STREET SIGHTS AND SOUNDS--EVENINGS IN THE CITY--SHOPS AND
SHOPPING--BEGGARS--VACCINATION.
The new, unfamiliar, and ever-varying street sights were an unfailing
source of entertainment. The bulk of commercial business is transacted
in the early morning. Clattering _volantes_, carrying merchants and
bankers from princely homes around us to city offices, were the
earliest sounds. Then followed a succession of peripatetic venders all
day long. The milkman, with one poor little cow and straggling, muzzled
calf, was our first visitor. In response to his shrill call, “_Lêché_,”
Martha ran out and watched the dexterity in milking so as to overflow
the cup with foam that subsided long before he turned the corner,
revealing very little milk for a _real_.
The vegetable, fruit, and poultry men, with various jingling
harness-bells, discordant cries or whistles, seemed to pass in an
endless procession, with long lines of heavily laded ponies, the head
of each tied to the closely plaited tail of its leader, the foremost
one mounted by a _guajiro_ (native peasant), his shirt worn outside
the pantaloons, and belt ornamented with a broad knife. Poultry,
generally tied by the feet in great bunches and thrown across the
pony’s back, or attached to various parts of the saddle, dangled in
a distressing condition until a purchaser was found; when released,
it was often hours before they could stand. Sometimes the ponies were
laded with _meloja_--young stalks of green corn, that had been sown
broadcast--and one only saw great heaps of green, with the tips of
the ears, switch of the tail, and stumbling feet of the weary animal
visible. The water of the city, conducted from house to house in
pipes, was so foul that even the poorest families denied themselves
other necessaries to afford drinking-water brought from the springs
at Marianao, nine miles distant, and carted in ten-gallon kegs all
over the city. We paid a doubloon ($4.25) a month for it, delivered
to us tri-weekly in those kegs. About noon, _dulceros_, with tinkling
triangles or shrill calls, that always attracted children and servants,
passed with large trays deftly poised on their heads, bearing little
bowls and cups of freshly made sweetmeats, preserved guavas and
mammees, grated cocoanut stewed in sugar, and a very delicious custard
made with cocoanut-milk, besides various other fruit-preparations.
Families daily supplied themselves with dessert from these _dulceros_,
who walked the streets with their wares exposed, oblivious of sun or
dust.
_Volantes_ were generally kept inside the houses, and the horses
stabled next to the kitchen. I have dined in elegant houses in Havana
where as many as four vehicles were ranged against the dining-room
walls, and the noise of stamping hoofs could be distinctly heard. In
the cool of the evening, _volantes_ and victorias sallied out of the
houses. The fair occupants in full evening costume, already seated,
their trailing robes, of brilliant colors and light, gauzy material,
arranged to float outside the open vehicles, with shoulders and arms
bare, and raven locks crowned with flowers, among which were tiny
birds mounted on quivering wires, made a display of striking and
unusual elegance. The coachman in full livery, silver-laced jacket,
silver-buckled shoes, and immense spurs of the same metal, the horses
prancing under the weight and jingle of silver-mounted harness and
light chains, all proceeded in gay trot to join the endless procession
that made the _paseo_ in Havana the most animated and bewitching sight
imaginable in those affluent days of Cuba.
At night, doors and windows of houses were flung wide open, showing a
vista of rooms, from the brilliantly lighted _salon_ through bedroom
after bedroom, until the line of view vanished at the kitchen; bright
lamps swung from all the ceilings, even that of the veranda; and in
long rows of rocking-chairs, in never-ceasing motion, the _señoras_
gayly chatted and sipped ices; while idle strollers in the streets
paused to admire and audibly comment upon the elegant ladies or listen
to the light nothings that were being uttered with so much spirit and
gesture.
I never knew when the shops in Havana closed, nor when they opened
their doors, nor saw them with all the shutters up, even on
Sunday--except during the last three days of holy week, when business
of every nature is entirely suspended. Returning after midnight from
opera or ball, one found every store brilliantly lighted and thronged
with jostling crowds. In the hot days, two or three hours’ shopping
before breakfast was not unusual. The same men stood behind the
counters day and night, many in their shirt-sleeves and smoking; though
the most overworked human beings in existence, they always appeared
fresh, and were exceedingly amiable and accommodating, even to the
extent of leaving their own counters and accompanying strangers to
other stores to act as interpreters. The leading merchants had men in
their employ who spoke both French and English.
The Havana _señoras_ generally made purchases from samples sent to
their houses; if they visited the shops at all, it was after early
morning mass, or the evening drive on the _paseo_, when goods were
brought to the _volante_ for their inspection. They were quite as
critical as any other shoppers; so the obliging merchant often brought
to the narrow side-walk, where there was scarcely room for a person to
pass, roll after roll of elegant goods, and patiently waited while the
ladies with calm complacency examined them.
At Miro y Otero’s (our grocers) I often found the whole establishment
at breakfast. A long table was spread down the middle of the store,
the members of the firm and every employé, including the porters and
cartmen, were seated around the board; if a customer entered, some one
would rise, wait upon him, and then resume breakfast. There were no
dining-rooms or lunch-counters where business men and clerks “stepped
out” at meal-times. In offices, ware-rooms, banks, commercial houses,
and stores, meals were served to all employés. Numberless little
_bodegas_, and cheap, dirty shops were scattered about the purlieus
and back streets, where white and colored laborers side by side ate
fried fish or garlic stew, and drank _aguadiente_ (native rum) or red
wine. In some of the _bodegas_ of the lower order asses were kept tied
to the counter, to be milked on the spot, for invalids and people of
delicate digestion. The coffee served at these very _bodegas_ was rich
and delicious. Often after we moved to the country and visited Havana,
I fortified myself for the early start home on the train, at one of
these places, with a cup of coffee, “fit for the gods,” and a sovereign
preventive of headache so sure to follow three hours’ ride in a close
car filled with tobacco-smoke. Smoking is so universal that every car
is a “smoking-car.”
All Saturday the streets were thronged with beggars, many of them
dirty, diseased, deformed, and repulsive; a few, healthy in appearance
and handsomely attired, were followed by attendants carrying bags
to receive alms. They visited shops, and were invariably rewarded
with contributions mostly of small wares, a spool of thread or cheap
handkerchief. One mendicant, with his license conspicuously exposed
(all beggars in Havana are licensed), passed frequently up our street
ringing a small bell. Servants came out from the various houses, and,
by giving him a piece of money, had the privilege of kissing a blest
but dirty picture that hung on his breast. I was frequently surprised
by a call at my veranda-window, from an elegantly dressed lady, her
flowing train, of fine linen lawn, decorated with elaborately fluted
rufflings, and her stylishly dressed hair partly concealed by a scarf
of rich Spanish lace. I was utterly at a loss to understand a rapid
formula she repeated in a low, musical voice. To my perplexed look and
shake of the head, she always bowed and gracefully moved away--only to
return and repeat the performance the following week. Subsequently I
learned she was a licensed mendicant. Every Saturday--the only day they
were allowed to ply their calling--she was in the habit of leaving her
two nicely dressed little boys at the house of a count on the _cerro_,
and begging.
In the courts of many aristocratic and wealthy houses, food was
distributed in generous quantities to all who applied, and even
comfortable seats were provided for those who desired to rest while
they ate. This was generally done in fulfillment of a vow made to the
Virgin or a saint in time of distress. A lady living near us, when her
children were ill, made a vow to keep the _cerro_ church in perpetual
repair, if their lives were spared. It was the daintiest of little
churches, all pure white and gold inside, with an elaborate altar of
marble decorated with flowers and tall silver candlesticks, and a
noticeable absence of tawdry display and wretched daubs of pictures
which disfigure so many Catholic churches. Although the family was
subsequently exiled from Cuba for political reasons, and for years
resided in Paris, the vow made long before was religiously kept. Though
now restricted in means, their great wealth squandered and confiscated,
no doubt the church still receives their careful attention. I had a
fine opportunity to admire it.
Vaccination, like baptism, is compulsory in that much-governed country;
while the former, performed by surgeons appointed by the government for
that especial service, is absolutely gratuitous, the minimum pay for
the latter is two dollars, the church rendering no service without
an equivalent. The morning papers each day announced the church where
vaccination was to take place, as our journals furnish the weather
indications.
At the appointed day for the _cerro_ church, Martha and I presented our
baby at the vestry, where were already four little darky babies. The
surgeon was kind enough to quiet any anxiety I might have evinced by
announcing that he had _white_ virus and _black_ virus, and he never
got them mixed. Our addresses were registered, and we were told to
report the following week at same time and place. Martha and I, after
the operation, followed the colored party into the church, and as the
French express it, “assisted” in the baptism of the little Africans. I
was nervous about the _white_ virus and _black_ virus, and was greatly
relieved to find it did not “take”; but the next week the polite
official presented himself at our door. He was kind enough to believe
we did not appreciate the importance of vaccination, and when the
second application of the lancet proved successful, our little lady was
furnished with a formidable certificate necessary for admission into
any school in Cuba.