PAGE.
Vignette title page.
Moro castle, havana. 27
Peak of orizaba. 90
Castle of san juan de ulloa, vera cruz. 91
Indian man and woman. 117
Female head. 128
Colossal head. 130
The american sphinx. 132
Curiously ornamented head. 136
A situation. 139
A road side. 140
Sepulchral effigy. 145
A pair of vases. 150
Travelling by night. 161
Talismanic penates. 164
Fragments of idols. 178
Introductory remarks.—Departure from New Orleans.—Compagnons de voyage.—Their different objects.—Grumblers and grumbling.—Arrival at Havana.—Passports.—The Harbor.—The Fortifications.—The City.—Its streets and houses.—Anecdote of a sailor.—Society in Cuba.—The nobility.—"Sugar noblemen."—Different grades of Society.—Effects upon the stranger.—Charitable judgment invoked.—Hospitality of individuals.—General love of titles and show.—Festival celebration.—Neatness of the Habañeros.
Who, in these days of easy adventure, does not make a voyage, encounter the perils of the boisterous ocean, gaze with rapture upon its illimitable expanse, make verses upon its deep, unfathomable blue—if perchance the Muse condescends to bear him company—plant his foot on a foreign shore, scrutinize the various objects which are there presented to his view, moralize upon them all, contemplate nations in their past, present and future existence, swell with wonder at the largeness of his comprehension—and return, if haply he may, to his native land, to pour into the listening ears of friends and countrymen, the tale of his ups and downs, his philosophic gatherings, with undisguised complacency? Whose history does not present a chapter analogous to this? We might almost write one universal epitaph, and apply it to every individual who has flourished in the present century.—"He lived, travelled, wrote a book, and died."
And, seeing that in this auspicious age, when the public mind is alive
when it seems disposed to appreciate the toil of intellectual effort, by the deference which it pays, the obedience it yields, and the signal support which it gives, to the meritorious productions of the historian, the statesman and the scholar; when we behold the power of discrimination so strikingly developed in the fact, that men are infinitely more regaled with the simple, truthful narrative, than with the ponderous tome of fictitious events, however pleasing the fabrication is made to appear;—who, it may be asked, I care not whether he has washed his hands in the clouds, while tossed upon the summit of a troubled wave, or looked out upon the world, from Alps highest peak, or whether he has leaned over the side of an humble canoe, to disturb the tranquil waters of some placid stream, above the bosom of which, his modest aspirations will never suffer him to rise—who that has travelled, it matters not how, can do otherwise than exclaim, "Oh that my words were now written—Oh that they were printed in a book!"
Though not disposed to allow that no higher sentiment than this prevalent cacoethes scribendi has influenced me in the present attempt, I am, nevertheless, so thoroughly convinced of its epidemic prevalence at the present time, that I am resolved neither to wonder nor complain, if friends as well as foes, "gentle readers" as well as carping critics, should set it down as only and unquestionably a symptom. I shall retain my own opinion, however, albeit I do not express it; and, contenting, nay congratulating myself with being in good company, shall complacently set out upon another "ramble," and sit down to another book, whenever
or health, or business, drives me away from my quiet pursuits at home.
It is no slight gratification, it must be allowed, to be enabled, by so feeble an effort, to make all one's friends, as well as a portion of the great world unknown, compagnons de voyage in all our rambles—to bring them into such a magnetic communication with our souls, that they shall at once see with our eyes, and hear with our ears, and enjoy, without the toil and weariness of travel, all that is worthy of remembrance and record, in our various adventures by sea and land.
On the 20th of January, 1844, in company with sixty fellow passengers, I turned my back upon the crescent city, and embarked on board the Steam Ship Alabama, Captain Windle, bound from Now Orleans to Havana. Many of our number, like myself, were in pursuit of health and pleasure, some were braving the dangers and enduring the privations of the passage, for the purpose of amassing wealth in the sugar and coffee trade; and others were seeking, what they probably will never find this side the grave, a happier home than the one they were leaving behind them.
With a variety of humors, but for the most part with light hearts, we committed ourselves to the mercy of a kind Providence, a capricious element, and a competent and gentlemanly captain; and, setting aside such regrets as the sensitive mind cannot but indulge, in bidding adieu to the land of its birth, the companions of youth, and the faithful friends of after years, to visit distant and dangerous regions, to invite disease and brave death in many forms, we were probably as happy and merry a company as ever pursued their trackless path over the bounding deep. Our ship and its regulations were unexceptionable, our table was sumptuously spread, and the weather, all that the most fastidious invalid could desire.
To the above description of our company, I ought, perhaps, to make an exception in favor of a few professional grumblers from our fatherland. "Those John Bulls" of our company, ceased not their murmurings and repinings, until the recollection of imaginary wrongs, was swallowed up in the experience of real and substantial suffering, in the land of their glorious anticipations. But we must not marvel at, or find fault with, the redeeming trait of British character. It has long been universally admitted that John Bull is a grumbler. Whether it is a "streak in the blood," a universal family characteristic, or a matter of national education, I know not; but it certainly belongs to the species, as truly and distinctively as a light heart and a gay deportment do, to their neighbors on the other side of the channel. It matters not whether you speak of the King or the Queen, the Royal Patronage or the doings of Parliament, of England, or France, or the moon, he is always ready with a loud and argumentative complaint, drawn from his own experience. If you sympathize with him, well; if not, his indifference to your regard will certainly match your stoicism. Talk to him about Church affairs; and, in all probability, he will find a "true bill" against every Ecclesiastical officer, from his Grace down to the humblest subordinate. Still, if it be a redeeming trait, why should we not respect it as such? True, it does not sound well, to hear one speak in terms of approbation respecting a grumbler. But surely, it must be simply because we are not accustomed to view this character in its proper light. A popular English writer observes, that "it is probably this harsh and stubborn but honest propensity, which forms the bulwark of British grandeur abroad, and of British freedom at home. In short, it is this, more than any thing else, which has contributed to make, and still contributes to keep England what it is." No—it will never answer to make war upon a character like that of Bull. We may occasionally introduce him to the reader, but it shall be with a just appreciation of his imprint, and a profound regard for his material substance.
After sixty hours delightful sail, we passed the celebrated castle of the Moro, and entered the harbor of Havana. Contrary to our expectations, we were permitted to land with but little delay or inconvenience, except that which arose from "Elnorte," or a dry norther, which was blowing when we arrived, and rendered our landing a little uncomfortable. The thermometer stood at 70°, and the "natives" were shivering under the severity of the cold!
The traveller, visiting this Island, should furnish himself with a passport, issued or verified by the Spanish Consul, at the port from which he embarks. When furnished with this ihdispensable credential, if he pay a strict regard to the laws of the island, little difficulty is to be apprehended; but, neglecting this, he will be subject to fines and the most vexatious delays; and, probably, he will be prevented from landing. Strangers proceeding into the interior, for a period not exceeding four months, must also be prepared with a license from the Governor to that effect, countersigned by the Consul of the nation to which he belongs. This requisition is undoubtedly made upon the unsuspecting traveller, in consequence of impositions practiced by foreigners, during the recent difficulties which have taken place in Cuba. Thus will undisguising honesty ever suffer in the faults of a common humanity.
The harbor of Havana is one of the best in the world. The entrance into it is by a narrow channel, admitting only one vessel at a time, while its capacious basin within, is capable of containing more than a thousand ships. The view of the harbor, as you approach it from without, with its forest of masts, and the antique looking buildings and towers of the city, contrasting powerfully with the luxuriant verdure of the hills in the back-ground, is scarcely second to any in the world, in panoramic beauty and effect; while the view sea-ward, after you enter the sheltered bay, the waters of the Gulf Stream lashing the very posts of the narrow gateway by which you came in, presents one of those bold and striking contrasts, which the eye can take in, and the mind appreciate, but which no pencil can pourtray, no pen describe.
MORO CASTLE.The celebrated Moro, resting upon its craggy eminence, frowns over the narrow inlet. The Cabañas crowning every summit of the hills opposite the city, is a continuous range of fortifications of great extent, from whose outer parapet, elevated at least a hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea, a most commanding view of the city and its beautiful environs is obtained. These fortifications are said to have cost forty millions of dollars. Within a mile on the opposite shore from the Moro, is still another fortress, so situated upon a considerable height, that its batteries could easily sweep the whole space between. Looking down from these frowning battlements upon the busy scene below, I was struck with the variety of flags, from almost every nation under heaven, blending their various hues and curious devices, amid the thick forest of masts that lay at my feet. But of all the gay and flaunting streamers that waved proudly in the morning breeze, the stripes and stars, the ensign of freedom, the pride of my own green forest land, appeared always most conspicuous.
The city of Havana stands on a plain, on the west side of the harbor, but is gradually, with its continually increasing population, stretching itself up into the bosom of the beautifully verdant hills by which it is surrounded. Its general appearance is that of a provincial capital of Spain. There is an air of antiquity about this, and the cities of Mexico, which has no similitude in the United States. The streets, which are straight and at right angles to each other, are McAdamized, and, in good weather, are remarkably clean; but, during the rainy season, they become almost impassable. They are also very narrow, and without any side walks for the foot passenger. The houses, many of which are one story high, with flat roofs, have a general air of neatness, and comfort. They are usually either white or yellow washed. Many of them are of the old Moorish style of architecture, dark and sombre, as the ages to which it traces back its origin. The doors and windows reach from the ceiling to the floor, and would give an airy and agreeable aspect to the buildings, were it not for their massive walls, and the iron gratings to the windows, which remind one too strongly of the prison's gloom. It is here, however, that the females enjoy the luxury of the air, and display their charms. They are never seen walking in the streets. Those who cannot afford the expense of a volante, arraying themselves with the same care as they would for a promenade, or a party, may be seen daily peering through their grated windows upon the passers by, and holding familiar conversation with their friends and acquaintances in the streets. Many a bright lustrous eye, and fairy-like foot, have I thus seen through the wires of her cheerful cage, which were scarcely ever seen beyond it.
A characteristic anecdote is related of an American sailor, who saw several ladies looking out upon the street, through their grated parlor windows. Supposing them to be prisoners, and sympathizing with their forlorn condition, he told them to keep up a good heart—and then, after observing that he had been in limbo himself, he threw them a dollar, to the great amusement of the spectators, who understood the position of the inmates.
But notwithstanding the gloomy appearance of the windows, the houses are well ventilated by interior courts, which permit a free circulation of air—a commodity which is very desirable in these latitudes. The floors are of flat stone or brick, the walls stuccoed or painted—and the traveller, judging from the external appearance, is led to imagine that within, every desirable accommodation may be obtained. In this, however, he is disappointed, and must content himself with some privations. Huge door-ways and windows, a spacious saloon, together with solidity of construction, are the chief objects to which the architect in this country seems to direct his attention. The main entrance answers the purpose of a coach-house; and it is no uncommon thing to see the volantes occupying a very considerable portion of the parlor. The amount demanded for rent, in proportion to similar accommodations in other cities, is exorbitant. The present population of the city and its suburbs, is about 185,000.
Society in Havana—and it is the same throughout the island—is a singular anomaly to the stranger. It is neither that of the city, nor that of the country alone—neither national, oecumenical, nor provincial, nor a mixture of all. There are three distinct classes of what may be termed respectable society—the Spanish, the creole, and the foreigner. Among the former, with here and there an individual of the second grade, there are some who have purchased titles of nobility, at prices varying from thirty to fifty thousand dollars. They are often distinguished by the ludicrous sobriquet of "sugar noblemen," most of them having acquired their titles from the proceeds of their sugar plantations. Besides these, there are some few who have obtained the coveted distinction, as a reward for military services. Though more honorably obtained, the title is of less value to such, as they rarely have the means to support the style, which usually accompanies the rank. There are some sixty or seventy persons in the island, thus distinguished, who cannot, as a matter of course, condescend to associate in common, with the untitled grades below them. Neither do they maintain any social relations among themselves. The proud Spaniard despises the creole, and, titled or plebeian, will have nothing to do with him, beyond the necessary courtesies of business. Then the "nobleman," who has worn his dearly bought honors twenty years, esteems it quite beneath his dignity to exchange civilities with those novi homines, who are but ten years removed from the vulgar atmosphere of common life;—while he, in his turn, is quite too green to stand on a par with those, whose ancestors, for two or three generations back, have been known to fame.
The same impassable distinctions exist among the plebeian grades of society. The Spaniard hates the foreign resident, and will have no intercourse with him, except so far as his interest, in the ordinary transactions of business, requires. He despises the creole, who, in his turn, hates the Spaniard, and is jealous of the foreigner. The result of this position of these antagonist elements of society is, that there is no such thing as general social intercourse among the inhabitants of Cuba, and scarcely any chance at all for the stranger, to be introduced to any society but that of the foreign residents. As these are from almost all nations, the range, for any particular one, is necessarily small.
This being the case, with the constitution of society in Cuba, it would be extremely difficult for a temporary sojourner correctly to delineate the character of its inhabitants, perhaps, even unfair to attempt it. He can never see them, as they see each other. He can rarely learn, from his personal observation, any thing of society, as a whole, though he may often have favorable opportunities of becoming favorably acquainted with individual families. And here, two remarks seem to me to be demanded, before leaving this subject. First, that in all cases where such marked distinctions, and deeply rooted jealousies exist between the different sections of society, the open slanders and covert insinuations of the one against the other, should be received with the most liberal allowances for prejudice. Envy and contempt are, by their very natures, evil-eyed, uncharitable, and arrant liars. They see through a distorted medium. They judge with one ear always closed. And he who receives their decisions as law will generally abuse his own common sense and good nature, by condemning the innocent unheard. Secondly, if the society which Cuba might enjoy may be judged of by the known urbanity and hospitality of individuals, it might become, by the breaking down of these artificial barriers, the very paradise of patriarchal life. I know of nothing in the world to compare with the free, open-handed, whole-souled hospitality which the merchant, or planter, of whatever grade, lavishes upon those, who are commended to his regard by a respectable introduction from abroad. With such a passport, he is no longer a stranger, but a brother, and it is the fault of his own heart if he is not as much at home in the family, and on the estate of his friend, as if it were his own. There is nothing forced, nothing constrained in all this. It is evidently natural, hearty, and sincere, and you cannot partake of it, without feeling, however modest you may be, that you are conferring, rather than receiving a favor. This remark may be applied, with almost equal force, to many of the planters in our Southern states, and in the other West India Islands. Many and many are the invalid wanderers from home, who have known and felt it, like gleams of sunshine in their weary pilgrimage, whose hearts will gratefully respond to all that I have said. What a pity then, that such noble elements should always remain in antagonism to each other, instead of amalgamating into one harmonious confraternity, mutually blessing and being blessed, in all the sweet humanizing interchanges of social life.
Much as the inferior grades of society envy and dislike those above them, they all display the same love of show, the same passion for titles, trappings, and badges of honor, whether civil or military, whenever they come within their reach. And when attained, either temporarily or permanently, their fortunate possessors do not fail to look down on those beneath them, with the same supercilious pride and self gratulation, which they so recently condemned in others. I saw some striking, and to me, exceedingly ludicrous developments of this trait of character, during the progress of a festival celebration, in honor of the day, when queen Isabel was declared of age, and all the military and civil powers swore allegiance to her Catholic Majesty. The ceremonies of this celebration were continued through three days. The Plaza, and the quarters of the military, were splendidly illuminated with variegated lamps, and the buildings, public and private, were hung with tapestry and paintings, interspersed with small brilliant lights. Business was entirely suspended, and the streets were thronged with gay excited multitudes, arrayed with every species of finery, and decked with every ornament of distinction, which their circumstances, or position in society, would allow. Reviews of troops, and sham fights on land and sea, in which the Governor, and all the high dignitaries of the island, took part, occupied a portion of the time, the remainder being filled up with balls, masquerades, and a round of other amusements.
I do not know that it has been remarked by any other writer, but I observed it so often as to satisfy myself that it was a general characteristic of the better classes of the Habañeros, that they have a singular antipathy to water. After a shower of rain, they are seldom seen in the streets, except in their volantes, till they have had time to become perfectly dry. When necessity compels them to appear, they walk with the peculiar circumspection of a cat, picking their way with a care and timidity that often seems highly ludicrous. They are neat and cleanly in their persons, almost to a fault, and it is the fear of contracting the slightest soil upon their dress, that induces this scrupulous nicety in "taking heed to their steps."
The Tacon Theatre.—The Fish Market.—Its Proprietor.—The Cathedral.—Its adornments.—View of Romanism.—Infidelity.—The Tomb of Columbus.—The Inscription.—Reflections suggested by it.—The Removal of his Remains.—Mr. Irving's eloquent reflections.—A misplaced Monument.—Plaza de Armas.
Among the public buildings in Havana, there are many worthy of a particular description. Passing over the Governor's House, the Intendencia, the Lunatic Asylum, Hospitals, etc., to which I had not time to give a personal inspection, I shall notice only the Tacon Theatre, the Fish Market, and the Cathedral.
The Tacon Theatre is a splendid edifice, and is said to be capable of containing four or five thousand spectators. It has even been stated, that, at the recent masquerade ball given there, no less than seven thousand were assembled within its walls. This building was erected by an individual, at an expense of two hundred thousand dollars. It contains three tiers of boxes, two galleries, and a pit, besides saloons, coffee-rooms, offices, etc., etc. A trellis of gilded iron, by which the boxes are balustraded, imparts to the house an unusually gay and airy appearance. The pit is arranged with seats resembling arm-chairs, neatly covered, and comfortably cushioned. The Habañeros are a theatre-going people, and bestow a liberal patronage upon any company that is worthy of it.
The Fish Market is an object of no little interest in Havana, not only for the rich variety of beautiful fishes that usually decorate its long marble table, but for the place itself, and its history. It was built during the administration of Tacon, by a Mr. Marti, who, for a service rendered the government, in detecting a gang of smugglers, with whom it has been suspected he was too well acquainted, was permitted to monopolize the sale of fish in the city for twenty years. Having the prices at his own control, he has made an exceedingly profitable business of it, and is now one of the rich men of the island. He is the sole proprietor of the Tacon Theatre, which is one of the largest in the world, and which has also the privilege of a twenty years monopoly, without competition from any rival establishment.
The Fish Market is one hundred and fifty feet in length, with one marble table extending from end to end, the roof supported by a series of arches, resting upon plain pillars. It is open on one side to the street, and on the other to the harbor. It is consequently well ventilated and airy. It is the neatest and most inviting establishment of the kind that I have ever seen in any country; and no person should visit Havana, without paying his respects to it.
The Cathedral is a massive building, constructed in the ecclesiastical style of the fifteenth century. It is situated in the oldest and least populous part of the city, near the Fish Market, and toward the entrance of the port. It is a gloomy, heavy looking pile, with little pretensions to architectural taste and beauty, in its exterior, though the interior is considered very beautiful. It is built of the common coral rock of that neighborhood, which is soft and easily worked, when first quarried, but becomes hard by exposure to the atmosphere. It is of a yellowish white color, and somewhat smooth when laid up, but assumes in time a dark, dingy hue, and undergoes a slight disintegration on its surface, which gives it the appearance of premature age and decay.
In the interior, two ranges of massive columns support the ceiling, which is high, and decorated with many colors in arabesque, with figures in fresco. The sides are filled, as is usual in Roman Catholic churches, with the shrines of various Saints, among which, that of St. Christoval, the patron of the city, is conspicuous. The paintings are numerous; and some of them, the works of no ungifted pencils, are well worthy of a second look.
The shrines display less of gilding and glitter than is usual in other places. They are all of one style of architecture, simple and unpretending; and the effect of the whole is decidedly pleasing, if not imposing. This effect is somewhat heightened by the dim, uncertain light which pervades the building. The windows are small and high up towards the ceiling, and cannot admit the broad glare of day, to disturb the solemn and gloomy grandeur of the place of prayer.
It has been observed by residents as well as by strangers, that the attendance on the masses and other ceremonies of the Roman church, has greatly diminished within a few late years. I have often seen nearly as many officiating priests, as worshippers, at matins and vespers. They are attended, as in all other places, chiefly by women, and not, as the romances of the olden time would have us suppose it once was, by the young, the beautiful, the warm-hearted and enthusiastic, but by the old and ugly, so that a looker-on might be led to imagine that the holy place was only a dernier resort, and refuge for those, for whom the world had lost its charms. That there were some exceptions, however, to this remark, my memory and my heart must bear witness—some, whose graceful, voluptuous figures, bent down before their shrines, their beaming faces and keen black eyes scarce hidden by their mantillas, might have furnished a more stoical heart than mine with a very plausible excuse for paying homage to them, rather than to the saints, before whose shrines they were kneeling.
In the various religious orders of this church, there has been a corresponding diminution of numbers and zeal. The convents of friars, in Havana, have been much reduced, and but few young men are found, who are disposed to join them; so that, in another generation, they may become quite extinct, unless their numbers are replenished from the mother country. The Government has taken possession of their buildings, and converted them to other uses, and pensioned off their inmates, allowing a premium to those who would quit the monastic life, and engage in secular business.
Among the people, infidelity seems to have taken the place of the old superstition. Their holy-days are still kept up, because they love the excitement and revelry, to which they have been accustomed. Their frequent recurrence is a great annoyance to those who have business at the Custom House, and other public offices, while they add nothing to the religious or moral aspect of the place. Sunday is distinguished from the other days of the week, only by the increase of revelry, cock-fighting, gambling, and every other species of unholy employment. These are certainly no improvement upon the customs of other days, for blind superstition is better than profaneness, and ignorance than open vice. But, in one respect, the protestant sojourner in Havana may feel and acknowledge that times have changed for the better, since he is not liable now, as formerly, to be knocked down in the street, or imprisoned, for refusing to kneel in the dirt, when "the host" was passing.
In this Cathedral, on the right side of the great altar, is "The Tomb of Columbus." A small recess made in the wall to receive the bones, is covered with a marble tablet about three feet in length. Upon the face of this is sculptured, in bold relief, the portrait of the great discoverer, with his right hand resting upon a globe. Under the portrait, various naval implements are represented, with the following inscription in Spanish.