Sabbath Scenes in Havana. -- Thimble-Riggers and Mountebanks.
-- City Squares and their Ornamentation. -- The Cathedral. --
Tomb of Columbus. -- Plaza de Armas. -- Out-Door Concerts. --
Habitués of Paseo de Isabella. -- Superbly Appointed Cafés.
-- Gambling. -- Lottery Tickets. -- Fast Life. -- Masquerade
Balls. -- Carnival Days. -- The Famous Tacon Theatre. -- The
Havana Casino. -- Public Statues. -- Beauties of the
Governor's Garden. -- The Alameda. -- The Old Bell-Ringer. --
Military Mass.
On no other occasion is the difference between the manners of a
Protestant and Catholic community so strongly marked as on the
Sabbath. In the former, a sober seriousness stamps the deportment of
the people, even when they are not engaged in devotional exercises; in
the latter, worldly pleasures and religious forms are pursued, as it
were, at the same time, or follow each other in incongruous
succession. We would not have the day made tedious, and it can only be
so to triflers; to the true Christian it will ever be characterized by
thoughtfulness and repose. The Parisian flies from the church to the
railway station to join some picnic excursion, or to assist at the
race-course, or he passes with a careless levity from St. Geneviève to
the dance booths of the Champs Elysées. In New Orleans, the Creole who
has just bent his knee before the altar repairs to the theatre to pass
the evening; and the Cuban goes from the absolution of the priest to
the hurly-burly of the bull-ring or the cock-pit.
The influence of fifteen minutes in the church, if salutary, would
seem to be quickly dissipated by the attraction of the gaming-table
and the masked ball. Even the Sunday ceremonial of the Church is a
pageant: the splendid robes of the officiating priest, changed in the
course of the service like the costume of actors in a drama; the
music, to Protestant ears operatic and exciting; the clouds of incense
scattering their intoxicating perfumes; the chanting in a strange
tongue, unknown to the majority of the worshipers,--all tend to give
the Roman Catholic services a carnival character. Far be it from us,
however, to charge these congregations with an undue levity, or a lack
of sincerity. Many a lovely Creole kneels upon the marble floor
entirely estranged from the brilliant groups around her, and
apparently unconscious for the time of the admiration she excites.
There are many, no doubt, who look beyond the glittering symbols to
the great truths of the Being whom they are intended to typify. The
impression made by the Sabbath ceremonials of the Church strikes us as
evanescent, more pleasing to the fancy than informing to the
understanding. Still, if the Sabbath in Catholic countries is not
wholly devoted to religious observances, neither are the week days
wholly absorbed by business and by careless pleasures. The churches
are always open, silently but eloquently inviting to devotion, and it
is much to be able to step aside at any moment from the temptations,
business, and cares of life into an atmosphere of seclusion and
religion. The solemn quiet of an old cathedral on a week day is
impressive from its very contrast to the tumult outside. Within its
venerable walls the light seems chastened, as it falls through stained
panes and paints the images of Christian saints and martyrs on the
pavement of the aisles. A half unwilling reverence is apt to stimulate
us on such an occasion, however skeptical we may be.
The Sabbath in Havana breaks upon the citizens amid the ringing of
bells, the firing of cannon from the forts, the noise of trumpets, and
the roll of the drum. It is no day of physical rest here, and the
mechanical trades are uninterrupted. It is the chosen period for the
military reviews, the masked ball, and the bull-fight. The stores are
open as usual, the same cries are heard on the streets, and the
lottery tickets are vended on every corner. The individuals who devote
themselves to this business are in numbers like an army with banners.
They rend the air with their cries, promising good luck to all
purchasers, while they flourish their scissors with one hand, and
thrust the sheet of printed numbers in your face with the other, ready
to cut any desired ticket or portion of a ticket. The day proves
equally propitious for the omnipresent organ-grinder and his
ludicrously-dressed little monkey, à la Napoleon; the Chinese peddler;
the orange and banana dealer; and the universal cigarette purveyor.
Still, the rough Montero from the country, with his long line of
loaded mules or ponies, respectfully raises his broad Panama with one
hand while he makes the sign of the cross with the other as he passes
the church door. The churches of Havana look very old and shabby
compared with those of peninsular Spain, where the splendor of church
ornamentation reaches its acme.
In and about the commercial part of the town, the out-door gambler
forms a conspicuous feature of the Sabbath, seated upon a cloth spread
upon the ground, and armed with cards, dice, cups, and other
instruments. With voluble tongue and expressive pantomime urging the
passer-by to try his luck, he meets with varying success. Many who are
drawn into the net are adroitly permitted to win a little, and
afterwards to lose much. Sailors on shore for a day's liberty are
profitable game for these thimble-riggers, as they are called with us.
Both Spaniards and Creoles patronize them, and occasionally a negro
tries his luck with a trifle. In open squares, or at the intersection
of several streets, one sometimes sees a carpet spread upon the
ground, upon which an athlete accompanied by a couple of expert boys,
dressed in high-colored tights ornamented with spangles, diverts the
throng by exhibiting gymnastics. At the close of the performance, a
young girl in a fancy dress and with long, flowing hair passes among
the spectators and gathers a few shillings. Not far away is observed
Punch and Judy in the height of a successful quarrel to the music of a
harp and a violin. The automatic contestants pound and pommel each
other after the conventional fashion.
The city abounds in well-arranged squares, often ornamented by the
royal palm, always a figure of majesty and beauty, with here and there
a few orange, lime, and banana trees, mingled with the Indian laurel,
which forms a grateful shade by its dense foliage. The royal palm is
strongly individualized, differing from other trees of the same
family. It is usually from sixty to eighty feet in height at what may
be called its maturity, and not unfrequently reaches a hundred, the
tall trunk slightly swelling near the middle and tapering at either
extremity. The upper portion is of a fresh and shining green,
contrasting with the lower section, which is of a light slate color.
It is crowned by a tuft of branches and leaves at its apex, like a
bunch of ostrich feathers drooping in all directions. It seems as
though the palm could not be out of place in any spot. It imparts
great beauty to the scenery in and about Havana. When it is found
dotting a broad stretch of country here and there in isolated groups,
or even singly, it is always the first object to catch and delight the
eye. It is also a marked and beautiful feature where it forms a long
avenue, lining the road on either side leading to a sugar or coffee
plantation, but it requires half a century to perfect such an avenue.
The Plaza de Armas, fronting the Governor's palace, is a finely kept
square, and until the Parque de Isabella was finished, it was the
great centre of fashion, and the place of evening resort. At one
corner of this Plaza is an insignificant chapel, built upon the spot
where Columbus is said to have assisted at the first mass celebrated
on the island; an anachronism easily exposed were it worth the while.
The great discoverer never landed at Havana during his lifetime,
though his body was brought hither for burial, centuries after his
death. There is one fact relating to this site in the Plaza de Armas
fully authenticated, and which is not without interest. An enormous
old ceiba tree originally stood here, beneath whose branches mass was
sometimes performed. This remarkable tree having expired of old age
was removed by order of the Governor-General, and the chapel was
erected on the spot where its widespread branches had cast their
shadow for centuries. We did not see the interior of the chapel, as it
is opened but once a year to the public,--on the 16th of November,
which is the feast day of San Cristobal, when mass is celebrated in
honor of the great discoverer. It is said to contain a marble bust of
Columbus, and two or three large historical paintings.
This square is divided into neatly kept paths, and planted with
fragrant flowers, conspicuous among which were observed the white and
red camellias, while a grateful air of coolness was diffused by the
playing of a fountain into a broad basin, ornamented by a marble
statue of Ferdinand VII. The Creoles are passionately fond of music,
and this park used to be the headquarters of all out-door concerts.
Their favorite airs are waltzes and native dances, with not a little
of the Offenbach spirit in them. The guitar is the favorite domestic
musical instrument here, as in peninsular Spain, and both sexes are as
a rule clever performers upon it. Evening music in the open air is
always attractive, but nowhere is its influence more keenly felt than
under the mellow effulgence of tropical nights. Nowhere can we
conceive of a musical performance listened to with more relish and
appreciation than in the Plaza de Armas or the Parque de Isabella in
Havana. The latter place on the occasion of the concerts is the resort
of all classes. Here friends meet, flirtations are carried on, toilets
are displayed, and lovers woo. Even the humble classes are seen in
large numbers quietly strolling on the outer portions of the Plaza
listening to the fine performances of the band, and quietly enjoying
the music, "tamed and led by this enchantress still." The balmy nature
of the climate permits the ladies to dispense with shawls or wraps of
any sort; bonnets they very seldom wear, so that they sit in their
vehicles, or alighting appropriate the chairs arranged for the purpose
lining the broad central path, and thus appear in full evening dress,
bare arms, and necks supplemented by most elaborate coiffures. Even
the black lace mantilla, so commonly thrown over the head and
shoulders in the cities of Spain, is discarded of an evening on the
Plaza de Isabella.
It was very amusing to sit here near the marble statue of the ex-queen
(which is, by the way, a wonderful likeness of Queen Victoria), where
the band, composed of sixty instrumental performers, discoursed
admirable music, and to observe young Cuba abroad, represented by boys
and girls of ten and twelve years dressed like young ladies and
gentlemen, sauntering arm in arm through the broad paths. These
children attend balls given by grown-up people, and are painted and
bedizened and decked out like their elders,--a singular fashion in
Cuban cities. It is true they not infrequently fall asleep on such
occasions in rocking-chairs and in odd corners, overcome by fatigue,
as the hours of festivity creep on towards the morning. Childhood is
ignored. Youth of a dozen years is introduced to the habits of people
thrice that age. We were sadly told, by one who is himself a parent,
that most children in the island but twelve years of age know the
delicate relations of the sexes as well as they would ever know them.
What else could be expected in an atmosphere so wretchedly immoral?
Small boys dressed in stovepipe hats and swallow-tail coats, and
little misses in long dresses with low necks look like mountebanks.
Opposite the Plaza de Isabella, on the Tacon Theatre side of the
square, are situated the most fashionable cafés and restaurants of the
capital, where "life" commences at nine o'clock in the evening and
rages fast and furious until the small hours of the morning. In these
resorts, which are one blaze of light, every gas-burner reflected by
dozens of mirrors, the marble tables are all occupied by vivacious
patrons. Some are playing dominoes, some few are engaged at games of
chess, others are busy over checkers or cards, and all are gambling.
Even the lookers-on at the games freely stake their money on the
fortunes of the several players. The whole scene is one of noise and
confusion, fifty tongues giving voice at the same time. If a Spaniard
or Creole loses a dollar he gesticulates and argues about it as though
thousands were involved in the issue. These people represent all
classes. Some are in their shirt-sleeves, some roughly clothed, some
in full evening dress; Spaniards, Creoles, mulattoes, and occasionally
an unmistakable European. They drink often, but not strong liquors,
and one is surprised to hear coffee so often called for in place of
wine. The games are kept up until two or three o'clock in the morning.
Loitering about the doors beggars always form the shadow of the scene;
some lame, some blind, mostly negroes and coolies; now and then there
is seen among them an intelligent but sad white face, which looks
rather than utters its appeal. These are often the recipients of the
successful gambler's bounty. Now and again a lottery-ticket vender
comes in and makes the circuit of the tables, always disposing of more
or less chances, sometimes selling a whole ticket, price one doubloon,
or seventeen dollars. As we watch the scene a daintily dressed youth
with shining beaver lounges in, accompanied by one of the demi-monde
gayly dressed and sparkling with jewelry which betrays her want of
modesty. She is of the true Andalusian type, olive complexion,
coal-black hair with eyes to match, and long dark lashes; petite in
figure and youthful, but aged in experience. Bonnetless, her luxuriant
hair is set high upon her head, held by a square tortoise-shell comb,
and carelessly thrown off her forehead with a parting on one side. Be
sure some sad story underlies her career. She is of just that gypsy
cast that painters love to delineate. They sit down at a side table
and order ices, cake, and champagne. These are consumed amid jests and
laughter, the spurious champagne, at a fabulous cost, is drunk
merrily, the hours creep on, and the couple retire to give place to
others, after having furnished a picture of the fast, false life of
these brilliant, but dissipated haunts.
Some of these cafés are more exclusive than others, where respectable
ladies and gentlemen can retire after the band has ceased its
performance, and enjoy the cooling influence of an ice. The Louvre,
just opposite the Plaza de Isabella and adjoining the Tacon Theatre,
is one of such. These establishments couple with their current evening
business that of the manufacture of choice preserves for domestic use
and also for export, the fruits of the island supplying the basis for
nearly a hundred varieties of fruit preserves, which find large sales
in our Northern cities and in Europe.
In carnival week these cafés do an immense business; it is the harvest
of their year. People who can hardly afford three meals a day pinch
themselves and suffer much self-denial that they may have money to
spend in carnival week. The public masquerade balls, which then take
place, allure all classes. The celebrations of the occasion culminate
in a grand public masquerade ball given in the Tacon Theatre. The
floor of the parquette is temporarily raised to a level with the
boxes and the stage, the entire floor or lower part of the house being
converted into a grand ball-room. The boxes and galleries are thrown
open free to the public. The music, furnished by two military bands,
alternating in their performance, is kept up until broad daylight,
while the participants come and go as they please. A little after
midnight an organization called the comparzas comes upon the scene. It
is composed of men, boys, and women, all masked, who have practiced
for the occasion some emblematic dance to perform for their own and
the public amusement. The other dancers give way and the new-comers
perform, in harlequin fashion, their allotted parts. Towards morning a
large paper globe is suspended from the ceiling and lowered to within
a certain height from the floor. Blindfolded volunteers of both sexes,
furnished with sticks, are permitted to walk towards and try to hit
it. Scores fail, others just graze the globe of paper, all amid loud
laughter from the spectators. Finally some one hits the globe full and
fair, bringing down the contents amid vociferous applause. Then
commences a general scramble for the contents, consisting of bonbons,
toys, and fancy trinkets.
The celebrated Tacon Theatre faces the Paseo de Isabella, and is built
on the corner of San Rafael Street. It is a capacious structure, but
extremely plain and unimpressive in its exterior appearance. It has
five tiers of boxes and a spacious parquette, the latter furnished
with separate arm-chair seats for six hundred persons. The entire
seating capacity of the house is a trifle over three thousand, and the
auditorium is of the horseshoe shape. The lattice-work finish before
the boxes is very light and graceful in effect, ornamented with gilt,
and so open as to display the dresses and pretty feet of the fair
occupants to the best advantage. The frescos are in good style, and
the ornamentation, without being excessive, is in excellent and
harmonious taste. A large, magnificent glass chandelier, lighted with
gas, and numerous smaller ones extending from the boxes give a
brilliant light to this elegant house, which is one of the largest
theatres in the world. The scene is a remarkable one when tier upon
tier is filled with gayly dressed ladies, powdered and rouged as Cuban
women are apt to be, in the most liberal manner. The parquette is
reserved for gentlemen, and when the audience is assembled forms a
striking contrast to the rest of the house, as they always appear in
dark evening dress, and between the acts put on their tall black
beaver hats. These audiences have their own special modes of
exhibiting appreciation or applause, when captivated by a prima
donna's or a danseuse's efforts to please them. At favorable moments
during the performance the artist is showered with bouquets; white
doves are set free from the boxes, bearing laudatory verses fastened
to their wings; gentlemen throw their hats upon the stage, and
sometimes even purses weighted with gold. Tiny balloons are started
with long streamers of colored ribbon attached; jewelry in the shape
of bracelets and rings is conveyed over the footlights; in short,
these Spaniards are sometimes extraordinarily demonstrative. A furore
has sometimes cost these caballeros large sums of money. But we are
describing the past rather than the immediate present, for the
scarcity of pecuniary means has put an end to nearly all such
extravagances. The Havanese are peculiar in their tastes. While Miss
Adelaide Phillips was more than once the recipient of extravagant
favors on the Tacon Theatre stage, Jenny Lind did not pay her
professional expenses when she sang there.
The military are always in attendance in large numbers at the theatre,
as at all public gatherings in Cuba, their only perceptible use being
to stare the ladies out of countenance and to obstruct the
passageways. In front of the main entrance to the theatre is an open
area decorated with tropical plants and trees, where a group of the
crimson hibiscus was observed, presenting a gorgeous effect of color.
The other places of amusement in Havana, of a dramatic character, are
the Payret Theatre, very large, seating twenty-five hundred; the
Albisu Theatre, and the Circo, Teatro de Jané, this latter combining a
theatre with a circus.
As a place of amusement and instruction combined we should be remiss
not to mention the Casino of Havana. It is carried on by an organized
society formed on the basis of a club and has, we were told, over one
hundred members. The Casino occupies a fine building, fronting Obispo
Street, and close to the parks. It supports a free school for teaching
the English and French languages and drawing. After some fifteen years
of successful existence the society has become one of the institutions
of the metropolis. The halls and apartments are large, lofty, and very
finely furnished with all domestic conveniences except sleeping
accommodations. Here dramatic entertainments are frequently given,
mostly by amateurs, and generally for charitable purposes. The main
ball-room of the Casino is handsomely decorated and is the scene of
occasional masked balls, after the true Madrid style, where many an
intrigue is consummated which does not always end without bloodshed.
It is the favorite resort of all the high officials of Havana, who
have within their possible reach too few social entertainments not to
make the most of those presented at the Casino. During the carnival
season the ball-room of the establishment is said to present, in the
form of nightly masquerade balls, scenes which for gayety and
picturesqueness cannot be surpassed in Europe.
Old Havana is certainly eclipsed by the really fine broad streets and
the palatial buildings which have sprung up outside of her ancient
limits. In point of picturesqueness the old town has precedence. Near
where the Indian Paseo and the Plaza de Isabella II. join each other,
a portion of the old wall which once surrounded the city is still to
be seen, with its crumbling bastions and ivy-grown débris. Sufficient
is left to show that the wall was a remarkably substantial one and an
efficient defense against the modes of attack prevalent when it was
built. The Indian Paseo commences opposite the Campo de Marte, and is
so called from the large marble fountain dedicated to that aboriginal
idea. This elaborate structure was executed in Italy at large expense.
Its principal figure is an Indian maiden, allegorical of Havana,
supporting a shield bearing the arms of the city. These paseos are
admirably ornamented on either side by a continuous line of laurel
trees whose thick foliage gives admirable shade. On either side of the
long central promenade the well-paved streets are broad and handsome,
being ornamented with high buildings of a domestic and public
character and of good architectural effect. The Matanzas & Havana
Railroad depot is situated just opposite one end of the Campo de
Marte, its freight yard extending also along the Paseo for an entire
block, detracing much from the fine effect of the broad street. The
trains and noisy engines being thus brought into the midst of the
dwellings and business centre of the city render it very
objectionable. The guests of the Telegrafo Hotel can bear testimony as
to the nuisance thus created, being awakened at all sorts of
unreasonable hours by the engine bell and steam whistle.
The Botanical Garden is situated about a mile from the city proper,
adjoining which are the attractive grounds of the Governor General's
country-house. Both are open to the public and richly repay a visit.
The Governor's grounds are shaded by a great variety of tropical trees
and flowers. Here was seen what is called the water rose, pink in
color and nearly double the size of our pond lily, recalling the
Egyptian lotus, to which family it would seem it must belong.
Altogether, the place is a wilderness of blossoms, composed of exotic
and native flowers. There is also an interesting aviary to be seen
here, and a small artificial lake is covered with curious web-footed
birds and brilliant-feathered ducks. The gardens seem to be neglected,
but they are very lovely in their native luxuriance. Dead wood and
decaying leaves are always a concomitant of such gardens in the low
latitudes. If the roses and heliotropes are in full bloom, some other
flowering shrub alongside is taking its rest and looks rusty, so that
the whole garden is never in a glow of beauty at one time, as is the
case with us in June. The noble alley of palms, the great variety of
trees, blossoms, and shrubs, the music of the fountains, and the
tropical flavor permeating everything were all in the harmony of
languid beauty. The coral tree, that lovely freak of vegetation, was
in bloom, its small but graceful stem, seven or eight feet in height,
being topped above the gracefully pendent leaves with a bit of
vegetable coral of deepest red, and in the form of the sea growth from
which it takes its name. The star cactus was in full flower, the
scarlet buds starting out from the flat surface of the thick leaves
after a queer and original fashion. The bread-fruit tree, with its
large, melon-like product, hung heavy with the nourishing esculent.
The Carolina tree, with gorgeous blossoms like military pompons,
blazed here and there, overshadowing the large, pure white, and
beautiful campanile, with hanging flowers, like metallic bells, after
which the plant is named. Here too was a great variety of the scarlet
hibiscus and the garland of night (galan de noche), which grows like a
young palm to eight or nine feet, throwing out from the centre-of its
drooping foliage a cluster of brown blossoms tipped with white, shaped
like a mammoth bunch of grapes. It blooms at night and is fragrant
only by moon and starlight. Cuba presents an inexhaustible field for
the botanist, and in its wilder portions recalls the island of Ceylon
in the Indian Ocean. As Ceylon is called the pearl of India so is Cuba
the pearl of the Antilles.
To reach the Governor's Garden one turns west from the Campo de Marte
and takes the Calzada de la Reina, which followed about a mile in a
straight line becomes the Paseo de Tacon, really but a continuation of
the former street, commencing at the statue of Carlos III., a colossal
monument placed in the middle of the broad driveway. This Paseo forms
the favorite evening drive of the citizens, where the ladies in
victorias and the gentlemen either as equestrians or on foot pass and
repass each other, gayly saluting, the ladies with a coquettish
flourish of the fan, and the gentlemen with a peculiar wave of the
hand. It is in fact the Champs Elysées of Havana, but the road is
sadly out of repair and as dusty as an ash-pit.
The Alameda--every large Spanish city has a spot so designated--skirts
the shore of the harbor on the city side, near the south end of
Oficios Street, and is a favorite resort for promenaders at the
evening hour. Here a refreshing coolness is breathed from off the sea.
This Alameda de Paula might be a continuation of the Neapolitan
Chiaja. With characteristics quite different, still these shores
constantly remind one of the Mediterranean, Sorrento, Amalfi, and
Capri, recalling the shadows which daily creep up the heights of San
Elmo and disappear with the setting sun behind the orange groves.
Sometimes it would seem to be the grand problem of humanity, why the
loveliest regions of the earth and the softest climates should be
apportioned to the share of slaves and despots.
The cathedral of Havana, on Empedrado Street, is a structure of much
interest, its rude pillared front of defaced and moss-grown stone
plainly telling of the wear of time. The two lofty towers are hung
with many bells, which daily call with their brazen tongues to matins
and vespers. Some of these bells are very ancient. The church is not
elaborately ornamented,--it rather strikes one with its unusual
plainness. It contains a few oil paintings of moderate merit, and also
the tomb where the ashes of Columbus so long reposed. All that is
visible of this tomb, which is on the right of the altar, is a marble
tablet six or eight feet square, upon which, in high relief, is a bust
of the great discoverer. As a work of art, the less said of this
effigy the better. Beneath the image is an inscription sufficiently
bombastic and Spanish in tone, but therein we observed no mention was
made of the chains and imprisonment with which an ungrateful country
rewarded this man whom history so delights to honor. It will be
remembered that Columbus died at Valladolid in 1506. In 1513 his
remains were transferred to Seville, preparatory to their being sent,
as desired in his will, to St. Domingo, to which city they were
removed in 1536. When that island was ceded to France, they were
brought with great pomp to Havana in a national ship (January 15,
1796), and deposited in this cathedral in the presence of all the high
authorities of the island. These remains have again been removed, and
are now interred at Seville, in Spain. The cathedral, aside from this
association, is really attractive, and one lingers with quiet
thoughtfulness among its marble aisles and confessionals. The lofty
dome is supported by pillars of marble and the walls are frescoed. The
high altar is a remarkable composition, with pillars of porphyry
mingled with a confusion of images, candlesticks, and tinsel. The
stalls for the priests are handsomely carved in mahogany. It was
annoying to see Gothic grandeur and modern frippery so mingled as was
observable in this church. When mass is being performed women attend
in goodly numbers, but one rarely sees any of the male population
present, unless they be, like the author, strangers come hither from
curiosity to see the interior of this Cathedral de la Virgen Maria de
la Concepcion.
All persons who come to Havana visit the cathedral because it contains
the tomb of Columbus, but if they have traveled in Europe they have
seen so much finer structures of this class, especially in Spain, that
this one challenges but little attention. Let us, gentle reader, go up
into the lofty bell tower, where we shall find the most comprehensive
view possible of the Cuban capital. The old bell-ringer, seated before
a deal table, ekes out a scanty living by making cigars away up here
in his circumscribed eyrie. What an original he would have been in the
practiced hands of Victor Hugo! This hermit of the tower will call
your attention to the ancient bells, which are his sole companions:
one bears the date of 1664, with a half-defaced Latin legend; another
is dated at London, 1698. He is a queer old enthusiast about these
bells, and will tell you on what special occasions of interest he has
caused them to speak with metallic tongue to the people: now as a
danger signal; then uttering sounds of triumph and announcing a
victory; again, tolling the notes of sorrow for the departed, or as
merry marriage bells, the heralds of joy. He will tell you how many
years, man and boy, he has summoned the devout to matins and to
vespers with their resonant voices. If you have a fancy for such
things, and some silver to spare, after leaving the bell tower the
sacristan will show you the rich vestments, robes, and laces for
priestly wear belonging to the church, not forgetting many saintly
garments wrought in gold and studded with precious stones. Perhaps you
will think, as we did, that such things are but tinsel before Him whom
they are supposed to honor. Such dazzling paraphernalia may attract
the ignorant or the thoughtless--may make followers, but not
converts. Conviction is not the child of fancy, but of judgment.
In an anteroom at the left of the altar there are also to be seen
utensils of silver and gold, with many costly ornaments for use before
the altar on special church occasions. One of these is a triumph of
delicate workmanship and of the silversmith's art. It is in the form
of a Gothic tower of very elaborate and artistic design, composed of
solid silver, ornamented with gold and precious stones. One regards
this thoroughly useless disposal of money with the thought that the
articles were better sold and the proceeds bestowed in worthy charity.
It would then fulfill a far more Christian purpose than that of adding
glitter to church pomp and ceremony.
To witness the observance of Holy Week, commencing with Palm Sunday,
in Havana, one would be impressed with a conviction that the people
were at heart devout Roman Catholics. The occasion is solemnly
observed. On Sunday the old cathedral is crowded by people who come to
obtain branches of holy palm from the priests. The old bell-ringer
becomes an important agent of the ceremonies, and the solemn spirit of
the occasion seems to imbue all classes of the Havanese. On Holy
Thursday, just before midday, the bells of all the churches cease to
ring, and every vehicle in the city disappears from the streets as if
by magic. The garrison marches through the principal thoroughfares in
silence, with measured tread and arms reversed. The national flags
upon the shipping, and on all the forts from Moro to the Castillo del
Principe, are displayed at half mast. The cathedral and the churches
are draped in mourning. On Friday, the effigy of our Saviour's body
is carried in solemn procession, men and priests marching with heads
uncovered, and devout women of the common classes, especially colored
ones, kneeling in the street as it passes. On Saturday, at ten o'clock
in the morning, the old bell-ringer suddenly starts a merry peal from
the cathedral tower--the bells of La Merced, San Agustin, Santa Clara,
and Santa Cataline follow; the town awakens to gayety as from a
lethargic sleep. Whites and negroes rush through the streets like mad;
vehicles of all sorts again make their appearance, the forts and
national ships are dressed in holiday flags, and the town is shaken
with reiterated salutes from a hundred cannons.
Military mass, as performed within the cathedral, seemed more like a
theatrical show than a solemn religious service. On the occasion
referred to, the congregation as usual was sparse, and consisted
almost exclusively of women, who seem to do penance for both sexes in
Cuba. The military band which led the column of infantry marched in,
playing a quick operatic air, deploying to one side for the soldiery
to pass towards the altar. The time-keeping steps of the soldiery upon
the marble floor mingled with drum, fife, and organ. Through all this,
one caught now and then the monotonous voice of a shaven-headed
priest, reciting his prescribed part at the altar, kneeling and
reading at intervals. The busy censer boys in white gowns; the flaring
candles casting long shadows athwart the high altar; the files of
soldiers kneeling and rising at the tap of the drum; the atmosphere
clouded with the fumes of burning incense,--all combined to make up a
singularly dramatic picture. The gross mummery witnessed at the temple
of Buddha in Ceylon differed only in form, scarcely in degree.
The wealth of the churches of the monks in the island was formerly
proverbial, but of late the rich perquisites which the priests were so
long permitted to extort from the credulous public have been diverted
so as to flow into the coffers of the crown. A military depotism
brooks no rival in authority. The priests at one time possessed large
tracts of land in Cuba, and their revenue therefrom, especially when
they were improved as sugar plantations, was very large. These lands
have all been confiscated by the government, and with the loss of
their property the power of the monks has declined and their numbers
have also diminished. Still the liberty of public worship is denied to
all save Roman Catholics. Since the suppression of monastic
institutions, some of the convents have been utilized for hospitals,
government storehouses, and other public offices in Havana. There are
some manifest incongruities that suggest themselves as existing
between Church and state upon the island. For instance, the Church
recognizes the unity of all races and even permits marriage between
all, but here steps in the civil law of Cuba and prohibits marriage
between white persons and those having any taint of negro blood. In
consequence of this,--nature always asserting herself regardless of
conventionalities,--a quasi family arrangement often exists between
white men and mulatto or quadroon women, whereby the children are
recognized as legitimate. But should either party come under the
discipline of the Church, the relationship must terminate. Again, as
is perfectly well known, many of the priests, under a thin disguise,
lead domestic lives, where a family of children exist under the care
of a single mother, who is debarred from the honest name of wife by
the laws of celibacy which are stringently held as the inexorable
rule of the Church.
If the priesthood keep from cock-fighting and gambling, says a late
writer on the subject, notwithstanding many other departures from
propriety, they are considered respectable. Can there be any wonder
that the masses of men in Cuba recognize no religious obligations,
since none save Roman Catholicism is tolerated, and that, through its
priesthood, is so disgraced?