XVII.
IN HAVANA, CUBA.—DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY, ITS PEOPLE, CHURCHES AND CIVIL INSTITUTIONS.
On approaching the Isle of Cuba, the sight of this queen of the Antilles seemed like the realization of some beautiful Eastern dream. As our vessel neared the verdant, palm-clad hills, our party were caressed by warm, odorous breezes. The softest of blue skies looked down upon us, and we gazed on the smoothest and clearest of seas. No wonder that the brave and holy Columbus, with his crew, should feel transported with joy at the sight of the tropical isles on which they first set foot. The poetic effect of the scenes then viewed must have been greatly increased by the appearance of the native Indians, whose costumes and wild graces were so strange to European eyes.
Richly painted boats filled with gay, chattering Cubans moved briskly over the waters as we neared the entrance to the harbor. A beautiful picture now appeared before us. It seemed as if enchanted palaces, gardens, castles and towers had suddenly issued from the depths of the green, transparent waves. Nearly every building had a peculiarly exquisite tint, and all were flooded and enriched with the mellow, tropical sunlight. Fort Morro, to the left, beetled over the waves like some sombre and impregnable defence of the Middle Ages. Its golden-brown and colossal walls sprung like a master-piece of feudal art from the dark, wave-washed, slippery rocks below. The tall, slender light-house connected with it greatly added to its attractions. Soldiers in bright uniforms paced to and fro on the ramparts, while the flag of old Spain, with its mingled hues of blood and gold, floated proudly above the battlements. The harbor was narrow at the entrance and widened further on, appearing in shape like the palm of one's hand. I felt so dazzled with the splendors around me, that I could not grasp at once the beauties of individual objects.
Opposite Fort Morro stood El Castillo de La Punta, an older, but smaller defence erected by Philip II., in 1589. Immediately behind the Morro, Fort La Cahanas spread away for nearly half a mile on the top of a picturesque range of hills. This is one of the largest forts in the world, and cost (as I was informed) thirty million dollars. When the King of Spain heard of its vast price, he took his telescope at once, and told his courtiers that so expensive a building ought to be plainly seen from the top of his Madrid palace. White-stoned cottages lined the waters to the left, and decorated the slopes of the hills, which were full of cacti, century plants and thousands of other floral beauties. Everything around us reflected the poetry of color and motion. The great walls of the prison (el Carcel) appeared at the rear of the Punta, and the hoary, weather-stained walls and towers of the cathedral were conspicuous amid the many highly-colored houses of the city. The sight of this strange and picturesquely colored town made me feel like visiting the queer and lovely old Moorish cities of Spain, so charmingly described by Washington Irving.
Havana has two quarters, the intramural and the extramural; the former lies along the bay. It has the narrowest streets and the oldest buildings, dim, dusty, but poetic. The latter quarter spreads along the ocean, and has the newest structures and widest streets, adorned with palm and Indian laurel trees. The contrast from the moving ship appeared very fine, and the glowing panorama was enriched by the presence of stately men-of-war and merchant vessels from the United States, France, Spain, Italy and other nations. Every mast, spar, flag and rope was reflected on the dazzling waters. Through the vast collection of masts, golden vistas were seen up the bay. Lovely isles and emerald shores presented their wealth of waving palms, bananas, and tropical growths. The fact of the thermometer being up to eighty degrees on this February morning added immensely to the sense of enjoyment derived from these luxuriant scenes. The booming of cannon from the Morro, the sound of trumpets calling soldiers to their posts, and the whistling, laughing and shouting of boatmen contributed no little interest to the picture. Numerous boats sped here and there over the bay as our vessel anchored in the basin outside the custom-house. Each one had some lively Cuban boatmen and messengers from hotels, who came to row passengers to shore, and solicit patronage for particular houses. The whole scene presented a most animated picture, and the green, red, blue and yellow boats, with the white-dressed, broad-hatted, dark-eyed occupants looked uncommonly grand. When the health-officer came on board, each person was inspected as to his sanitary condition, and then left to excited crowds, who delivered their solicitations for patronage in excellent Spanish mixed with a little broken English. Cards, bearing pictures of "the Hotel de San Carlos," "El Teleprafo," "Hotel de Inglaterra," "de Europa," and others were tossed rather than handed to us by white-clad characters who thronged the decks. Among the smaller brown-faced, curly-headed boatmen were some lithe and powerful Cubans dressed in simple white shirt and pants, blue neck-ties and Panama hats. Having agreed with one of these to go from the vessel to the city at the rate of fifty cents apiece in gold, our party passed down the companion-ladder and entered a well-built bumboat, painted in green, blue and yellow, adorned with carpets, cushions, one sail and a gorgeous awning. The soft, tropical sun shone down on this poetical scene, and as the powerful arms of the oarsmen propelled the boat, the breezes played over us and the green waters.
On embarking at the custom-house, an unpretending wooden structure, our luggage was carefully overhauled by a courteous officer, attired in spotless, light-blue linen. Passing through the building I emerged on the street where crowds of negroes, Cuban and foreigners were engaged in smoking, chatting, and watching the newly-arrived travellers. Numerous coaches were drawn up in this neighborhood, and a person could visit any part of the city in one of them for a trifling sum. The Hotel de Europa, where I intended to stay, was only a few minutes' walk from the custom-house, and was delightfully situated on the Plaza de St. Francisco, facing the bay.
The first sight of Havana reveals to the United States visitor, who never saw a Spanish city, a style of architecture, habits and scenes entirely characteristic of Spain. The streets through which I passed were but wide enough for one vehicle; the sidewalks could only accommodate one foot passenger, and the houses, usually of one story, were built of stone as thick, solid and gloomy looking as fortresses. On my way I noticed that the windows had no glass, but were as large as doors, fortified within by iron bars like those of a prison, and additionally defended by heavy, wooden shutters generally painted green. The shops were on a level with the pavement, and their rich and rare collection of goods were all exposed to the view of the public. Awnings now and then extended overhead across the street. Now some darkies and Chinamen moved along bearing big burthens on their heads, and announcing their wares in loud tones in the Spanish language. These were followed by what appeared to me to be mysterious moving stalks of corn. As the latter came nearer, the heads and legs of donkeys were seen amidst the green mass. Then came a Cuban chicken vender from the country, with a great big hat and blue shirt, leading his mule by the reins, while the panniers on each side of the animal's back were filled with live fowl. Immense wagons, laden with hogsheads of sugar and molasses, rattled over the rough pavements as they were drawn by huge oxen, that were steered by stout ropes, which were cruelly passed through their nostrils. I was not a little surprised to see three or four cows walking silently on and stopping at the doors of the houses to be milked before the public. Customers need have no fears that any adulteration could take place on such occasions, as the liquid comes from the pure and natural fountain right before their eyes. Two old sailors, each minus an arm, were singing patriotic songs and the signors, signoras and signoritas who listened to them at the doors and balconies, seemed thrilled with delight, at the musical recital of the grand victories of old Spain. Peddlers moved along with an immense heap of miscellaneous wares fixed in boxes on the backs of their mules. Tall, stately negresses, with long, trailing dresses, of flashy green and yellow, walked along quite independently, as at Key West, smoking cigars which in New York would cost twenty-five cents a piece. One or two Cuban ladies hurried by, wearing satin slippers, silken dresses and mantillas of rich black lace. The Hotel de Europa, which I soon reached, is a large, plain, solid building adorned by a piazza, which runs along the second story, and by numerous little balconies higher up. It is a very well-managed institution, has an agreeable interpreter in its office, an excellent table, and on the hottest day a cool, refreshing breeze from the bay sweeps through the rooms. The office on the second story is reached by a large stone staircase. The house is built around a spacious courtyard, in the centre of which is a beautiful fountain, encircled by choice native flowers. The music of the fountain and the shade of the trees have a pleasing and cooling effect.
After securing my room I was shown to it by a bright-eyed, garrulous Cuban youth named "Josepho," who was well acquainted with his own, but lamentably ignorant of the English language. He tried to compensate for this drawback by a copious and intelligent use of gesture. Josepho soon led me to my room, which stood at the end of a corridor, that was flanked on one side by the courtyard, and on the other by sleeping apartments. Two great jars, of Pompeian style, stood on a side-board outside the door, and were full of cold water. These were for the use of the guests on the corridor. When I entered my room I found it had a floor of red and yellow tiles, immense, thick rough rafters overhead, painted blue and white, an iron bedstead, a great chest of drawers, no carpet, and shutters as heavy and ponderous as those of some old European prison. Yet everything was pleasant and cool. The view from the window of the bay, forts, shipping and houses was very beautiful, and, surely, I had keener apprehension of it than the lazy mulateers, whom I saw sleeping in their ox-carts below on the square, their red-blue caps and white jackets flooded in sunshine. The visitors to Cuba need not expect the luxury of a feather bed or a mattress. Neither was visible in my room. The couch consisted of a piece of canvas tightly spread over the iron frame, and strongly attached to it. A single sheet constituted the only covering, and the stranger will find that the pillow, filled with the moss of the island is not at all too soft. The nights are so pleasant that Cuban hotel keepers think this amount of bed furniture quite sufficient.
After a little rest, I decided that the famous Jesuit College, "De Belen," would be the first institution worth seeing. I went alone, and soon found it on the corner of Lutz and Compostilla Streets. A stranger cannot miss it, as it is one of the most formidable buildings in Havana. Though its style has something of the barbaric about it, yet it is chiefly so on account of its ruggedness, vastness and stern grandeur. It is built of stone, cemented and brown in color. The main arched entrance is very lofty, and on the steps as I passed by I noticed a gaunt, diseased and ragged negro, with outstretched arms soliciting alms. I rang the bell. A porter admitted me, and after asking for one of the priests in fair Spanish, I was conducted to a grand saloon up stairs and politely requested to await the arrival of Father Pinan who was conversant with English. The saloon was a magnificent apartment, about one hundred feet long by thirty wide. Its walls were adorned with splendid paintings done by ancient masters, and all represented dear, religious scenes. The lofty white pillars and the blue mouldings of the saloon produced a charming effect. Several rows of rocking-chairs, placed in pairs so that those occupying them would face one another and converse freely, were in this saloon, as is the custom in all others in Cuba. As I was admiring the pictures Father Pinan entered, and at once welcomed me very cordially to the college. The news, from the States interested him, and he promised to give me all the information he could regarding the college. "Ah," said he, "it is good to hear that there are so many good Catholics and converts in the United States. I do hope that they will persevere earnestly."