Thus faded the Confederacy. We prayed for victory—no people ever uttered more earnest prayers—and the God of hosts gave us victory in defeat. We prayed for only that little strip, that Dixie-land, and the Lord gave us the whole country from the lakes to the Gulf, from ocean to ocean—all dissensions settled, all dividing lines wiped out—a united country forever and ever!
CHAPTER XIII.
HAVANA—HÔTEL CUBANO—OUR HOME ON THE CERRO.
No pencil can give an adequate picture of Havana as one enters its harbor. It is the loveliest gem of the ocean. To us, who had so long dealt with the rough realities of life, it was as a bit of fairy-land, where everybody was happy, sailing, driving, and gliding about, for very lack of work-day occupation. Entering between the beetling heights of El Morro on one side and the frowning guns of La Punta on the other, as we steamed up toward the queen city of the “Ever-faithful Isle,” the panorama that gradually unfolded itself in the golden rays of the rising sun was gorgeous in its enchanting beauty. The water of the landlocked, tideless bay, made foully offensive by receiving the drainage of a very dirty city for a century or more, and on whose capacious bosom float ships from every clime, was nevertheless the bluest and most sparkling ever seen.
The solid, substantial public buildings and warehouses that bordered the landing were relieved of all work-day, business look by the surrounding airy structures in red, blue, and yellow, with light, graceful balconies and turrets; while here and there tall, waving palms, cocoa-palms, dark-green orange, and other tropical fruit-trees hedged them in, shading them even to the water’s edge.
The rising ground beyond, the cerro (hill) crowned all with its Oriental quintas and pleasure-gardens, and gradually faded away into the ethereal distance of the loveliest skies that bend over tired man. Church spires and belfries, very Moorish in design, diversified the whole landscape, and the clang or chime of church-bells was ceaselessly wafted on the air.
How prosperous and rich Cuba was in those days! How happy the people! how animated and gay! We arrived when it was at the very acme of its opulence, when fairly drunk with the excess of wealth and abundance.
The reaction upon us was almost stunning. Arriving at the hotel, it was very evident I really and truly had “nothing to wear,” where ladies sailed in and out the marble-floored drawing-room, in long, trailing garments of diaphanous texture, with flowers in their hair and jewels on their bosoms. We were at Hôtel Cubano, kept by an enterprising American woman, whose genial hospitality, exceeding liberality, and excellent table, had for years attracted the best American visitors, and now the house was overflowing with Southerners. The building was of stone, five stories in height, extending around a paved court, the only entrance to which was a massive gateway sufficiently ample to admit a coach and four. On the ground-floor were the carriage-rooms and stabling for horses of mine hostess, who rode in the most stylish victoria that frequented the paseo. The second floor, being entre suelo (half-story), its low apartments were devoted to the uses of servants and inferior offices. On the third floor were the parlors, dining-hall, a few bedrooms, and kitchen. The two stories above were occupied as bedrooms. All these apartments opened upon broad balconies that surrounded the inner court. The upper tier, which received some of the sun’s rays at noon, were embellished with pots of gay blossoming plants and festooned with vines. The front of the house had deep windows leading out upon narrow balconies, whereas the other rooms had only small openings half-way up to the ceiling which afforded ventilation with limited light The flat roof, laid in cement and protected on all sides with high, stone parapets, furnished a charming evening promenade, whence an extended view of the ocean and harbor could be had; and it also overlooked the azoteas and courts of neighboring houses, affording glimpses of Cuban interiors that were often very amusing. The laundry occupied a portion of this azotea, but its area was so ample that the domestic operations did not interfere with the enjoyment of the guests. One broad marble stairway, with massive balustrades of the same material, wound from bottom to top of the building, providing the inmates with the only means of communication with its different stories. Bags of charcoal, barrels of flour, and other bulky articles, were secured by ropes in the court and hoisted by main strength to the wash-house on the roof, or the kitchen on the third floor, as required; refuse was lowered at night by the same hand-labor. Sweet memories cluster around this quaint hotel, for it was a haven of rest for us as long as we lived in Cuba. We became extremely attached to its generous hostess; and to her cordial hospitality and kindly courtesies, continued through a decade of trying years, we were indebted for some of the brightest days of our residence on the island.
The salons and balconies were thronged with Confederates as homeless as ourselves, but I found difficulty in recognizing in some of the belaced and befrilled beauties gliding about, the women who scarce had stockings and handkerchiefs when I last saw them in Texas.
Though having no plan that involved even a temporary residence in Havana, we never for a moment contemplated a return to the United States until peace was restored and quiet assured. The confinement in the hotel soon became, however, intolerably irksome to the children and servants. (Zell, who drove our mules through the rushing Nueces River, had arrived previously with my brother.) Martha’s experience before the alcalde in Mexico had made her so timid that no amount of persuasion would induce her to venture upon the strange, narrow streets unless I was at her side and almost holding her by the hand. Henry had led such a vagabond life that, while he did not go on the streets, the corridors and balconies were not half big enough for him, and his restless enterprise was forever getting him into hot water. One day Patrona, the black chambermaid of the hotel, electrified me by appearing at my door, one hand filled with slit and jagged shirt-collars, and, moving the two forefingers of the other to represent scissors, explained, in her broken, almost unintelligible English, “De muchacho, dat littee man, yo’ littee boy, do dis!” and she gave a vicious snip at a fragment of collar with the improvised implement. Master Henry had found a lot of soiled linen collars, belonging to a guest of the house, which had been freshly marked and spread in the sun on the balcony floor. Remembering a description I had once read to him of the manufacture of paper collars, he cut these to bits, and was surprised, he innocently explained, to find what a splendid imitation of the genuine article could be made of paper! The owner was a red-haired colporteur, or missionary of some sort, established in Havana to receive and forward to Matamoras Bibles and tracts for the use of the Southern army. The custom-house authorities had seized the very first installment, as in Cuba, Bibles are contraband. The poor man was so roiled and outraged thereby, that Henry’s unfortunate raid on his wardrobe was resented in what the child considered very unreasonable and ungenerous terms.
The surrender of our armies, long expected though it may have been by the clear-sighted among us, was none the less a severe blow. We at once realized that a return to our own country must be delayed. A search was instituted for a small residence on the cerro, outside the old city walls, where the streets were wider and each house had “space to breathe.” To our great surprise, a small house was not to be found. Mostly of one story, they seemed small from the street, but they all straggled back into an indefinite, almost unlimited number of apartments. The location of the one finally decided upon was almost its only attraction. The English consul lived directly opposite, the German consul within a stone’s-throw, the Russian representative around the corner, and a few American and English-speaking merchants and business men near by, forming a most delightful and congenial entourage. We did not hesitate long, though the domicile did not quite fill, or rather, I should say, more than filled, our requirements. Having lived so long in one or two rooms, the thought of ten or a dozen appalled us. Like all houses in that voluptuous climate, the windows, stretching from ceiling to floor, and innocent of glass, were only protected by stout iron bars, that might have suggested an insane-asylum or prison had they not exposed such gay and cheerful interiors, where the inmates moved about as freely, talked as gayly, and enjoyed their elaborately spread banquets as unrestrainedly as though they were not the observed of every idle passer-by. The three front rooms of our exposed castle opened upon a broad veranda, situated immediately upon the street; but there was a brave yard in the rear filled with mammee, aguacate, and bread-fruit trees, which interlaced their boughs, forming a shade so dense that the sun’s rays never penetrated. It was soon found that even a damp towel hung there mildewed before it dried. At the foot of this yard was a rushing, tearing, noisy stream of water—perhaps six feet wide—that made as much tumult and transacted as much business as some pretentious rivers; for, as it dashed and hurried along with great speed, it received and transported refuse and débris from all the houses on its banks, whither I know not, but I presume the noisome freight was deposited in the beautiful bay of Havana, the foulness of whose depths is a reproach to Cuban civilization. A few rooms of this house were scantily furnished, for, to use the words of Susan Nipper, we were “temporaries.” There, with Zell and Martha, we kept house, in accordance with our means, for a year.