LOVE-MAKING IN THE TROPICS.
My Inamorata--Clandestine Courtship--A Love Scene--'Il Bacio' in
Cuba--The Course of True Love--A Stern Parent.
I am in love. The object of my affection is, I need scarcely explain,
the fair Cachita, who lives in the heart of sunny Santiago. She has the
blackest of bright eyes, a profusion of dark, frizzled hair, with
eyebrows and lashes to match. It is universally admitted that the
complexion of my inamorata is fair for a daughter of the tropics, but
truth compels me to state that in one sense Cachita is not so white as
she is painted. During the day she plasters her delicate skin with
'cascarilla:' a chalky composition of powdered egg-shell and rum. This
she applies without the least regard for effect, after the manner of
other Cuban ladies, who have a theory that whitewash is a protection
against the sun, and a check to unbecoming perspiration. Towards the
cool of the evening, however, my Cachita divests herself of her
calcareous mask, and appears in all her native bloom.
Since my return from Don Severiano's plantation, I have been a constant
visitor at the parental residence in town, and here, in due course, the
tender passion gradually developes itself.
For reasons presently to be explained, we occasionally meet at the
window of Cachita's boudoir, which is admirably adapted for purposes of
wooing, being wide, lofty, and within easy reach from the street. Like
other Cuban windows, it is guiltless of glass, but anything like
elopement from within, or burglary from without, is effectually provided
against by means of strong iron bars, placed wide enough apart, however,
to admit the arm and shoulder of a Pyramus on the pavement, or the
yielding face of a Thisbe on the other side. An open engagement in Cuba
has many disadvantages which an open-air engagement has not. Seated in
an uncongenial arm-chair, the conventional lover may enjoy the society
of his betrothed any hour of the day or evening, but he may not meet her
by gaslight alone, nor may he exhibit his passion in a demonstrative
manner, save in the presence of others. Warned by these objections,
Cachita and I have agreed to keep our own counsel, and court in this al
fresco way. Besides, it is the Cuban custom for a lady to sit before her
window, in the cool of the evening, and converse with a passing
acquaintance, without infringing the rules of propriety.
Cachita's parents are in the 'comedor' taking their early supper of
thick chocolate and new milk rolls. Dona Belen is a corpulent lady, with
a couple of last century side-curls, and a round, good-natured face. Don
Severiano is a short, shrivelled old gentleman, with a sallow
countenance, closely shaved like a priest's, and a collar and cravat of
the latest fashion. These worthy people are at present ignorant of their
daughter's attachment, and we have agreed not to enlighten them, because
their opinions respecting matrimony differ. Dona Belen is easily won if
a suitor to her daughter's hand can prove his genuine white origin,
while Don Severiano has an extreme partiality for gentlemen with coffee
plantations, sugar estates, or tobacco farms.
The Spanish language is an agreeable medium for expressing the tender
passion; creole Spanish is even more suited to such a purpose, being
full of endearing epithets and affectionate diminutives. I am not
obliged to address my lady-love by her simple name of Caridad; I may
call her Caridadcita, Cachita, Chuchu, Concha, Cachona, Conchita, or
Cachumbita, and be perfectly grammatical, and at the same time fond. The
same romantic language enables me to use such pretty epithets as 'Mi
mulatica' (my little mulatto girl), 'Mi Chinita' (my little Chinawoman),
'Mi negrita' (my pretty negress).
And if these endearing epithets are found insufficient to express my
affectionate regard, I have the option of addressing my beloved in such
terms as:
Prenda de mi alma! My soul's jewel!
Botoncito de rosa! Little rose-bud!
Lucero de la manana! Dawn of the day!
Luz de mi vida! Light of my life!
Ojitos de cocuyo! Little fire-fly eyes!
Consuelo mio! My own joy!
Mi merenguito! My little merengue!
Ojitos de pega-pega! Eyes that rivet!
Mi monona! My lovely one!
Mi tormento! My little torment!
Mi consolacion! My consolation!
Hija de mi alma! Child of my soul!
and a number of expressions as choice as those quoted above.
Our conversation is carried on in epigrammatic phrases. I need not waste
words by making the long-winded inquiry, 'Do you love me?' It is
sufficient to ask simply, 'Me quieres?' And when Cachita tells me, in
reply, that her love for me may be compared to her fondness for her
mother's precious bones ('Te quiero mas que a los huesitos de mi mama'),
and when, following suit, I assure my beloved that I value her as I do
the apple of mine eye ('como la nina de mis ojos'), I know well enough
that these are only figures of speech adopted by lovers in the Spanish
tropics.
'Mi corazoncito,' says Cachita, fondly, 'I fear that your visits here
must be suspended for the present.'
'Why so, mi vida?'
'Papacito (Don Severiano) suspects something. His friend, Senor Catasus,
who passes here every evening, has seen us converse at the window more
frequently than custom allows, and he has mentioned it to papacito.'
Old Catasus has a son whom Don Severiano employs, and I fancy that his
interest in Cachita's welfare is not purely disinterested.
'Young Amador is a frequent visitor at your father's house?'
'He comes with others in the evening sometimes.'
'He danced three times with you at the Pinata ball, and he walks with
you on Sunday evenings in the Plaza de Armas, when the military band
plays.'
'You are not jealous?'
'N--no; I am only afraid lest young Amador admires you too much.'
'What of that?'
'Don Catasus has a large coffee plantation, and you know what a
partiality your father has for sons of wealthy planters.'
'Are you angry?'
'No, I am not angry, mi tojosita.'
'Me quieres mucho?'
'Muchisimo, pichona mia. Deme un beso.'
'Before giving you one, you must promise two things.'
'What are they?'
'That you will not be jealous, and that you will go no more to the
Pica-pica balls.'
'I have been only once this season, mi vidita.'
'My black maid Gumersinda was there, and she says that you danced all
night with the mulattoes.'
'I was practising the difficult step of La Danza Criolla.'
'It is danced very improperly by the coloured people at the Pica-pica.'
'Many of my white acquaintances go to these balls, and I am only
following their custom and that of the country.'
'Promise not to go again this season.'
'I promise; so, deme un beso.'
Cachita inserts her soft face between the obliging bars of the huge
window, and as nobody is passing at that moment, I take an affectionate
leave of my 'Piedra.'
My interviews with Cachita at her window become rare on account of Don
Severiano's suspicions, and as Cuban ladies of all ages never leave
their homes to visit their next-door neighbour without a trusty escort,
I have no other opportunity for an uninterrupted tete-a-tete.
Occasionally I meet my fair one at early mass in one of the churches, or
at the musical promenade in the public square, but on these occasions
she is always accompanied by a friend or a relative, and a couple of
black attendants.
On the approach of Cachita's saint's day, Santa Caridad, I favour my
divinity with a little midnight music. Those of my friends whose
sweethearts are called Caridad, join me in hiring a few musicians and a
couple of vocalists. When our minstrels have performed their first
melody, the Sereno, or night-watchman, appears, and demands to see our
serenade licence, because, out of the carnival season, no serenading is
allowed without a special permit from the authorities. After duly
exhibiting our licence, the music proceeds, and when a song, composed
expressly for the lady we are serenading, has been sung, and a few more
danzas have been played, a shutter of the grated window is seen to open,
a white hand with a white handkerchief flutters approvingly between the
iron bars, and a significant flower is offered for the acceptance of him
whom it may most concern.
Tunicu takes a friendly interest in my affaire d'amour, and gives me the
benefit of his experience in such matters.
In the carnival season, and on certain fiestas, I visit my Caridad, in
company with a dozen Pollo friends, amongst whom are Tunicu and Bimba,
and we bring with us a full band of black musicians, bearing ordinary
stringed instruments. Our visit is paid in broad daylight, but we are
masked, and so disguised that paterfamilias cannot recognise his guests;
he is, however, satisfied as regards our respectability, when my good
friend Tunicu privately reveals his name. At the inspiring tones of La
Danza some lady neighbours flock to the scene, and follow us and our
swarthy instrumentalists into our host's reception-room, which is
entered direct from the street by a huge door. Then a dance is
extemporised. The fascinating step of La Danza Criolla lends itself to a
little secret love-making, and with a partner like the graceful Cachita
(to whom alone I disclose myself when my turn comes to visit her house),
I feel in the seventh heaven! But dancing at twelve o'clock in the day,
with a tropical sun blazing in at the windows and open doors, and a room
full of excited dancers, merits some more substantial reward, and in the
pauses of the danza, our hospitable host invites us into his spacious
comedor, where refreshments in the shape of champagne, English bottled
ale, cafe noir, and dulces, are lavishly dispensed.
Report, which in Cuba travels like a tornado, and distorts like a convex
mirror, poisons the mind of Cachita's parent, Don Severiano, and one
sultry afternoon, Cachita's black maid, Gumersinda, brings me a
billet-doux from her young mistress, which fills me with alarm. Don
Severiano knows all--more than all--and has resolved to separate us by
removing Cachita to one of his sugar estates, eight leagues from town.
For some weeks I hear nothing of her whereabouts, but at last one of Don
Severiano's black mule-drivers halts before my door. He tells me that
Cachita and her family are staying at La Intimidad, a sugar estate; and
after searching among his mule's complicated trappings, he produces a
missive from his young mistress. Absence has affected Cachita, as it
affects other ladies in love, and my fair creole expresses a desire to
see me. Don Severiano will be leaving the estate for town on a certain
day, and, if I am willing, a meeting may easily be effected. Saturnino,
the mule-driver, who is in the secret, undertakes to guide me to the
trysting-place. I accordingly obtain a fast-trotting steed, and follow
him through the intricate country, which, after many hours' riding,
brings us to the neighbourhood of La Intimidad. There my guide conducts
me to a tumble-down negro hut kept by a decrepit negress, and situated
in the midst of a very paradise of banana-trees, plantains, palms, and
gigantic ferns. The fare which my hostess provides consists of native
fruits and vegetables, cooked in a variety of ways, together with
'bacalao' (dried cod-fish), and 'tasajito,' or salted meat, dried in the
sun. After my fatiguing pilgrimage, I refresh myself with a cigarette
and a cup of well-made 'cafe negro;' I bathe in spring water diluted
with aguardiente rum, and exchange my soiled clothes of white drill for
a fresh suit of the same material. Towards the cool of the evening, as I
sit smoking a long damp cigar before the door of my rustic habitation,
the flapping of huge plantain-leaves, and the clatter of horses' hoofs,
announce the approach of my charmer, who, escorted by the faithful
Gumersinda, has come to visit me in my homely retreat. I assist Cachita
in alighting from her steed, and in due course we are seated beneath the
shade of an overhanging mango-tree, whose symmetrical leaves reach to
the ground, and completely conceal us. We are disturbed by no other
sound than the singing of birds, the creaking of hollow bamboos, and the
rippling of water. Under these pleasant circumstances, we converse and
make love to our hearts' content. The cautious Gumersinda warns us when
the hour for separation arrives, and then we reluctantly part. Our
agreeable tete-a-tete is repeated on the following day, but as Don
Severiano is expected to return the day after, this is our last
interview.
On my road back to town, whom should I meet, at a wayside tienda, but
Cachita's formidable parent, together with his friend Senor Catasus,
and my rival, the young Amador! Don Severiano is furious. High words
pass between us, there is a scene, and I leave the cane-field proprietor
swearing to punish everybody concerned in his daughter's secret
engagement.
Some days after my return to town, I learn that the black maid
Gumersinda, and the mule-driver Saturnino, have suffered the penalty of
slave law at the hands of their owner, who has sentenced them both to a
severe flogging. Through the medium of a friend, I receive a note from
Cachita, to inform me that her father is determined to break off my
engagement with his daughter by a more effectual separation than that
which has been already attempted. 'If you love me,' the note concludes,
'have me deposited without delay.'
To 'deposit' a young lady in Cuba, is to have her legally transferred to
the house of a trustworthy relative, or a respectable family. A legal
document for her arrest is presented at the parental house, and if the
young lady be of age, and willing to sign her assent, no opposition on
the part of her parents will avail. If, at the expiration of the
prescribed period, no reason is shown why the deposited damsel should
not follow her inclinations, the lover may release his precious pledge
by marrying her at once.
In accordance with Cachita's desire, I consult the nearest lawyer, from
whom I obtain a formal document, empowering me to deposit Cachita as
soon as she shall have arrived at her town residence. I await this event
with impatience, but days elapse, and the shutters of Don Severiano's
habitation remain closed. I am soon relieved from my anxiety, but am
horrified to learn that Cachita has been removed from the sugar estate,
and consigned to the tender care of nuns in the town convent. As my
legal powers cannot penetrate that sanctum, I am compelled to await the
natural course of events. Cachita is destined to pass six long months
within the convent walls, during which time Don Severiano confidently
hopes that solitary confinement and holy teaching will have a beneficial
effect upon Cachita's mind. Should this prove otherwise, the period for
her incarceration will be prolonged, until the fire of her young
affections shall have been completely quenched.