There are two railways leading from Havana to Matanzas, one called the
via Baya (Bay line) runs along the sea coast through a mountainous and
romantic country. This is much shorter than the other route, which
passes through the interior, affording the traveller an excellent
opportunity of observing the rural tropical scenes of the island.
I decided to go the latter way by the train, which was to start from the
depot near the Campo de Marte at 2.40 P.M. The fare from Havana to
Matanzas either way, second-class, is $7.10 in Cuban currency. This
class is well patronized by respectable travellers. Negroes, Chinese and
the poorest Cubans take the third. The carriage in which I rode was
built and furnished somewhat like those in the United States, except
that the seats had no cushions, and the windows no glass. The train
started at the appointed time, and we soon found ourselves rushing
through narrow streets, past many colored buildings.
The Yanza, or Chinese quarter, presents an extremely wretched and filthy
appearance, thus contrasting wonderfully with the splendid attractions
of other parts of the city. The suburbs were soon reached, and the hot
and dusty town gave place to the clear, refreshing country. Hurrying
past the gardens of the captain-general, with their avenues of royal and
cocoa palms, their fountains, waterfalls and pyramids of flowers, we
beheld ahead verdant, green hills, beautiful mansions, and here and
there very ancient stone buildings, forts, cottages and gardens. All
kinds of vegetables and blossoming plants were seen growing down to the
railroad track. There were waving meadows through which streams of a
pale blue, transparent tint, wandered gracefully, bending bamboos,
slanting palms, and thousands of wild vines full of flowers grew on the
banks. As the train rushed by these silent Edens, the splendid paroquets
and other gorgeous birds, browsing goats, mules and cattle started at
the sound, paused in wonder as we passed, and then relapsed into their
previous occupations. Half-naked Chinese farm-hands carried water in
buckets suspended from yokes fixed on their shoulders. We saw fields of
corn and sugar-cane stretching away for miles. Here and there, out of
this bright, green sea arose an odd planter's mansion, painted sky-blue
with its pillars, railings, and towers of white and gold. One of these
houses stood a few hundred feet from the track. It was two stories high,
solid and Corinthian in its architecture, of a cream color, while its
lofty colonnades were painted in delicate crimson and blue. Large,
costly vases, full of flowers, decorated the entrance, and this was
reached through an antique gateway that was covered with roses. Now we
swept by large banana groves whose trees were loaded with fruit. We
rushed by rocks, dells and fields adorned with grasses as glossy as
satin and of every color. We saw fruit trees of all kinds, stone fences
covered with century plants, cacti and other flowers; enchanting vales,
fields of shrubbery, and avenues of royal palms over fifty feet high,
ever stately and beautiful whether in groups or alone.
The soil of the island is of a deep red color, and contrasts splendidly
with the rich green of the trees. The cattle looked fat and large, and
numerous queer-looking domestic fowl were seen in the fields. The
"Ingenio" or sugar plantation, was readily recognized, whether rising
above the cane fields or partly shaded by trees. It consisted of a group
of buildings generally painted white, out of which arose a very tall
furnace chimney. Negroes and Chinese were seen steering oxen with carts
full of cane from the fields to the mill.
The chief agricultural industry of the island consists in the
cultivation of this product. Cane fields almost boundless in extent
appeared here and there in the luxuriant landscape. The railroad
stations at the villages where we stopped were crowded with hogsheads of
sugar and molasses, ready to be sent to Havana, and shipped from there
to foreign seaports. Black and white coolies were noticed cutting the
cane and often greedily devouring it, while the rich juice ran down
their naked chests. This could be had for almost nothing at the depots
from the dealers who also sold oranges, pineapples, tamarinds,
caimetoes, cocoanuts and other luscious fruit. I stepped out of the cars
at Guines, where the train was to stop for a few minutes, and bought for
a couple of cents two cocoanuts, each as large as an ordinary sized
mushmelon. The rind was perfectly green, soft and easily broken, the
juice fresh and delicious, and the pulp was tender and sweet, much
richer in flavor than that which one eats in the North. On the journey I
often noticed the tall and handsome ceiba tree, with its smooth trunk
and gracefully-spreading limbs and branches full of verdant leaves. Now
we passed by the house of the _montero_, or sporting peasant. It was a
rather rude-looking dwelling thatched with palm leaves, and open at the
sides to the mild, pure air. This _montero_ usually possesses but a few
acres, which yield him fruit, cane and vegetables enough to make his
life easy and contented. The streams give him lots of fish, and the
sunny blue skies look down with favor upon him, as he languidly reclines
on the grass and eats his melting bananas. The sisal hemp fields look
very attractive, and as the train rushes on, we catch glimpses of
laughing children, who are playing amid a wilderness of roses. We soon
reached the town of Catalina. It looked wonderfully charming, with its
handsome church and houses, surrounded by groves of bananas and oranges.
We saw pine apples growing in the gardens. The colored leaves of these
plants were conspicuous for their variety and beauty. The motion of the
train developed a steady breeze, and this, laden with the odors of
millions of blossoms and fruits, afforded us the greatest delight. The
eye could never tire of the beauty of these tropical scenes. When it
withdrew from immediate objects, it wandered away to rest with delight
on the softly lit-up mountains, crowned with palms. How splendid those
mountains looked, covered to their summits with verdure, and now as the
sun was sinking, becoming enveloped in purple and crimson mists. The
glory of the rosy sunset on field and wood was brought into deeper
relief by the shadows of the trees and hills. On getting on the rear of
the train, I was enabled to take in the receding landscape and the views
to the right and left. The whole seemed a poetic reality, a region of
luxurious delight. The heavens assumed most exquisite hues, forms and
colors peculiar to tropical skies. Clouds lately gorgeous, passed into
shapes still brighter, and their softness, delicacy and glory seemed to
illumine the landscapes. The grand, royal palms which carried one's
thoughts to the Holy Land and the time of our Saviour, the mountains
tipped with the moving mists, the peaceful valleys where droves of fat
cattle feasted, the gaps in the hills, the groves of fruit trees and the
flowing streams--all rested tranquilly and brightly under the belts of
gold in seas of blue and green, the tongues of fire, rivers of light,
silvery hills, purple and crimson isles, castles, vases, columns and
thrones that were traced in the clouds. No language can sufficiently
describe the beauty of this tropical region; it must be seen to be
adequately appreciated.
Night was just falling, when we arrived at Matanzas. The drive to the
Hotel de St. Francis, where I determined to stay while in the city, led
through a number of narrow and hilly streets, lined on both sides by
low, jail-like stone houses, painted as at Havana, in every imaginable
color. In the course of about twenty minutes I arrived at the hotel
which stands on the Calzada De Tirry, the principal street near the bay.
The host, Signor Juan Gonzalez, with a Scotch interpreter who knew
Spanish well, received me very heartily at the door. After passing
several refreshment saloons and reaching the office, I requested to be
shown to my room. I found that it opened, like all the others, on a
courtyard, and being the best that could be had, I agreed to remain a
guest at the house for $2.50 per day, in gold. Dinner being the next on
the programme, I soon found myself at the head of a large table, on both
sides of which a number of swarthy, black-eyed, dark-haired coolies and
Spaniards were seated. Recognizing me as a _padre cure_, all bowed and
ceased talking as I entered, exchanged courtesies and then resumed an
exciting conversation. The meal consisted of a variety of courses. The
meats were ingeniously spiced, but rather redolent of garlic. Tropical
fruits and vegetables, cooked in all manners of ways, were served up in
abundance, and each guest was treated to a bottle of Catalonian wine,
which is a very pure and favorite claret in Cuba. This wine is imported
from Spain, and a _pipe_ containing one hundred and twenty-five gallons
costs about fifty dollars in gold. When dinner was over I retired to my
room to find it containing two windows without glass, enclosed by heavy
green shutters. The plainest kind of furniture was visible in the
apartment. The bed, scantily supplied with clothing, was adorned by a
large mosquito net. Anticipating colder evenings in Matanzas than I
supposed were peculiar to Havana, owing to the former's situation on so
many hills, I requested the waiter to bring me a blanket. This article
(being rather unusually used at the Hotel de St. Francis) it took him a
long time to find. At last he procured me a peculiar specimen of one,
so, resolving to make a virtue of necessity, I placed myself under the
protection of heaven and retired to rest. After a sound sleep I was
awoke before dawn by the hopping and cooing of numerous doves, whose
cots were established not far from my bedroom. The morning soon followed
their waking, and eager to gaze on the city and its environs, I made
haste to dress and go abroad. The view which greeted my eyes the moment
I stood on the balcony outside my door, seemed to me very strange and
delightful. The sun was just rising in the east, and in such a soft and
lovely sky as the tropics only know. Its calm, golden light fell on the
city before me, and on the emerald mountains behind, giving to the
villas and gardens that sat on the hills an aspect of unearthly beauty.
The doves, finding their society invaded, flocked together and flew over
a grassy square, in the midst of which stood immense stores for sugar
and molasses. I walked down to the courtyard, admired its fountain,
gold-fish, peacock, and tame flamingo. All in the hotel were up before I
rose from bed. Cubans take advantage of the early morning, as it is much
cooler, and consequently pleasanter to work then than later on in the
day. Each guest enjoys a cup of coffee after getting up and takes
breakfast about ten o'clock. The coffee in Cuba is well made, and has a
most delicious aroma. After taking a cup I went out and saw the street
alive with Chinese laborers, who were employed by the city in making
extensive repairs. I sauntered towards the Church de San Carlos to hear
Mass. On crossing the bridge that spans the San Juan River, which shone
in the sunlight as it flowed into the sea, I observed curious-shaped
boats, lighters and other craft moving on it, all occupied by
queerly-dressed, bronzed, bustling men. Numerous drays and strings of
packed mules, carrying heavily laden panniers, raised clouds of dust,
from which I was glad to escape on entering the narrow streets near the
church. Over the doors of the stores were the customary fancy signs and
names. There seemed to be no end to the picturesque street-venders even
at this early hour of the morning. A Chinaman, dressed in loose, blue
shirt and yellow trousers, passed with a long, flat box on his head,
striking it loudly with a short, thick stick, and crying out, "dulces,
dulces,"--"sweet meats, sweet meats." A _panadero_ (baker) balanced on
his cranium a big basket full of rolls, and carried on each arm also a
palm-leaved bag full of bread. A tall negress turned a corner, holding a
weighty basket, and shouting out at the top of her voice, "Naranges,
dulces, naranges, dulces," "sweet oranges, sweet oranges." Soldiers,
lottery-ticket venders, and an occasional negro _calasero_ dressed in
gorgeous blue jacket, fringed with gold, jack boots reaching to the
hips, high silk hat and silver-plated spurs, lent variety to the scene.
I soon saw the church of San Carlos, a large building of dark stone,
with two lofty towers, one of which had a splendid chime of bells. The
edifice within was long and high; its gigantic pillars and great marble
altar looked very imposing. When the service was over I returned to my
hotel, intending to visit the priests after breakfast. When the meal was
despatched, eleven o'clock found me in the presence of Father Francisco
de P. Barnada, Cura Vicario Parroco Ecclesiastico, and Phro Jose Saenz,
one of his assistants. Being a stranger, the pastor had some slight
suspicions about my orthodoxy; but these were soon dispelled when he
read my letters of introduction. I could see at once that, though
strict, he was a very cheerful, hospitable gentleman. His bright and
pleasing features indicated the presence of a brilliant mind and a
tender heart. Father Jose Saenz was the life and soul of cheerfulness
and kindness. I found myself at home immediately with these excellent
priests, and we chatted together very pleasantly for about an hour, on a
variety of subjects. Bits of Latin, English and Spanish were our
channels of expression. The quarters of the priests were simple, but
comfortable, and communicated directly with the church.
On suggesting that I would like to see the famous valley of the Yumuri,
Father Barnada had me introduced to an engaging and intelligent young
Cuban named Signor Joaquin Mariano, who volunteered at once to accompany
me on my ramble.
The most interesting though longest way to the valley is to walk along
the banks of the Yumuri River from a point a little above the beautiful
bridge near that part of the town called Versailles. Here the costly and
grand church of St. Peter's can be seen rising, with its beautiful
spires, above every other building. On our way to the valley we were at
first obliged to pass objects not very inviting, such as city rubbish,
luxuriant weeds, yelping dogs, grunting pigs, tanneries and dilapidated
houses; but these soon yielded to grassy lanes, charmingly picturesque
little dwellings perched on rocks in regular staircase position, and
gardens full of exquisite fruit trees and flowers. The road is now
perfectly clean and level, edged on one side by the bright, placid
river, and on the other by steep rocks and quarries, in the cool nooks
of which large, lovely ferns, air plants, and numerous wild flowers
bloom. Here we noticed a handsome private residence, fronted by a stone
wall crowned with cacti, and guarded at the rear by stupendous cliffs.
Sago and date palms grew near the narrow road. We saw tremendous
openings in the bare-ribbed mountains on the other edge of the stream.
Pieces of rock overhead looked down like dead sea-lions and quarters of
beef. Blossoms of every hue peeped out through the old black rocks
beside us; millions of insects rushed pell-mell out of the crevices of
the shining stone, and while we looked, the breeze from the rippling
river shook millions of neighboring flowers, scattered their perfumes
broadcast, and thus afforded us an exquisite treat away from the heat,
dust, and noise of the city. Gazing up, we saw birds' nests in the limbs
of trees, naked roots of large bushes and vines clinging like net-work
to their rocky bed, and century plants growing in profusion where they
could scarcely get an inch of soil. These cliffs must have been two
hundred feet high, and on looking up one would imagine that the almost
disjointed masses of hanging rock would fall down at any moment and
crush us to pieces. Turkey buzzards, with their black bodies and pink
bills, were screaming overhead on the tops of big limbs, and anxiously
looking out for prey. The fair blue sky above looked down on the lines
of green, wild shrubs that flourished amid beds of solid rock. Sun and
candelabra flowers, big as cups and orange in hue, with stalks like the
bananas or Indian corn, sprung out of the cliffs to the height of twenty
feet. Morning glories, rare lichens, violets, dresinas, and century
plants grew by their side, while the silky Spanish moss, suspended from
a higher point, threw a veil of beauty over all. A curve in the walk
brought us into the valley. On the other side of the river we saw
sand-hills crowned with emerald mountains and groves of palm. The plain,
as far as it could be seen, was one sheet of verdure, and the stream
widening at this point into a lake, was adorned with woody islands.
Birds, breezes and the echoes of the hammer's sound in the quarries
supplied natural music. As far as the eye could see, the valley was
surrounded by mountains. The lofty, rocky wall continued to the left,
exposing to our view its beautiful cream-colored layers of granite,
fringed with lichens and ferns, and surrounded by weirdly-carved roots
and branches of gray stone. All before us looked charming. The narrow
foot-path in the long grass, the wild flowers everywhere, the old kiln,
embraced by parasites, convolvulus and jasmines, the brushwood rustling
with little reptiles, the flying fish in the stream, an old negro
rolling a barrow full of leaves, the Indian mounds having figures of
lions and human heads carved out of the rock, the ever-royal palm with
its mistletoes and berries, its blood-red tassels on the smooth, hard
trunk, its long, feathery leaves, ever falling like ribbons or streamers
into various situations by the force of the breeze; all, all looked
beautiful. And to add to our delight the sounds of the Angelus from the
tower of the church of Monserrat, at the top of the mountain at hand
came down on our ears like music from heaven. The mountains around this
valley of peace seemed to echo the melodies of God. The cross on the
beautiful Corinthian Church, shone between the hills and the sky,
reminding us of Him who died for us, and who holds all creation in His
hands. All the lovely objects in this tropical vale seemed to murmur His
praises. The palms reminded us of His wanderings in the desert, when a
child, of His domestic life at Nazareth, and His latter years in and
around Jerusalem and Galilee.
Our course now led through winding walks under waving palms, by a house
in the rocks, past doves, ducks, chickens, arches, arbors, flowering
thickets, wild lime, sour orange and paw-paw trees. We inhaled the most
delicious fragrance at every step. On emerging from the glades into an
open field, we began to climb the hill to the church of Monserrat. As we
ascended, the view of the valley grew wider. Scenes, unobserved from the
level, now appeared enriching the picture. We crept rather than walked
up the great hill, at one time gazing upon gullies and wells, at
another, admiring big beautiful berries, but ever and anon pausing to
take in the view of the vale. When the summit of the Cumbre was gained,
I felt well rewarded for my toil, for never before did I see a landscape
so brimful of poetry and repose. There it lay extending in every
direction for miles, bounded on all sides by mountains with picturesque
gaps, spurs, peaks and openings; it seemed to me more like a scene in a
dream than a reality,--the character of the prospect was so ethereal, a
fit retreat for celestials,--lovelier than the most delightful panorama.
Still, it was a reality, and not a painting of indescribably happy
combinations of contrasts in color, vegetation, lights, shadows, and
forms, like the garden of Eden, and far fairer than the happy valley
described in Rasselas. The Yumuri River flowed through it looking like a
silver thread. Billowy fields of cane, rich pastures, clumps of
feathery palms and shrubs with golden flowers adorned the vale. It is
like a glimpse of Paradise to see it at sunset.
I turned with regret from this feast of nature, and walked with my
companion along the extensive plateau on which the church and other
buildings stood. A venerable, mild-looking old gentleman approached us.
He was Migael Darna, the sexton and bell-ringer of Monserrat, living
like a hermit on the top of the Cumbre. A handsome little boy with dark
eyes and coal-black hair accompanied him. This was his son, of whom he
seemed to be very fond. At a sign from Migael we entered the church. Its
interior, like the outside, was very pretty. Behind the altar and around
the side walls of the sanctuary stood a miniature mountain of cork, on
the top of which rested a statue of the Blessed Virgin resembling the
image supposed to be made by St. Luke, which graces the monastery of
Monserrat in Spain. Flowers and gifts of various kinds were attached to
the cork by faithful doners. On our way to the tower, I could see from
the clever manner in which young Darna played the organ, that on the
hills his father had not neglected his musical education.
After gaining the top we beheld a prospect, which, for grandeur and
extent, could scarcely be surpassed. The valley to the left looked even
more mysteriously enchanting than before, owing to its greater distance
and depth. On the right the glorious ocean burst upon us, its blue and
green waters in some places as smooth as glass, in others worked up into
angry billows. We saw the ships in the bay, the coral reefs washed by
the waves--the city with its sloping streets, quaint, gaudy buildings
and villas resting below us like lords looking down on the scene. In
front we observed brown, grassy, shrubby hills, cliffs, precipices and
vast fastnesses. Behind us flowed the San Juan River by low, rich
meadows, past numerous houses till it rested in the sea. Beyond appeared
a chain of mountains, whose dark-blue peaks were almost lost in the
clouds. The view of the country and city from the tower of this church
is certainly the finest in all Cuba, and it was with the greatest
reluctance that I turned from it to follow my companions down stairs.
Bidding good-by to Migael, Signor Mariano and myself descended to the
city over a grassy road, full of blue, white and yellow flowers. We
noticed on one of the lowest slopes of the Cumbre one of the handsomest
villas in Matanzas built in the midst of gardens, and surrounded by a
pretty stone wall. Numerous statues and fountains adorned the grounds.
Signor Mariano, being acquainted with the family, offered to introduce
me. We were received at the door of this fine stone villa by Signora
Torres who is regarded by the priests and people of Matanzas as the
foremost Catholic lady in the city. The recent death of her husband and
brother sorely afflicted her, but she endured this trial with Christian
fortitude, and an ever-present desire to please and do good could
readily be noticed even in the midst of her sorrow. As we moved through
the house, I admired the lofty ceilings, handsome stained-glass windows,
black and white marble floors, and splendid furniture that graced the
several apartments. Coolness and shade, so desirable in the tropics,
reigned here, and were rendered further agreeable by the sight of
occasional rosy beams, the odor of flowers and songs of birds. The rich
antique vases and fine old paintings on the the wall looked very
beautiful. The most precious woods of the island were seen in the
wainscoting and furniture. The chapel looked a rich and graceful little
temple. All the rarest valuables seemed to be reserved for here. When
the chaplain is home (as he generally is) Mass is celebrated in the
villa every morning.
After saying a little prayer, we walked out on the front piazza. This
had a fine tiled floor and several pretty iron seats and sofas. Its
numerous vases were full of flowers. Its balustrades were of stone, with
blue and gold, porcelain finish. Rustic baskets hung around it in
appropriate numbers and graceful order. It faced the city and the bay.
Down in the garden were all kinds of fruits and flowers. Oranges,
bananas, pomegranates, caimetoes, pineapples, oleanders, cacti, allspice
trees, enormous fuchsias, canicas, kaladiums, and numerous other
varieties, bloomed in abundance, each and all emitting a fragrance quite
irresistible. Prince Alexis of Russia, while on his visit to Matanzas,
spent a few weeks in this villa and garden. He could not have selected a
more charming spot in Cuba. As time was precious, we took our leave,
thanking the good Senora for her kindness, and pursued our journey down
the hill. On the right and left of us were high walls of calcareous
rock, over the tops of which hung thousands of brilliant, sweet-scented
flowers. The Casus de Benefecentia, a long, yellow stone building, with
great pillars and piers, rested on a hill a short distance away, and on
the edge of the street on which we walked, stood the handsome, sky-blue
dwelling of a _cure_, who was attached to a charitable institution
conducted by the sisters. I visited these buildings on an after
occasion, accompanied by two priests, and was greatly edified and
delighted with all I saw in them. Before we came to the Church of St.
Carlos, we passed through the Plaza de Armas, the most beautiful square
in Matanzas. A magnificent fountain ornamented the centre of a circular
row of palms. Numerous fragrant shrubs and flowers flourished near at
hand, and iron seats were provided for all who wished to rest. Beautiful
stores and private dwellings line the enclosure, which is surrounded by
gas lamps, sofas and wide-paved walks. The palace of the _comandant_, or
governor, of the department, is situated on the east side. The Licco, or
lyceum and club-house, stand on the north. The military band plays in
the Plaza on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday evenings. Thither all classes
come then to hear the music, observe the fashions, form acquaintances,
and chat with friends. On our arrival at the priest's house, Padre
Barnada invited me to celebrate Mass, in the church, on the following
morning (Ash Wednesday). I cheerfully consented, and then took my leave,
intending to see more of the town. The attractions of Matanzas are
greatly marred by the clouds of dust that are almost constantly
drifting. As rain seldom falls the streets become very dry, and the
steady passing and repassing of mules and heavy ox-carts, laden with
sugar and molasses, cause the calcareous sand to rise and envelop
everything. The Chinaman occupies a conspicuous place in the life scenes
of Matanzas. He can be readily recognized whether attired in the long,
loose, shabby shirt of the laborer, or the citizen's dress of the
storekeeper. His peculiar gait, hair and countenance are very
characteristic. He associates familiarly with the negro, is zealous,
parsimonious, and so sensitive that he will even kill himself if he
becomes incapable of revenging an insult. Most of these people in Cuba
remain in a beastly state of degradation, while others of the race rise
in the ranks, own elegant stores, and other establishments. A certain
Chinaman in Havana owns the finest silk establishment in that city.
Another keeps a hotel in Matanzas, styled the "Flower of America." Their
diet chiefly consists of rice, fruit and vegetables. They are generally
vaccinated on the tip of the nose. Chinese free railroad hands receive
sixty dollars per month, in currency, and street laborers get twelve
reals a day.