Our next visit was to the well-known ingenio (sugar-plantation) belonging to the cousin of the Marquis San Carlos. The sugar-mill stood in front of the master's house, so that the master could watch from his broad balcony the bringing in of the sugar-cane, which was hauled by huge cart- loads drawn by oxen. The sugar-cane, on its arrival, was put between great crushing wheels before it was thrown into the vats. The sturdy negresses, up to their elbows, stirred the foaming syrup after it had boiled. Then it was skimmed and boiled again to purify it. It went through a centrifugal process to crystallize it, and afterward was packed in boxes and stamped in less time than it takes to relate this. I liked to breathe the hot vapors coming from the huge tanks. What remains of the sugar is used as fuel; so nothing is wasted.
All the slaves seemed gay and well-fed. The Chinese, I believe, are liked better than the natives, they are so clean and adroit. We visited the houses of the slaves and found them all well kept. The master threw silver pieces (ten cents) to the children, who seemed content in their bare nakedness and clamored for more pennies. We drank querap (molasses) from the tanks mixed with whiskey. It was very good; but a little went very far. Two small children fanned us with palmettos during dinner. We passed the night there in the ingenio; but we saw no tarantulas, as was predicted. The next morning, when our coffee was brought, there was an assortment of delicious fruits—pineapples, guavas, bananas, cocoanuts, mangos, etc., which we enjoyed immensely. There was a little excitement before we started: the gardener, a bridegroom of eighty-five summers, was married to a blooming young person of eighty, both slaves and black as ink. We arrived at Havana that evening.
You can't tell how grieved I was to hear of the kind and good Emperor Napoleon's death. He was only sixty-five years old. I thought he was older. What an eventful life he had—tragical would be the right word. What did he not endure? When he was a child he was an exile, and since then, until he became first President and then Emperor, he was knocking about the world, sometimes hidden and sometimes pursued. However, he had fifteen years of glory, for there was not in all Europe a man more considered than he was, and he had until the last four years of his reign more prestige than any other sovereign. I think after the tragedy of Mexico his star began to pale.
The Emperor Napoleon was certainly the kindest-hearted and best- intentioned man in the world, so full of life, fun, and appreciation. I can see him now shaking with laughter when anything amused him, as was often the case at Compiègne.
The papers say that he had once been a policeman in London. I do not believe this is true, though the Emperor told me himself that he had lived very humbly at times; still, that is very different from being a policeman. I wonder if the Prince will try to get back the throne. He does not look as if he had a strong character, nor does he look as if he had the energy of the Emperor, which enabled him to go through so many hardships to gain his ends.
How sad it is! I am sure the Empress's only consolation is the thought that her son can recover the position the father lost.
We returned to Havana quite tired out with our little journey, and glad to rest in the quiet of our cool rooms, and I looked across the water, crowded with boats of every description, and gazed with delight at the distant mountains, with their clouds dragging themselves from one summit to the other.
How hot it is! I never thought that the sun, which is so high up, could pour down so; but it does pour down. I think it is hotter here than in Matanzas.
We shall be leaving here in a few days, and I suppose we shall find ice and snow in New York, and return to india-rubbers and umbrellas—things unknown here. During our absence some German men-of-war have arrived here, and stationed themselves right in front of our windows.
It must be their wash-day, for all the sailors' clothes are hanging out to dry.