# The Homes of the New World/Letter XXXV.

LETTER XXXV.
Havannah, April 15th.
Good morning once more, my little heart, in Havannah, where I am excellently lodged in Mr. Woolcott's good hotel, Havannah House, and where I am now able to live cheaper than at first, because the flood of travellers has now somewhat withdrawn, and there is plenty of room. I have again my former little room with its outlet on the roof, and the clever, good-tempered Mrs. Mary to look after me, and a black Rosetta with splendid eyes and a cheerful smile to wait upon me as a second servant. The good F.'s have also again invited me to take up my former quarters in their house; but the house is full of children and guests, and I will not abuse their hospitality; besides, I so infinitely enjoy my solitude and my liberty.
This is Maunday-Thursday, a great holiday in the Christian Church, and I have this morning visited two churches in the city. There was great pomp in them. Ladies, dressed as for a ball, knelt upon splendid mats in silk attire, and satin shoes, jewels, gold ornaments, and flowers, with bare neck and arms, and everywhere the transparent black mantillas, and everywhere glittering, waving fans. Quite young girls even were so tricked out. And all around them stood gentlemen contemplating the ladies through their lorgnettes. The sight of all these adorned, only half-veiled women of all colours—for mulattoes also, very splendidly attired and with magnificent figures, were among them—prostrated in crowds on their knees in the centre aisle of the church from the very end to the altar, is really beautiful, especially as the eyes and busts of the Spanish women are generally remarkably lovely. But the want of earnestness in everything, excepting in vanity and the wish to be admired, was very striking, ​especially on a day such as this—the day of the Lord's Supper, that calm, unpretending, solemn day of initiation to the highest and holiest life of humanity. I called to remembrance a Maunday-Thursday in St. Jacob's Church at Stockholm; there simply called “Going to the Lord's Supper.” Whole families assemble—father, mother and children, assemble to drink together from the cup. I remembered the silence, the calm, deep devotion of all who filled that crowded church!
There is but one general voice in Cuba, among the strangers of various nations dwelling there, of the entire want of religious life on the island. The clergy live in open defiance of their vows; are respected by no one, nor deserve to be so; nor does morality stand any higher than religion.
“There is plenty of love and passion at Cuba,” said a thoughtful young man, a resident there, to me, “but it is more frequently on the side of vice than of virtue.”
The god of money is blindly worshipped. It is very seldom that a marriage takes place in which he has not been consulted before any other. Ladies who remain unmarried seldom continue blameless in their lives. Unmarried men never are so.
People come to this beautiful island, like parasites, merely to suck its life and live at its expense. But it avenges itself, flings around them its hundred-fold, oppressive, snake-like arms, drags them down, suffocates their higher life, and changes them into a corpse in its embrace.
In the evening.—I have again visited three or four churches. They are splendidly illuminated this evening, especially the choirs and around the altar-pieces. They were less crowded than at morning mass, and now principally by a lower class of people. Several seemed to be kneeling and praying with devotion. There sate, one on each side the entrance of the cathedral, two ​magnificent Spanish dames entirely covered with jewels, each with a table before her, upon which a collection was made for the poor. One single jewel from all their splendour would richly have outweighed all the offerings of those humble people. I passed in and out without impediment, mingled with the crowds in the churches, or with the crowds in the streets, and all was peaceable and quiet. The appearance was of a people going about to amuse themselves. From this moment to Easter Sunday morning at about nine o'clock, a profound stillness prevails in Havannah; not a single volante is seen in the streets. To-morrow afternoon they will be occupied by a great procession.
Easter Sunday.—I witnessed the procession the day before yesterday, with two American acquaintances, from the piazza of La Plaza de Armas. Ladies dressed as for a ball, white, yellow, brown, and black, attended by gentlemen, filled the square early in the afternoon, walking about, talking, and laughing. The mulatto ladies were particularly distinguishable by their showiness, brilliant flowers and ornaments in their hair and in their bosoms, and in these they flaunted about in the style of proud peacocks. It was evident that people were expecting a splendid show. In the twilight the procession approached with candles and blazing torches. The figure of the dead Christ is borne along lying upon a state-bed beneath an immense chandelier which lights up the pale, noble, wax countenance. Mary weeping, is borne after, in a gold-embroidered mantle, and with a golden crown on her head; and Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, have also their magnificent garments. The procession was large, and not without a certain pomp and dignity. Among those who took part in the procession I observed a number of negroes with large white scarfs bound across the breast and shoulders. I was told that they belonged to a kind of order of free-masons, who attached themselves ​to the church by the exercise of deeds of mercy, taking care of hospitals, &c.
Thousands of people streamed gaily along the streets and squares, and the coloured portion especially brilliant, in all the colours of the rainbow. It was a splendid spectacle, but not at all suitable for the occasion. Not a particle of seriousness was observable among the masses of people. It was very evident by this procession that religion was dead in Cuba!
Nevertheless, yesterday was a great fast, and a deep stillness prevailed throughout the lively Havannah. This morning the image of the arisen Christ was borne in great procession from the cathedral to the Church of St. Catalina; and from St. Catalina in the meantime another procession was advancing, the weeping Mary Magdalene seeking for Christ. When the processions meet, and it is proclaimed that Mary Magdalene has met Christ, a shot is fired, and all the bells of the churches begin to ring, flags to wave in the harbour and on the church towers, and trumpets to be blown. The fast is at an end. Volantes drive out of the gates, and negroes rush about also, shouting and laughing; a thoughtless, universal jubilation at once begins.
During all this I quietly betook myself to my favourite Cortina de Valdez. It was the loveliest morning that could be imagined. The bright-blue sea agitated by the wind flung itself in lofty, silvery-crested waves around the feet of the rocks of Morro, and the flags in the harbour fluttered cheerfully in the morning breeze. The atmosphere was full of regenerated life. White doves flew down to the white marble basin, and drank of its fresh spring waters; little green lizards darted about on the wall, with love and delight; and as I walked along, my soul uttered these words:—
* She walks along lonely,
* She comes from a foreign land; ​
* She is distant from friends and from kindred;
* She walks along lowly,
* Lonely she walks among strangers;
* They of her having no knowledge,
* She not knowing them;
* They look upon her
* With cold and indifferent glances.
* Yet still her spirit
* O'erfloweth with joy,
* With bliss gusheth over,
* And bright are her eyes,
* With warm tears of gladness.
* She has one friend,
* One friend who was dead,
* And he has arisen,
* And this is his day of arising,
* The morning of Easter!
* And fresh living breezes,
* And the bright sun ascending,
* And the ringing of church-bells,
* And the fluttering of banners,
* And flowers unfolding,
* And twittering of lizards,
* And the beating of drums,
* And the blaring of trumpets,
* And the great ocean,
* And white doves which drink at the rim of the fountain;
* They all speak of Him,
* They all bear His name,
* That name so beloved,
* And His name by the whole world is borne!
April 20th.—Your birthday! Blessings on the day which gave me my dear friend! I cannot to-day present you with flowers, but I can sit down in thought with you, and tell you the history of the day, which was to me parti-coloured, but amusing, and which will perhaps amuse you more than a bouquet.
Two American gentlemen, of the chivalric species, whom I hope our Lord will bless with man's best reward—good and beautiful wives—had taken charge of me and my effects when I came by railway from Matanzas to Havannah, and conducted me and mine, safe and sound, to Havannah House. One of them, who has resided much in ​Cuba, Texas, and Mexico, and who has, in consequence, a touch of the Spaniards' grace of speech and manner, has since that time been a very agreeable companion to me, and I have to thank him for presenting me, through conversation, with living pictures of the scenery, population, and manners, of these Southern lands. The other, Mr. F., a merchant of New York, is grave and simple in his manners, one of those men with whom I always am at ease, and to whom I feel a sort of sisterly relationship.
This gentleman has accompanied me with noble American simplicity, and as kindly and with as little sense of impropriety as if he had been a brother, in various of my little excursions, making all the needful arrangements for me in the pleasantest manner. Thus we took a sail together to-day in the beautiful bay, crossed over to the heights Casa Blanca, which are covered with the wild candelabra-like aloes, and saw from thence a glorious sunset; after which we rowed round in the dark, clear shadows of the hills on the water, and saw it drip in gold and silver drops from the oars. It was a beautiful excursion, which had only one shadow, that was the company of a German gentleman, who had a great deal of that imperiousness which one frequently finds in European gentlemen, but seldom or never in Americans. His inflated manner formed on this occasion a great contrast to the single-mindedness of the American, who, in his simplicity, was so far his superior. But this is merely en passant.
I was in reality going to tell you of a visit which I and my two American gentlemen had made to the Cabildos de Negros, or to the assemblies of the free negroes of the city. It was not possible for me to go alone. These two gentlemen offered to escort me, and Mr. C., who spoke Spanish like a native, undertook to obtain admission for us, although the free negroes, in general, do not admit of ​the whites in their society, nor are they by any means so patient or so much under restraint as in the United States.
As these clubs generally meet in the afternoons and evenings of the Sunday, we set off in the afternoon to the street in which the Cabildos are situated, for they occupy a whole street near one of the toll-gates of the city. The whole street swarmed with negroes, some decked out with ribbons and bells, some dancing, others standing in groups here and there. There prevailed a wild but not rude sort of lawlessness, and on all hands, near and afar off, was heard the gay, measured beat of the African drum. Round the gates of the different halls were collected groups of white people, most of them evidently sailors, who were endeavouring to get sight of what was passing inside; but a couple of negroes stationed at each with sticks in their hands, kept the entrance closed with good-tempered determination, and did not allow the doors to open beyond half-way.
By some means, however, Mr. C. succeeded in getting his head within the door of the Luccomees' Cabildo, and then requested permission for la Signora to enter. Some negro heads peeped out, and when they saw my white bonnet and veil, and the flowers which I wore—for I adorn myself more with flowers here than in Sweden—they looked kind, and granted permission per la Signora, and the gentlemen also who accompanied her were allowed to enter; but the door was immediately closed to various others who wished to thrust in after us.
Chairs were offered to us, not far from the door; we were presented to the queen and the king of the assembly, who made demonstrations of good will, and we were then left to look about us in quiet.
The room was tolerably large, and might contain about one hundred persons. On the wall just opposite to us was painted a crown, and a throne with a canopy over it. ​There stood the seats of the king and queen. The customary dancing was going forward in front of this seat. One woman danced alone, under a canopy supported by four people. Her dancing must have given great delight,—though it was not very different from that of the negro ladies, which I have already described—for all kinds of handkerchiefs were hanging about her, and a hat even, had been placed upon her head. The women danced on this occasion with each other, and the men with the men; some struck the doors and benches with sticks, others rattled gourds filled with stones, and the drums thundered with deafening power. They were apparently endeavouring to make as much noise as possible. Whilst this was going on, a figure was seen advancing with a scarlet hat upon his head, and with a great number of glittering strings of beads round his neck, arms, and body, which was naked to the waist, from which hung scarlet skirts. This figure, before which the people parted to each side, approached me, bowing all the time, and as he did so the whole upper portion of his body seemed to move in snake-like folds. Still making these serpentine movements, he stood before me with extended hands, I being not at all certain whether he was inviting me to dance, or what was the meaning of his apparently friendly grimaces, and his great black outstretched hands. At length he uttered, with other words, “per la bonita!” and I comprehended that all his bowings and bedizenment were intended as a compliment to me, and I made my reply by shaking one of the black hands, and placing within it a silver coin, after which we exchanged friendly gestures, and my friend made a serpentine retreat, and began to dance on his own account, receiving great applause from the bystanders. A great number of negroes were sitting on the benches, many of whose countenances were earnest, and remarkably agreeable. The Luccomees have, in general, beautiful oval countenances, good foreheads and noses, well-formed ​mouths, and the most beautiful teeth. They look less good-humoured and gay than the other negro tribes, but have evidently more character and intelligence. The nation is regarded as rich, in consequence of the great prizes which it has won in the lottery, and this wealth it is said to apply to a good use—the purchasing the freedom of slaves of this tribe.
These Cabildos are governed, as I have already said, by queens, one or two, who decide upon the amusements, give tone to the society, and determine its extension. They possess the right of electing a king, who manages the pecuniary affairs of the society, and who has under him a secretary and master of the ceremonies. The latter presented me with a small printed card, which gave admission to the “Cabildo de Señora Santa Barbara de la nation Lucumi Alagua.”
After this, and when we had made a little offering to the treasury of the society, we took our departure, in order to visit other cabildos. And in all cases they were so polite as to give free access to la Signora, la bonita, and her companions. I do not know whether this politeness is to be attributed to the negro-character, or to the Spanish influence upon it, but am inclined to believe the latter.
I was received in the Cabildo de Gangas by the two Queens, two young and very pretty black girls, dressed in perfectly good French taste, in pink gauze dresses, and beautiful bouquets of artificial roses in their bosoms and their hair; they both smoked cigarettes. They took me kindly each by the hand, seated me between them, and continued to smoke with Spanish gravity. One of them had the very loveliest eyes imaginable, both in form and expression. On the wall opposite to us, was a large and ​well-painted leopard, probably the symbol of the nation. There were also some Catholic pictures and symbols in the hall. I here saw a whole group of women moving in a kind of dance, like galvanised frogs, but with slower action, bowing and twisting their bodies and all their joints without any meaning or purpose that I could discover. It seemed to be the expression of some kind of animal satisfaction; it had also the appearance as if they were seeking for something in the dark. And the poor benighted people may be said to be still seeking—their true life's joy, their life beyond that of Nature.
They seem, however, to have approached nearer to this in the States of North America. I thought of that nocturnal camp-meeting in the forest, by the light of the fire-altars, and of the melodious hymns which sounded from the camp of the negroes!
I saw in another Cabildo de Gangos that same irregular, serpentine dance, danced in circles and rows both by men and women around one another. I saw again, also, in a Cabildo de Congos, the Congo-dance, as I had seen it in the bohea, at St. Amelia, and another which seemed to be a mixture of the Spanish-Creole dance, Yuca and Congo dance. There is considerably more animation in the latter dances than in the former, as well as more art and poetical feeling. The symbol painted upon the wall of this room was a sun with a human face. Here also were several Christian symbols and pictures. But even here also, the Christianised and truly Christian Africans retain somewhat of the superstition and idolatry of their native land. The Congo and Ganga nations seem to me born of a more careless temperament and have a more animal appearance than the Luccomees.
I visited two other Cabildos, but did not find any new features of interest, and finally I was heartily wearied by the noise, and the rattling, and the bustle, and the dust, and the chaotic disorder in the dancing, and in the ​movements of their assemblies. I longed for pure air and clear water, and to gratify my longing Mr. F. drove me in his volante to Havannah harbour.
It was sunset. We inquired for our friend, the boatman of the former evening, Rafael Hernandez, who soon made his appearance with his splendid boat, La Leonora Rosita, and rowed us out into the harbour.
Ah! how beautiful, in that tranquil, resplendent evening to row softly along that palm-decorated shore, and silently to inhale the pure air, and to contemplate the soft, clear colouring of every object. The glowing blush of evening tinged all. Presently the lamps were lighted on the quay la Alameda di Paula, and other places along the harbour. These lit up the shore and the water with a wonderfully pure and clear splendour. It seems to me as if light and air here possessed sound and melody; I hear, as it were, their purity, whilst it strikes upon my eye. And now, I felt as if I had come out of chaos into the world of pure light and harmony. But, of a truth, what ball-room would not have seemed to me dusty and stifling when compared with this rotunda of nature beneath the heaven of Cuba.
I asked our boatman—who spoke English as well as Spanish—whether he was satisfied with his condition in life, he shook his head: “Things were going dreadfully with him; he should find himself compelled some fine morning to run away both from boat and city.”
“You smoke too many cigarettos, Hernandez!” said I.
“Only twenty a day, Signora!” said he, and shrugged his shoulders.
April 22nd.—Good morning, my beloved child: I get on charmingly now at the hotel. I have full freedom, have everything excellent, and the good Mrs. Mary does not let me want for anything. Early in the morning I go out to walk on my favourite Cortina; watch the waves ​breaking against the rocks of Morro; inhale the sea-breezes, converse with the naiads; visit a church or two; look at the pomp there, listen to the music, then go home across La Plaza de Armas, where I linger awhile to study the monument to Columbus which I afterwards at home sketch into my book: but I am obliged to make my observations very warily, for the military on the Square are already beginning to watch me. They suspect that I am plotting an invasion.
Late in the evening, I walk about on the azotea among the urns, and watch the moon and the Morro-light emulating each other in lighting up the city and the sea, and watch the Southern Cross rise in quiet majesty above the horizon; whilst towards the northern star which shows out at sea, I always cast a friendly glance. The roar of the sea comes to me, from the side of Morro, and the gay sound of military music from La Plaza de Armas. Later in the night, the harmonious air and sounds are broken in upon by the Serenos, or fire-watchmen of Havannah, who sing so—that it really would be deplorable if it were not so extremely ludicrous. I never before heard such a succession of false, jaw-breaking, inharmonious tones. I cannot get angry with them for laughing.
I go to my friends, the F's., generally for an hour every morning, to paint the portrait of Mrs. F., which I wish to possess, in memory of one of the best, most motherly women in the world.
Whilst I am thus occupied, she tells me the experience of her life-time as regards the negro-character. Her observations agree in the main with those of Mrs. P. Mrs. F. says, as she does, “that there is a great difference in the characters and tempers of the negroes, as is the case among the white races, but that they are in general more accessible than these to the sentiment of attachment, of tenderness, and gratitude. The whites make a great mistake when they accuse the negroes of ingratitude. They ​make them slaves, they demand incessant labour from them, and require after that that they should be grateful. Grateful for what? They who wish really to be the negro's friend will find him grateful and noble-minded. I have had both black and white nurses for my children, but with the black only have I been perfectly satisfied.”
An affecting proof of love and strength of character among the negroes was related to me, in the history of a young negro couple who loved each other, without being able to marry, because the master of the young negro-woman obstinately refused to consent to her marriage. Love, however, had had its way, and the young lovers had a child. The master of the negro-woman, in a fury of anger at this discovery, forbade her again to see the young man, or he to see his child. The young negro was in service at Mrs. F.'s; he was an excellent young man, with one only fault—he loved liquor, and not unfrequently allowed himself to be overcome by it; and this propensity increased all the more, now that the sorrow of not being able to see his wife and little boy often almost drove him to despair. Mrs. F. said to him,
“If you will break yourself of this habit of strong drink, I will allow you a peso a week, and lay the money by for you, and with it you may, in time, buy the freedom of your child.”
From this moment the man became perfectly sober, and persevered in being so for many months. After this time of trial, Mrs. F. paid him the money which she had promised, and added to it, in order, said she, to show him her esteem and satisfaction, as much more as was necessary to purchase the freedom of the child. He kissed her hand with joy and tears of gratitude; he was beside himself with happiness and with the prospect which was afforded him of sometime being able to purchase the freedom of the child's mother also, and being united to her. This was now in progress of accomplishment. In the meantime the ​parents and the child had secret meetings, and their love was as heartfelt, as romantically warm and steadfast, as that which any novel-writer describes between his heroes and heroines.
Mrs. F. confirmed all that I had already heard of the kindness of the Spanish masters to their domestic slaves, and the care which they take of them in their old age.
But if the domestic slaves are commonly well treated, the slaves on the plantations are, in a general way, quite the reverse; they are looked upon not as human beings but as beasts of burden, and are treated with greater severity than these.
The house of the F.'s is now altogether full of love, music, and mirth. Young Louisa F. is married, and will, although still hardly more than a child, now become mistress of her own household.
I have been sorely tempted just now by a journey to Jamaica and thence to Mexico, which would have been by no means difficult of accomplishment. But time and—besides, I should not in Jamaica, in Central America, nor yet in South America, see anything essentially different in vegetation, population, manners, mode of building, or in any other way different to what I see in Cuba, under the tropical heavens and the dominion of the Spaniards. And this was essential to me for my picture of the New World. I have now received a clear impression of its southern hemisphere. Books and engravings will help me to see the difference.
And that they already do. I have seen at Mr. F.'s, engravings of Mexico and other cities of Spanish America, which seem to me merely repetitions of Havannah. And in Prescott's excellent history of the conquest of Mexico and Peru, I have become acquainted with the highlands of these countries, as well as with the noble Aztecs who once dwelt there.
Christian Aztecs must one day rule over these glorious ​countries, and, upon their noble heathen foundation, erect a new temple, a new community which shall, in spirit and in truth, make them the highlands of the world.
I have beheld the countenance of the earth beneath the the sun's warmest beams, where they call forth palms and coffee-shrubs. I know the circumstances of every-day human life there, its pleasures and its miseries. I have comprehended this new page in the book of creation and the life of nature. I have enjoyed and been grateful. And after two weeks longer stay in Cuba, to see Madame C., and the paradisiacal regions of the Caffatal to the east of Havannah, I shall turn from the tropics and the palms once more towards the United States, and in the course of a few months hope to see again Sweden, you, and all my dear ones. Believe me, the home of the pine-tree is my home, dearer to me than the palm-groves here. Here I could not live after all!