AT A CUBAN BALL.
The Philharmonic and its Members--A Street Audience--The
Guests--Engaging Partners--'La Carabina'--'La Danza Criolla'--Dance
Music--Refreshments--A Pretty Partner--A Night with Cuban
Gamblers--Spanish Cards--An Old Hand--'Temblores!'
The saloons of the Philharmonic are well suited for dancing as well as
for other purposes. The spacious apartments are entered by enormous
doors, and those which are set apart for the use of the dancers are
separated one from the other by narrow slips of wall. The heat,
generated by the gas, finds an easy egress through the open doors and
unglazed windows, and by these means the ventilation within is only
surpassed by the open air. A balcony--resembling part of a ship's
upper-deck--occupies the entire breadth of the building, and it affords
an excellent promenade and lounge in the intervals of dancing. The
street is crowded with a mixed audience, composed of coloured people and
of whites in mourning, for whose accommodation chairs of all kinds are
brought from their houses in the neighbourhood. The interior of the
Philharmonic is perfectly visible to these spectators of the pavement,
who, consequently, watch the proceedings within, as they would watch an
entertainment at the theatre.
The ladies of the ball are attired in simple muslin dresses of the
grenadine, the tarlatan, or the tulle kind; but no rule is observed with
regard to the cut or shape of their costume. She whom nature has endowed
with a comely figure, adopts the 'decolado,' or low-necked,
short-sleeved fashion, while her less favoured sisters prefer to conceal
their charms behind spotted lace or tulle. In short, the frequenters of
such a ball as that to which I refer are licensed to dress as becomingly
as they please, and only on rare occasions, such as a ball at the
theatre, at the governor's house, or at the mansion of some equally
distinguished person, are the strict rules of French etiquette observed.
The senoritas and their escorts are received in an ante-chamber by nine
of the oldest members of the society, who conduct the ladies to the
dressing-room of the establishment, where a few mulatto girls are in
attendance. Their toilettes being complete, it is considered 'the
correct thing' for one of these nine deputies of the Philharmonic to
offer to escort the lady dancers to the 'salon de bal;' and afterwards
to conduct the non-dancers to a locality set apart for the 'old people,'
for people in a state of mourning, and for those ladies whose lovers do
not approve of their dancing.
The male dancers--the majority of whom are pale-faced gentlemen with
black mustachios, imperials, and cropped hair--appear in ordinary
walking costume, consisting of black frock coats, black or white vests,
and white trousers, and neither they nor their fair partners include
gloves in their toilettes. Fans are used irrespective of sex, as a
creole gentleman considers that such commodities are as indispensable to
him as they are to his lady.
As most of the guests have already secured partners at the Retreta and
elsewhere, and as at all respectable gatherings in Cuba everybody is
supposed to know everybody else, the irksome formalities of introduction
are altogether dispensed with.
'Me hara usted el obsequio de cederme esta danza?' is in Spanish the
politest form for asking a lady 'if you may have the pleasure of dancing
with her.' But should you be on intimate terms with her, you may inform
yourself whether she is willing to 'take a little turn with you,' by
making the inquiry:--
'Quiere usted que demos una vueltecita?'
If the lady is 'sorry to say that she is engaged,' her answer will be,
'Lo siento; estoy comprometida.' If, on the contrary, she 'will have
much pleasure,' she replies, 'Con mucho gusto.'
It is not unusual for a gentleman who is not dancing to _borrow_ another
gentleman's partner for a 'carabina,' or round or two; for which purpose
the aspirant for that privilege has only to approach the dancing couple,
and in his politest tone say--addressing his remarks indirectly to
both:--
'Will the senorita be good enough to consent, with you, to my taking a
turn with her?' or, as it is better expressed in Spanish, 'La senorita
sera bastante amable para que con usted consiente el darme una
carabina?'
Sometimes when the aspirant is very intimate with the couple, he
observes simply: 'Chico; una carabina?' (A turn, old fellow?) and
without waiting for a reply, seizes his friend's partner round the waist
and waltzes her away.
Occasionally the carabina is taken without asking; but this is done only
by certain pollos who are vain enough to believe that they confer an
honour upon the ladies of their preference by confining their evening's
gyrations to carabinas. These attentions, however, sometimes involve the
pollo in a quarrel with the lady's partner, as happened once with a
certain Acha--a Spanish officer from Guantanamo--who fought a duel for
the sake of a carabina which he had danced illicitly with a famous
creole beauty called La Nena.
It frequently happens that the much-desired carabina is graciously
conceded to an unfortunate pollito, or very young gentleman, who has
been unable to secure a partner. Tunicu often avails himself of a
pollito when he happens to be afflicted with an uncongenial partner, or
one whose manner of dancing does not satisfy him!
The famous 'danza criolla' is the favourite dance of the evening:
indeed, with the exception of a vagrant polka and a mazurka or two, this
dance occupies the entire programme.
The danza criolla requires great practice before it can be successfully
accomplished; but no amount of private tuition will help the novice to
acquire the approved step. The best school for the study and pursuit of
the art is a mulatto ball, or such a ball as the Philharmonic society
gives on every Palm Sunday at seven in the morning. There is a very
mixed attendance at the last-mentioned ball, as the members usually
invite their 'guariminicas,' or companions of the carnival. A Cuban
pollo has generally three ladies to whom he is devoted. The first of
these is represented by the senorita whom he is destined to marry one of
these days, but with whom he may not be seen alone. The second lady of
his choice is the afore-mentioned 'guariminica querida,' who accompanies
him about town when any fiesta is held; and the third is the mulatto
beauty, whom he serenades and presents with various gifts in token of
his admiration for her charms.
The step of la danza is distantly related to a slow valse; but being
accompanied by certain graceful movements of the limbs--vulgarly termed,
in creole vernacular, 'la sopimpa'--the excitement is far greater than
it is with the fastest 'trois temps' on record. So great indeed, that
after every other 'round' the couples pause and perform a kind of
lady's-chain in quadrille groups of six or eight. Each dancer gives his
or her favourite version of this remarkable step. Some appear to glide
around as if propelled on wheels; while others define the step by hops,
backward skips and short turns, now to the right, now the left; but all
preserve the same graceful movements of the body.
The pleasures of the dance are greatly enhanced by the quality of the
music, which is more or less inspiriting according to the air selected.
Among the best Cuban dance music are the Cocuye, the Chupadera, the
Calabazon, the Sopimpa, the Mulata, the Pollita Americana, Merenguito,
Lunarcitos, Al Mediodia, and 'a las Bellas Cubanas.' The clarionet takes
the lead in the band of black musicians, and the gueiro and tambours
serve to mark the peculiar chopping compass which is the leading feature
of the creole dance. The gueiro proper is an instrument made from the
hard fruit whence it derives its name. The gueiro of society is, however,
manufactured out of tin, and shaped like a broad tube rounded at one end
to a fine point To one side is attached a handle; the other side is
furnished with notches or transverse ridges, which being rapidly scraped
by a piece of thick wire, a hollow, grating sound is produced. The
monotony of this sound is varied on the tambours, and neither of those
instruments is used when the dancers pause for the lady's-chain.
It is not unusual for an enthusiastic dancer to present the leader of
the band with a piece of money, as an inducement for the latter to
prolong the dance, and as a graceful tribute to his partner's dancing.
But this proceeding not being always approved of by the rest of the
dancers, a master of the ceremonies--called 'el bastonero'--is sometimes
appointed for the purpose of regulating the duration of the dances; but
as el bastonero is himself a dancer, he takes care to time the dances
according to his own requirements.
At an ordinary Philharmonic ball, such as that which I am describing,
the frequenters of the 'ambigu,' or refreshment room, must pay for what
they consume. This is a serious consideration with the pollo, for he is
expected to invite not only his partner, but also his partner's parents,
brothers, or chaperones, and sometimes a friend or two of the family!
The ambigu refreshment stall provides chiefly hams, lobsters, turkeys,
chickens, fried fish, escabeche (another variety of fish), tongue, and
other substantial viands; all of which are done full justice to by the
senorita's relatives and friends! The appetite of the young lady herself
is, however, more easily satisfied. A cup of thick chocolate with
'panatela' or pound cake, and an 'helado,' or ice is all that she
requires in the way of refreshment; unless, later in the evening, she
prefer a 'jigote,' which is a kind of thick soup made from boiled
chicken, minced fine, and flavoured with herbs.
Adjoining the ambigu is a small apartment, where gentlemen--and some of
the older ladies too--may enjoy a smoke while they sip their cafe and
cognac.
Of course Tunicu has a variety of partners, but Bimba being partial to
billiards, divides his time between the ballroom and the billiard-table.
Cachita--with whom I dance more than three times in the course of the
evening--makes a delightful partner, and when, after sundry experiments,
we are agreed upon the matter of step, I feel in the seventh heaven!
Cachita's manners and conversation are as agreeable as her dancing is,
and combine to impress me with the fancy that our acquaintance dates
from a more remote period than the present evening. Upon the strength of
my being an artist, she examines me on the subject of Cuban beauty, and
my replies are not unfavourable to Cachita and her countrywomen. In
turn, I interrogate her on the popular impression of foreigners, and
from her responses I gather that the people of nearly every country,
except Spain, hold a distinguished place in a Cuban's esteem. The palm
is, however, given to the Americans and English. Cachita has been early
taught to regard these nations with favour, and that to possess the
political and social advantages which English and Americans enjoy, is
the ambition of every right-minded Cuban.
But politics is dangerous ground to tread, especially when you are
discussing them with a beautiful young lady, who expresses so much
enthusiasm for your 'patria,' and who, moreover, tells you to your face
that your countrymen are 'simpaticos.' There is no telling what
conversation such topics might lead to, if Cachita's mamma, Dona Belen,
did not interrupt our tete-a-tete by coming to inform her daughter that
the ball is nearly over, and that it is time to depart.
No ball at the Philharmonic is said to have terminated until the members
of the society and their male friends have indulged in a little
gambling. So when the ladies and their escorts have departed, and the
gas in the ball rooms has been extinguished, old as well as young pollos
betake themselves to an apartment, where they pass the small hours of
the night in card-playing.
Curious to learn the mysteries of Cuban gambling, I accept Tunicu's
invitation to watch the proceedings, one night after such a ball as that
which I have described.
The chamber into which I am conducted is illumined in one part only,
where a group of gentlemen are seated or standing around a square table.
Having decided whether the game of the evening shall be 'monte,'
'tresillo,' or 'burro,' the dealer proceeds to shuffle the cards, which
he does in an elaborate manner, and afterwards grasps the pack firmly in
his left hand, taking care to conceal the bottom card. The dealer has a
partner who is seated on the opposite side of the table with a pile of
golden 'onzas' before him. These onzas, which represent the 'bank,' look
like medals about to be awarded as prizes for merit, for each coin is of
the size of a five-shilling piece, and is equal in value to seventeen
dollars, or three pounds eight shillings sterling.
Carefully extracting four cards from the top and bottom of the pack, and
after placing them, faces upwards, on the table, the dealer invites the
company to stake their money. Gold in onzas, half-onzas, four-dollar
pieces, and 'escudos,' or two dollars, is produced; but he who is
indisposed to risk more than a fractional part of his money at one time,
expresses his desire by concealing a portion of his coin beneath the
card of his selection. Thus an onza placed half-way under a card
signifies that the owner wishes to stake only half that coin, or eight
dollars and fifty cents. Similarly a fourth of the money being
exhibited, represents four dollars and twenty-five cents.
'Al juego, caballeros!' cries the dealer, and everybody accordingly
stakes his money. Satisfied that the four cards are not equalised, the
dealer, by a dexterous turn of the wrist, reverses the pack, by which
means the bottom card is exposed. If this card does not pair with one of
those on the table, other cards are slowly revealed, till one of the
four on the table has been 'casado' or paired. The nine of spades being
drawn, pairs with the nine of clubs on the table. The banker
consequently pays on this card, and receives on that which lies by its
side. The other two cards are similarly disposed of, and this, with a
few variations, constitutes the game.
With the exception of 'el rey' (the king) and 'la zota' (the knave), a
Spanish pack of cards differs considerably from the French or English
pack. There are no tens, to begin with, consequently the total number of
cards is forty-eight. The queen is also absent. Her majesty is,
however, represented by 'el caballo,' a figure of a knight on horseback.
Clubs (called 'bastos') are veritable clubs of the Hercules pattern; and
a spade is not a spade in this instance, but it is an 'espada,' or sword
of the approved shape. Each player has a favourite card, upon which he
invariably stakes his money whenever it is turned up in the course of
the game. Tunicu's 'winning' colour is 'el caballo' (horse and rider).
Bimba swears by the king, while his neighbour, Don Vicente, has a
partiality for the royal fives of every suit. These gentlemen are fond
of apostrophising the cards of their selection, as if to encourage the
pasteboard to win. Thus, Tunicu not unfrequently addresses his caballo
as a 'noble animal' or a 'trusty steed,' while Bimba speaks of 'el rey'
as a 'right royal gentleman' and a 'just sovereign.' But when, as it too
often happens, 'el caballo' proves faithless, and 'el rey' unprofitable,
their praises are no longer sung, but certain disrespectful adjectives
are applied to them. The Spanish language is rich in oaths, the mildest
of which are some of those expressions which begin with the syllable
'Car,' such, for example, as 'Caramba!' 'Carambola!' (the billiard
cannon), 'Caracoles!' (shells), and 'Caracolito!' (a small shell).
One of the greatest gamblers at the Philharmonic is Don Vicente. Tunicu
tells me, _sotto voce_, that the old gentleman has had a run of ill-luck
for the past fortnight, and that, having exhausted all his ready cash,
he is about to wager his 'quitrin' and horses. If the five of swords on
the table is not paired in the next draw, Don Vicente will lose his
equipage. The next 'turn up' being a king, and a king being opposed to
the five of swords, Don Vicente loses.
'Watch the old man now,' whispers Tunicu. I glance in the direction
indicated by my companion, and observe that the gambler's right hand,
which for some minutes past had been concealed beneath his shirt-front,
is drawn with violence across his breast.
'A habit of his when he loses an important amount,' remarks Tunicu under
his breath; 'the old fellow has torn his bare flesh.'
Except ourselves, no one present has paid the least regard to the
unfortunate gamester, for until the past fortnight Don Vicente had been
usually lucky.
While the dealer is in the act of shuffling a bran-new pack as a
preliminary to the fiftieth game to-night, the cards suddenly fall from
his fingers, and he, his partner, together with the rest of the company,
turn deadly pale and rush wildly to the broad balcony.
I follow them; though for the moment I am unable to account for this
strange diversion in the proceedings. In another instant, however, the
truth flashes across me. The apartment which we have deserted had, for a
few seconds only, oscillated as if a thousand ghosts were dancing in the
empty saloons adjoining, or as if a train were passing beneath the
floor.
From the balcony I observe that the dark streets are already crowded
with people, most of whom are scantily clothed in night attire. Some are
kneeling and praying aloud for Misericordia! others are shrieking and
invoking a variety of saints, and the greatest confusion prevails.
It was only a 'temblor,' or shock of earthquake, in its mildest form,
but it may be the precursor of a more serious disaster.
'Such a calamity,' says Tunicu, 'has happened ten years ago, when the
earth opened, and many buildings, including the cathedral, fell like
packs of cards to the ground. The inhabitants fled in terror from the
town and encamped for many days and nights in the neighbouring country,
where one is comparatively out of danger.'
Before daylight, another 'temblor,' or trembling of the earth, is felt,
but, like its predecessor, it is unattended with disastrous
consequences.