A CUBAN WEDDING.
Open Engagements--A Marriage Ceremony--A Wedding Breakfast--The
Newly-Married Couple.
A number of Don Benigno's relatives and friends have, like ourselves,
taken refuge in the peaceful city of Havana. Some of them purpose
remaining here till affairs at Santiago are more settled, while others,
like Don Benigno, intend to make New York their temporary abode.
Surrounded by his friends, the Don begins to feel at home again. Every
evening he holds a tertulia at his temporary residence, as of old, and
upon these occasions I recognise many familiar faces. Senor Esteban, the
lawyer, Don Magin, the merchant, and Don Felipe, the sugar planter, are
the Don's guests again. Doctor Francisco and his family have also
arrived in Havana, en route for Europe: for even our medical friend has
been in danger of arrest for having administered to some wounded
'patriots' at a village near Santiago.
Don Manuel is of course a constant visitor at Don Benigno's, but I do
not envy him the term of courtship which precedes the marriage, nor is
the ceremony itself very inviting.
In his capacity of lover, Don Manuel is bound to submit to many
hardships. He may not meet his fiancee alone under any circumstances;
her society must be enjoyed only in the presence of the numerous friends
and relatives who visit her at all hours of the day and evening. Then,
he is expected to return some of these visits, in company with his
future bride, her mother and sister. He must also submit to certain
formalities required of him by the priest who is to unite the 'promessi
sposi,' and the most irksome of these is that of confession. Paquita
confesses, and that is nothing new to her, but it is otherwise with the
young officer. In short, until Don Manuel is actually a happy husband,
his position is by no means enviable, and for my own part, I would
gladly relinquish two years of married life in Cuba for half an hour's
secret love-making at a certain grated window!
The wearisome ordeal at length comes to an end--the nuptial day arrives.
The ceremony, such as it is, takes place very late in the night; indeed,
it is early morning before Don Manuel and his male friends reach the
cathedral, where the event is to be celebrated. A single bell tolls like
a funeral knell as we enter a small chapel connected with the sacred
edifice. It is a dreary apartment, dismally lighted with two long wax
candles. Nobody is present, save Don Manuel, the male friends already
mentioned, and the sacristan, who enlivens us by trying (and failing) to
beautify, with false flowers and false candles, a miserable altar-piece
at one extremity of the chapel. The young officer's importance as a
bridegroom is not at present appreciated, either by himself or by his
friends, with whom he converses upon indifferent subjects, and who, like
myself, are attired in ordinary walking costume.
Presently a Quitrin, drawn by a couple of mules, with a black postilion
in jack-boots, halts without. The bride, accompanied by her mother and a
friend, alight, and, without taking notice of anybody in particular,
pass silently into the chapel. The importance of Don Manuel's position
does not reveal itself by this act, nor is it considerably improved,
when the ecclesiastic, who is to marry the happy pair, emerges from a
dark corner, smiles artificially around him, and exhausts the rest of
his amiability with the ladies. But the priest is not so unconscious of
Don Manuel as that gentleman supposes. Soon he singles the officer out
from the group of males, and bids him follow the bride, and his future
mother-in-law, into an adjacent chamber. But little is required of the
bridegroom besides his signature to a paper, which he does not read; and
when the holy man has addressed something or other to him in the Latin
language, he is politely requested to withdraw. Shortly after Don
Manuel's retirement, the bride and her escort issue from the mysterious
chamber, and, after saluting us all round, take their departure and
drive away. Don Manuel's distinguished position seems to be scarcely
increased by these proceedings; but when his friends congratulate him,
the lights of the chapel are extinguished, and the decorations on the
miserable altar-piece are stowed away, he endeavours to realise the
feelings of a married man. Don Manuel follows his friends as they lead
the way to the bride's parental roof, consoling himself with
newly-rolled cigarettes as he walks along.
It is nearly two A.M. before we reach the scene of the festivities,
where most of the guests are already assembled. A long table has been
tastefully arranged with sweetmeats, cakes, fruit, wine, and other
luxuries, and some of the guests, whose appetites could not be
restrained, have already inaugurated the festivities. Much confusion,
uproar, and struggling after dainties peculiar to a Cuban banquet,
prevail, and it is not without an effort that the young officer
contrives at last to find a place near his bride. Healths are drunk and
responded to incessantly, and often simultaneously; rather, as it would
seem, for the excuse of drinking champagne and English bottled ale, than
from motives of sentiment.
When enough cigarettes have been smoked, and enough wine and beer have
been disposed of, all the company rises with one accord. The ladies
throw light veils across their shoulders, the gentlemen don their
panamas; and the bride and her mother, together with the bridegroom and
all the guests, followed by an army of black domestics, leave Don
Benigno's habitation, and marching in noisy procession along the narrow
streets, arrive at the bride's future home. It is a one-storied dwelling
with marble floors and white-washed walls, and is furnished with
bran-new cane-bottomed chairs and other adornments belonging to a Cuban
residence. The huge doors and windows of every apartment are thrown open
to their widest and the interior being brilliantly lighted with gas, the
view from the street is almost as complete as within the premises.
Everybody crowds into the latter, and examines the arrangements of each
chamber with as deep an interest as if they were wandering through an
old baronial mansion with cards of invitation from its absent owner. The
reception-room, the comedor or dining-room, the out-houses round the
patio or court-yard, are carefully inspected by the throng, who are
irrepressible even in respect to the dormitory assigned for the use of
the bridegroom, and that allotted to the bride, and situated in quite a
different quarter.
Everybody's curiosity being satisfied, everybody, save the newly-married
pair and a few black domestics, is wished a 'muy buenas noches,' or,
more correctly speaking (for the hour is 4 A.M.), a very good morning.