ascended the steps of the altar, and, kneeling, received one from the bishop, whose hand he kissed, and then retired. When all had been distributed, the procession was formed; but I must confess that it disappointed me exceedingly. I had expected to see a grove of green, waving palms moving along amidst the hosannas of the multitude; but, as it was, all devotional and picturesque effect was totally wanting. I have since been told that in the poorer churches, which cannot afford to buy the plaited, lopped, and gilded sticks that the bad taste of the people prefer, the simple branch, so exquisitely graceful, is perforce adopted, and the procession, consequently, a very pretty sight.
In the cathedral, the whole ceremony was cold and unimposing. There was no summons from the outside, with response from within. There was no triumphal burst from the organ when the Victor over sin and death made his entry; no anthem to remind us how the chosen will be welcomed to heaven. The procession descended by the southern wing, and went out into the church porch, where the psalms appointed were sung; the great central door was then opened, and it returned up the nave to the altar.
The mass followed, and the bishop delivered a short sermon. His voice was very agreeable, and his manner impressive.
As soon as the service concluded, every one hastened away. There were no loiterers—not even to see the prelate leave the cathedral, which he did on foot, his violet silk train borne by one of the priests. It is, however, but just to remark—if excuse be needed for the haste with which the church was cleared—that it was twelve o'clock, and no one had breakfasted.
I was pleased to meet a friend at the door, who insisted on my going home with her, and I gratefully accepted the invitation; for I felt tired and faint. We accordingly got into her quitrin, and in a few minutes reached the welcome door.
The quitrin, the private conveyance of Cuba, and an improvement on the well-known volante, is a carriage somewhat resembling the victoria, but with two immense wheels; it is swung, too, so easily that a person not accustomed to the vehicle finds it difficult to enter. The shafts are exceedingly long, and the horse in them trots, while a second horse, upon which the calesero rides, canters. This second horse is attached to the carriage by long traces at the left side, and a little ahead of the shaft-horse. The effect produced by the different paces of the animals is very curious.
The calesero, or driver, is always a colored man; he is usually dressed in a blue jacket, (though green, yellow, and red are not unfrequent,) white drill waistcoat and trowsers, and high black leathern leggings, hollowed out under the knee and standing up stiff above it, resembling, in fact, the great boots worn by French postilions, minus the feet. These leggings are fastened down the sides with straps and silver buckles, and ornamented with large silver plates. No stockings, but low-cut shoes, leaving visible the naked instep, heavy silver spurs and a stove-pipe hat, and the calesero is considered an elegant turn-out.
The breakfast was waiting; a Creole one, composed of soup made of the water in which beef-bones, and especially beef knee-caps, had been boiled, flavored with onions fried in lard; of vaca frita—fried cow—little pieces of beef of all shapes, fried also in lard; of ropa vieja—old clothes—slices of cold meat warmed up with sauce; of aporeado—beef torn into shreds of an inch and a half long and stewed with a little tomato, green peppers, garlic, and onions, (this dish looks very like boiled twine;) of picadillo—meat minced as fine as possible and scrambled in eggs, chopped onions and peppers; of rice cooked with little pieces of fat pork and colored with saffron; of very nice pork-chops, the best meat in Cuba, and very different and far superior to Northern pork; of boiled yucca, and ripe plantains, very delicious to the taste, resembling in flavor a well-made apple charlotte. The bread was very good, and more baked than it usually is in the United States. Claret and water was the general beverage, and the meal finished with a cup of hot coffee enriched with creamy milk, boiled without the salt and aniseed that Creoles almost invariably put into it. We were waited on at table by two admirably-trained Chinese, a people much and justly esteemed in Havana as house-servants and cooks.
It was nearly three o'clock when I at last reached home; but not until the next day did I hear of the four unfortunate men shot that afternoon in the streets, during the embarkation of the two hundred and fifty political prisoners for Fernando Po.