II.
Celebrating a Victory—General Serrano—a Cuban Sacristan—His View of Mary Magdalene—Sunday—The Theatre de Tacon—General Serrano’s Wife—A “Norther”—The Fish Market—Brilliancy of the Fish—A Venerable Cosmopolite—The Slaves—The Chain Gang—The Cerro—A Count’s Country-house—No Twilight—Oranges—Polyglot Dinner—Lottery Ticket.
Sunday, March 4th.
HIS morning high mass was celebrated, and the Te Deum sung in the Cathedral. As this is in honor of the victory, all the church dignitaries and officers of state were in attendance, dressed in their respective uniforms. First came Captain-General Serrano, whose title in Spain is Marquis de San Antonio. He is heralded by a grand flourish of martial music from the band, which had just played the national air of Spain. He is a rather fine-looking man, with a massive bald head and penetrating eye; the countenance expressing weight of character, stirring experiences in life, a consciousness of power and responsibility. He is said to be the father of two of the children of the Queen of Spain. Her marble statue has just been erected in one of the principal squares, and is nightly illuminated to receive the admiration and homage of the loyal multitude. Following him, as next in office, comes the Governor of the Island, whose resemblance to Mr. S—— has often caused them to be mistaken for each other; the latter sometimes finding honors thrust upon him of which he is wholly unambitious. Then come all the military, civil, and marine officers, in gold lace, epaulets, ribbons, stars, and decorations of all devices, the whole retinue filling the church, except the centre, where a few ladies in black veils kneel upon bright-colored mats, which servants in livery bring under their arms and spread for the ladies’ dainty dresses to cover. A few of these mats are brought by negresses with shawls thrown over their heads instead of veils. As soon as the mat is spread, the mistress drops upon it, crossing herself too rapidly and adroitly for Protestant eyes to follow, all the time saying her prayers and looking devoutly at the image of the Virgin standing in the centre of the altar. The negress kneels respectfully upon the bare floor by her side or behind her. Mr. S—— pointed out to me several counts, marquises, and other notabilities, refreshing to the republicanism of Yankee optics. Meanwhile the chancel is filling with bishops, priest, and friars, in magnificent costumes, and soon the grand Te Deum swells over the kneeling multitude. Governor, lords, ladies, and soldiers, bowed on the same floor with the negro slave. It floats on over the floating incense; then it ascends and seems to pause like a halo around the painted heads of saints and apostles listening in the ceiling. Just in front of us knelt Count——, a friend of Mr. S——, leaning upon a diamond-headed cane, and looking incessantly at his watch, to see how soon the ceremonies and unaccustomed posture would come to an end.
After all was over, the sacristan, dressed in a blue woollen gown and wide embroidered white cambric collar, escorted us over the edifice. Its external, so quaint and unique, so like a relic of the middle ages, with towers and walls marred and rent, and crumbling with the rapid effects of the moist climate rather than of time, did not indicate so much beauty and art as existed within. It is chiefly in the Moorish style, the numerous paintings mostly from Rome, and nearly all copies from the best masters. The sacristan made himself jolly; offered to robe me in the bishop’s vestments and ornament me with the crosiers, and staffs, and mitres, and what-nots, in the robing-room. But I, being less familiar with these sacred emblems than he, felt less contempt, and declined the honor. One of the paintings, a dark old dilapidated affair hanging in an ante-room, represents Christ talking earnestly to Mary Magdalene. She turns her coquettish head from him in a most coquettish way, and with a look of more affected than real shame and sorrow. The old fellow pointed it out to us, and, with a significant twinkle, said to Mr. S——, in Spanish,—
“That was Jesus Christ’s woman.”
To Mr. S——’s exclamation of astonishment, he replied,—