(VERY) HIGH ART IN CUBA.
On the Ceiling--'Pintar-monos'--A Chemist's Shop _a la
Polychrome_--Sculpture under Difficulties--'Nothing like
Leather'--A Triumph in Triumphal Arches--Cuban Carpenters--The
Captain-General of Havana.
Our incarceration proves of professional service to us. It spreads our
renown and procures us more congenial patronage than we have hitherto
received. While I have been rusticating at La Socapa, my brother limner
has been busily employed on work in which he takes especial delight.
A rich marquis having just returned from a visit to Europe, is inspired
with the desire to decorate his new mansion, which has lately been
purchased by him, in what he calls a 'tasteful' fashion. For this
purpose all the decorative talent of the town is engaged. Nicasio is
also applied to, and undertakes to adorn the ceiling of the long
reception-room with four large oil paintings representing the seasons.
The marquis has not perfected his taste for the fine arts by his visit
to Europe, for he still persists in applying the vulgar term 'mono,' or
monkey, to all paintings in which figures form the leading features, and
of classifying everything else under the general denomination of
'paisaje.' All artists are to him 'pintar-monos,' or painters of
monkeys, and when he summons my partner to arrange about the pictures
which he desires to have affixed to his ceiling, he points to the
octagonal spaces which these productions are destined to fill, and
observes:
'Quiero cuatro monos para tapar estos hoyos,' which is equivalent to
saying: I want four daubs (monkeys) to cover over those holes with.
Nicasio accordingly makes sundry small designs for the four 'monos,' in
which certain allegorical figures of ladies in scanty robes, and Cupids
without any apparel, are introduced. My partner's favourite
water-carriers, Regina and Mapi, together with Dona Mercedes'
well-formed baby Isabelica, serve as models for Spring, Summer and
Winter which when finished, are affixed to their respective 'hoyos' or
holes in the ceiling. The picture of Autumn, however, remains
uncompleted. The rich marquis discovers that the quality of the work far
exceeds his expectations and finding also that its value has increased
in proportion, he considers that this season, which happens to be the
last executed, should be 'thrown in,' or in other words included in the
price charged for the other three. In short, he declares that unless the
'pintar-monos' agrees to this arrangement, that he (the marquis) will
get another pintar-monos to complete the series. As Nicasio objects to
work gratis, our patron, true to his word, commissions a house decorator
to supply the missing season, and the result may be easily imagined!
The Cuban critics are, however, sufficiently intelligent to distinguish
between the good and the very bad; and thus while the local papers are
unanimous in their praises of Spring, Summer and Winter, they do not
hesitate to pronounce Autumn a failure and an 'unseasonable'
production.
The success which attends my companion's efforts, induces others to
embark in decorative enterprises, and among our patrons for this new
kind of work, is a 'botecario,' or chemist, who offers us a large amount
to paint and otherwise adorn his new shop in what he calls the
polychrome style.
We have the vaguest notions on that subject, but so have also the
chemist and the Cuban critics. We accordingly undertake the work, and
manufacture something in which the Pompeian, the Rafaelesque, the
Arabesque, and the French wall-paper equally participate. In the centre
of the ceiling is to be placed a large allegorical oil-painting,
representing a female figure of France in the act of crowning the bust
of the famous chemist Orfila. In the four angles of the ceiling are to
be painted portraits of the Spanish physician the Marquis of Joca, the
English chemist Faraday, the Italian anatomist Paganucci, and the French
chemist Velpeau. It takes exactly seven months to carry out our design,
in the execution whereof we are assisted by the native talent already
alluded to. Among our staff of operators are a couple of black
white-washers for the broad work, a master carpenter with his apprentice
for the carvings, and an indefatigable Chow-chow, or Chinaman, whom we
employ extensively for the elaborate pattern work. Our mulatto pupils
also help us in many ways.
The chief objects of attraction in this great undertaking are without a
doubt a pair of life-sized figures of two celebrated French chemists,
named Parmentier and Vauquelin, destined to stand in a conspicuous part
of the shop. As there are no sculptors in our town, it devolves as
usual upon the 'followers of the divine art of Apelles' to try their
hands at the art of Phidias. Confident of success, the chemist provides
us with a couple of plaster busts representing the French celebrities in
question, and bids us do our best. The fragments of drapery exhibited on
these gentlemen enable us to decide on the kind of costume which our
figures should wear; the one being indicative of a robe somewhat
clerical, and the other evincing without a doubt that the original
belonged to a period when knee-breeches and top-boots were much in
vogue. The resources of Cuba for the making of statues are limited, so
the material we employ is slight. We construct our figures upon the
principle on which paper masks are made, and by painting them afterwards
in imitation of marble, a very solid appearance may be obtained. I will
not describe the many difficulties which we encounter at every stage of
this process; but when the hollow effigies are complete and we have
fixed them to their painted wooden plinths, we are vain enough to
believe that we have produced as goodly a pair of sham statues as you
would see if you travelled from one extremity of Cuba to the other.
It is the night which precedes the opening of the chemist's shop, and we
have retired to our dormitories after having given a final coat of
marble colour to our pasteboard productions. I am about to tumble into
my hammock, when my progress is arrested by a strange sound which seems
to emanate from an adjoining chamber. I re-ignite my extinguished lamp,
and take a peep into the studio. Something is certainly moving in that
apartment. I summon my companion, who joins me, and we enter our
sanctum.
'Misericordia! One of the statues is alive,' I exclaim, horrified at
what appears to me a second edition of Frankenstein.
'Eppur si muove!' ejaculates Nicasio, quoting from another authority.
Monsieur Parmentier--he of the periwig and top-boots--is sinking
perceptibly, though gradually. We advance to save him, but alas! too
late; the illustrious Frenchman is already on his bended boots. The
wooden props which supported his hollow legs have given way, and his top
boots are now a shapeless mass. We pause for a moment to contemplate the
wreck before us, and immediately set about repairing the damage.
But how? A brilliant idea suggests itself.
In a corner of the studio stand the leather originals which have served
us as models for the extremities of the injured statue. These same boots
belong to an obliging shoemaker who has only lent them to us. But what
of that? The case is urgent, and this is no time to run after our friend
and bargain with him for his property.
To fill the boots with plaster of Paris; to humour them, while the
plaster is yet moist, into something which resembles the human leg
divine, is the work of a few moments. To fix them firmly to the wooden
plinth, and prop over them the incomplete torso by means of laths
cunningly concealed, occupies little more than an hour and a half. A
coat of thick white paint administered below, completes the operation,
and Parmentier is erect again, and apparently none the worse for his
disaster. One more layer of paint early next morning, and the statue is
faultless, and ready for being borne triumphantly from our studio to
its destination. There it is placed in its niche, and no one suspects
the mishap. Evening approaches, and with it come crowds of Cuban
dilettanti and others who have been invited. The ceremony of blessing
the new undertaking is solemnised according to custom by a priest, and
an assistant who sprinkles holy-water from a small hand-broom upon
everything and everybody, while a short prayer in Latin is chanted. Then
the guests proceed to examine the various embellishments of this
singular shop, pausing to refresh themselves from the sumptuous repast
which the chemist has provided for his guests and patrons in an
adjoining chamber.
The statues form a subject for wonder with everybody, and no one will
believe that they are constructed of other than solid material. Even the
credulous, who are permitted to tap one of Parmentier's boots as a
convincing test, cannot help sharing the popular delusion.
But our friend the shoemaker is not so easily deceived. From certain
signs, known only to himself, he recognises in the statue's painted
extremities his own appropriated goods. We swear him to secrecy, and
offer to pay him liberally for the loss he has sustained; and it pleases
him to discover that in the pursuit of the fine arts--and as regards
statue-making in the West Indies we echo the sentiment--there is nothing
like leather!
The chemist's shop is scarcely disposed of, when application is again
made to us for another important undertaking.
The Captain-General of Havana has signified his intention to honour our
town with a visit, and preparations for his reception must accordingly
be made. The good people of Cuba have not a superabundance of affection
for their distinguished chief: possibly because captains-general are not
as a rule all that their subjects might desire. But a visit from his
excellency is such an unusual event (for our captain-general is rarely
absent from his comfortable palace in the Havana) that the inhabitants
of Santiago determine to make at least holiday--if not to profit--out of
the occasion. The merchants and shopkeepers are especially interested in
exhibiting their loyalty; for in this manner they hope to obtain many
mercantile concessions. Certain little nefarious transactions connected
with the custom-house may through the captain-general's benevolence be
forgiven or ignored, while other matters, connected with the landing of
negroes, may also pass censorship. A number of petitions for various
local favours have been also prepared, and in short the inhabitants hope
to derive many advantages from the visit of their colonial King.
The merchants' contribution towards the festivities will be a public
ball in the theatre, and a grand triumphal arch, which they propose to
erect in the principal thoroughfare. But a triumphal arch, such as these
gentlemen contemplate, is not so easily obtained in Cuba. Los Senores
Bosch Brothers--who are appointed to direct this work--have, however, no
difficulty in providing architects qualified to undertake the
fabrication required. The followers of the divine art of Apelles no
doubt 'deal' in triumphal arches, and the 'job' is accordingly offered
to them.
Our experience in the manufacture of triumphal arches is not wide, but
our patrons are so very pressing, and their terms are, moreover, so
very liberal, that we are finally induced to embark in the enterprise.
A plan of the proposed structure having been drawn and submitted for
approval to Don Elijio, who is the head of the firm of Bosch Brothers,
our operations begin. The order of architecture which we adopt partakes
of the Norman and the early Gothic, with a 'dash,' so to speak, of the
Byzantine, to give it a cheerful aspect. It might remind the learned in
these matters of York Minster, Temple Bar, or a court in the Crystal
Palace; but the Senores Bosch Brothers--whose acquaintance with
architectural master-pieces is confined to the governor's palace of lath
and plaster, and the white-washed cathedral--are easily satisfied.
Our labours are conducted in the extensive store-room of Messrs. Bosch
Brothers, which, in order to facilitate our operations, is cleared of
its cumbersome contents. The arch is destined to stand in that part of
the street which divides the warehouse from the market-place. The latter
stands at an elevation of more than forty feet above the pavement, and
is reached by a wide flight of stone steps. It forms part of our plan to
connect our frail edifice with the market wall, and match its local
stone colour.
We have exactly a month for the completion of our task, and we make the
most of our time. Cart-loads of white wood, in planks and logs, arrive
at all hours of the day, together with yards upon yards of coarse
canvas, pounds of nails, colours in powder, huge earthenware pots and
size. In short, our requirements are akin to those of a scene painter.
Thrifty Don Elijio has periodical moments of panic; for it seems to him
that our demands for wood, paint, canvas and nails, are exorbitant, and
more than once he predicts the ruin of his speculation. The merchant
begins to regret that he did not persuade us to 'contract' for the whole
expense, instead of receiving a separate remuneration for our time and
labour. Sometimes he will endeavour to show that there is something
defective in our agreement.
'Look here!' says he. 'You are artists, and if I come to you to have my
portrait painted, I suppose you will not expect me to pay for your
colours and canvas?'
We have neither time nor ability to argue the point; but the man of many
bargains is easily convinced, when we hint about relinquishing our
labours!
Foiled in his effort to reduce expenses, the merchant tries to economise
in another way, by questioning the propriety of adopting certain little
contrivances which he cannot for the life of him follow in the original
plan.
'What are those hugh firework sort of wheels for?' he asks one day. 'I
don't see them in the drawing, and therefore consider them unnecessary.'
'Those wheels,' we explain, 'which you are pleased to compare with
fireworks, constitute the skeleton, or framework, of four turrets,
which, after having been concealed behind canvas, painted stone-colour,
and relieved with imitation port-holes, will be suspended from the
uppermost angles of the arch.'
'And where is that broad octagonal chimney to be placed?' inquires the
merchant.
'That "chimney,"' we reply, 'represents a Gothic temple, and is
destined to stand over the centre of the arch upon a graduated
pedestal.'
The wood-work of our fabric is put together by a number of black and
brown carpenters; but we have to superintend every part, as these
gentlemen have no notion whatever of architectural devices, and our
eloquence fails to convey to their intelligence our multifarious needs.
The readiest of our assistants is a young mulatto, nicknamed El Tuerto
by reason of a strong cast in his left eye. He is far more industrious
than his fellow-workmen, most of whom have a weakness for aguardiente,
and are consequently often in what my medical friend Doctor Acero terms,
'a state of vulgar excitement.' El Tuerto easily grasps at an idea, and
sometimes offers a useful suggestion or two. It is he who recommends to
our notice a friend of his who, he thinks, might be serviceable in the
painting department. The friend in question is a feeble old negro,
occasionally afflicted with delirium tremens. We try him with the 'line'
work, which consists in squaring off the imitation stones of the painted
masonry: but, his hand being too unsteady for this, we employ him for
the graining, which accords better with his peculiar 'touch,' as the
process requires certain nervous jerks of the wrist.
At length the day arrives when the stones of the street must be
uprooted, the tall scaffolding planted, and the innumerable pieces of
painted canvas which form the external covering of the arch, united and
raised to their respective places. When the fabric is complete, the
local papers, which have already noticed its progress from time to time,
thus describe its beauties:
'The triumphal arch erected in the Calle de la Marina by the merchants
and planters of Santiago, is the combined work of those illustrious
followers of the divine art of Apelles, Don Nicasio Rodriguez y Boldu
and El Caballero Ingles Don Gualterio. This imposing structure measures
forty-five feet in height, thirty feet in breadth, and nine feet in
depth. It is supposed to represent part of an old feudal castle with its
turrets, port-holes and belfry, and is painted in imitation of granite
stone, which forms a striking contrast with the intense blue of our
tropical sky, against which the arch stands in bold relief.
'On either side of the facade are painted colossal figures representing
Commerce, Industry, Agriculture and Justice. Above these allegories are
placed the escutcheons of our illustrious Captain-General, together with
the coats-of-arms belonging to Spain and to Santiago de Cuba. Near the
centre of the arch are recorded in bold and fanciful letters the various
triumphs of our distinguished general; such as the blockade of Zaragoza
in 1843, the glorious campaign in Portugal, 1847, the Italian
expedition, etc.
'Upon each of the four turrets are planted tall flag-staffs, from which
coloured streamers gracefully depend, and over the centre of the arch,
upon the summit of the pretty campanilla, waves majestically in the
breeze the imposing banner of Spanish commerce.
'From the palms of the arch is suspended a garland of natural
evergreens, in which is artistically entwined a broad red and
orange-coloured ribbon bearing the following inscription:
'"To His Excellency the Captain-General: from the Merchants and Planters
of Santiago de Cuba."'
His excellency arrives in due course, and is so thoroughly gratified
with his reception in Santiago, that upon his return to Havana he
reports favourably to his government upon the progress and prosperity of
our part of the 'Ever-faithful Isle.'