In the Courts of Memory 1858 1875. by L. de Hegermann Lindencrone

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The charge of musketry which followed was deafening, though only gentlemen
clapped their hands; ladies don't rise to such exertion in Cuba. I sang
"Beware!" as a parting salute. The Captain of the Port came up, flushed
with pride, and said, in his best English, "I am all proudness!"

_Panelas_ (large pieces of frosted sugar, to be melted in water) and
other sweets were passed about at intervals.

Shaking hands is a great institution here. No one wears gloves except at
the opera, so that one's hands are in a perpetual state of fermentation,
especially after one of these functions, when making acquaintances,
expressing thanks, and everything else are done through the medium of the
hands. One can literally say that one wrings one's hands.

We, as the distinguished guests, were led into the supper-room very
ceremoniously, and put among the higher strata of society. The buffet was
overflowing with Cuban delicacies and _dulces_. I reveled in the fruit and
left the viands severely alone.

After supper we went into the ball-room, and saw for the first time the
Cuban waltz, otherwise called _Habanera_, a curious dance something
between a shuffle and a languid glide. The dancers hardly move from the
same spot, or at most keep in a very small circle, probably on account of
the heat and exertion; and then the dispersing of so much powder, with
which every lady covers herself and gets rid of when she moves, has to be
considered.

The music has a peculiar measure; I have never heard anything like it
before. The instruments seemed mostly to be violins, flutes, clarinets,
and a small drum. The bass is very rhythmical and deep, whereas the thin
tones of the other instruments are on the very highest notes, which leaves
a gap between the upper and lower tones, making such a peculiar effect
that the music pursues and haunts you even in your dreams.

We bade our host and hostess good night and, followed by the Captain of
the Port, who now was not only "all proudness," but full of
"responsibilitiveness," left the palace. In passing the music-room I took
a farewell look at the bulgy bed-pillow, which was still reposing on the
music-stool.

CUBA, _February._

DEAR MAMA,--You have no idea of the heat here. I never felt anything so
scorching as it was to-day. Let me tell you what happened.

General Lliano came in the morning to ask what Havana could show me. I
answered that above all things I wanted to see Morro Castle. He replied
that Morro Castle was mine, and that I had only to fix the time and he
would take us there.

I did fix it, and fixed it at two o'clock, as a fit hour to visit the
_Cabaña_. I noticed the look of blank despair on our friend's face,
but, not knowing that all Cuba slept between the hours of two and five, I
did not realize the piteousness of it. General Lliano begged the Captain
of the Port, Señor Català, to accompany us, and both of these gentlemen
came in full uniform, as well as their aides-de-camp.

The Captain's trim little boat was at the wharf near our hotel, and we
were rowed over by the governmental crew to the opposite shore, and were
met by the Governor of Morro Castle at the landing in the most sweltering
heat. I had not forgotten to take the precaution, which anywhere else
would have been appropriate, to carry extra wraps, as I told Laura that
they were necessary for every water excursion. You may imagine the _de-
trop_-ness of these articles when the thermometer was up at one hundred
and twenty in the shade.

We were taken about conscientiously and shown all that there was to be
seen: all the dungeon-cells and subterranean passages, and up the hill to
see the view, which was very extended and very beautiful. From there we
went to the Governor's house, where we were greeted by his wife and
daughter, the wife stiff in black moiré (I mean the moiré was stiff, not
she). He placed himself, his wife and daughter, and his mansion at my
disposal. I would not have minded taking the old gentleman; but I
absolutely refused the lady and the moiré dress.

_Dulces_ were served and some unappetizing-looking ices, which tasted
better than they looked. Cakes also were offered us, of which I picked out
those which had the least mauve and yellow coatings. When we were
presented with some stiff little bouquets we thought it was a signal for
departure, and bade adieu to the black moiré and the fast-melting ices.

From the _Cabaña_ we walked along the macadamized road to the Morro
Castle, a long distance it seemed to me in the heat; but we left the hard
and glaring road and walked over the grass, following the line of the
subterranean passage, which made a sort of mound, and finally reached
Morro Castle. Here there were more officials, more presentations and more
ceremonies, and more _dulces_ and more bouquets.

The view from the ramparts, on which stood the lighthouse, was sublime:
the blue sea underneath us, Havana on the left, and the purple mountains
in the far distance.

One of the officials asked us whether we wanted to go to the top of the
lighthouse. I declined, much to the relief of the assembled company. They
say that fish have been thrown up by the spray over the lighthouse; but
this seems almost as incredible as the majority of fishy stories. The
castle is very high, the ramparts are higher, and the lighthouse crowns
everything. The water dashes up through narrow crevices in the rocks,
which gives it great force, and possibly might account for the fish story,
but I doubt it.

By this time (six o'clock) we were utterly exhausted. Even at this hour
the heat was intolerable. We had hoped for a little breeze on the water;
but, alas! there was none. Poor Señor Herreras held his foot incased in
tight patent-leather boots in his lap, moaning, "Comme je souffre!"

How they all must have blessed me for this idea of mine! I felt ashamed to
look them in the face.

CUBA, _1873._

I could not tell you all the things we were taken to see. We visited the
German and Spanish men-of-war As we were in the company of the Governor-
General, the Commander, and the Captain-General, we were not spared the
proper salutes. The tour of the war-ships had to be made, and in place of
the eternal _dulces_ international refreshments were offered us. We
departed in the Captain of the Port's steam-launch, and drove to the
Carreo, where the pretty villas are.

The Governor-General drove us out to his _quinta_ in great style:
English horses and carriage and an American coachman. The roads were
pretty bad, and we were considerably jostled going through the _Paseo._
The coachman careered from side to side to avoid ruts and tracks, and the
dust was overpowering. No conversation was possible, as our throats were
filled with dust and our lives hanging on a thread. I waved my hand in the
direction of anything I thought pretty, and silence followed.

At the _quinta_ all was ready and waiting for us. Fountains were playing,
servants in red and yellow gorgeous liveries, with white stockings, were
flitting about; various Cuban delicacies were offered to us, and we
admired everything that was to be admired. The return drive was
delightful, through the long avenues of stately palms and graceful date-
trees.

The carnival is a great event and very amusing. I am not spoiled in the
way of carnivals, only having seen that of Paris (the _Boeuf gras_)
and the Battle of Flowers at Nice. The populace turn out in great force,
every one is gay and happy, and the Cubans high and low join in the sport.

We were invited to drive in a four-in-hand. In this way we had a kind of
bird's-eye view of the whole. No lady thinks herself too fine to join in
the carnival. The procession, which defiles up and down the _Paseo_ during
the fray, begins at four in the hot, broiling afternoon, and ladies,
decked out as Diana, Minerva, or other celebrities, powdered _à
l'outrance_, smiling and proud of their success, recline in their
_volantes_. Their own servants, with false noses or otherwise disguised,
have their fun, too. I never saw such an orderly crowd; no pushing, no
quarreling, no drunkenness, and yet every one was enjoying himself. There
were two rows of carriages, one going up, one going down, with a place in
the middle for the four-in-hands and the _chars_, some of which were very
ingenious. There was a steamship with sailors, who kept firing off the
whistle every time they saw a skittish horse. On another car were men
dressed as skeletons with death's-heads instead of masks, and Shylock-
looking Jews riding with their backs to the horses' heads, holding on to
their tails.

A Punch and Judy were acting on a little stage during the procession,
surrounded by children of all sizes and ages decked out in costumes, their
tinselly flowers showing off their thin and sallow faces. There was a
tremendous tooting of horns, and, with the music in the square and the
music on the _chars_, made a perfect Bedlam. People nudged one another as
we hove in sight in our four-in-hand.

The G----s did not relish the carnival as much as we did, and thought it a
dismal affair. They captured a victoria by force, the coachman refusing to
take them until they said "Paseo" upon which he started off on a trot. He
had a dilapidated old horse, who had to be beaten all the way there, and
when there, what do you think the coachman did? Simply pulled out a false
nose and put it on and lighted a cigarette, stuck his hat on the lamp, and
jeered at all the other vehicles, being on jeering terms with all the
other cabmen; and as the _Paseo_ is a mile long, it meant a mile of
mortification. They came home disgusted and voted the carnival a
"disgraceful affair."

MATANZAS, CUBA.

DEAR M.,--In my last letter I told you of our invitation to the _bal
poudré_ and _masqué_ here. Count Ceballos, thinking it would amuse us to
see it, arranged that we should stay at the palace, where the ball was to
take place.

The Captain of the Port, with his aide-de-camp, accompanied us on our
trip, and as he was going there in some official capacity, we shared his
honors.

We had no adventures except that of traveling in company with a rather
rough-looking set of men, who were on their way to a cock-fight. The cocks
were tied up in bags; but as I wanted to see one the man opened the bag
and took it out, and also showed me the spurs they strap on them when they
fight.

We arrived in Matanzas about six o'clock, to find the Mayor's carriage
waiting for us. We drove to the palace, and after dinner dressed for the
ball. We did not attempt anything in the way of mask or costume, as being
unknown and _unpowdered_ was a sufficient disguise.

The Captain of the Port knew every one there, and presented many of his
friends. We went out and stood on the balcony, looking at the sea of
upturned heads. It seemed as if every Matanzois who was not inside was
outside gazing at the windows, and listening to the band which was playing
in the square. The night was glorious with a full moon.

I think that I have described in a former letter the Cuban dance, the
languid tropical shuffle they call the _Habanera_. The music is so
monotonous, always the same over and over again, and only ceases when it
is convenient to the musicians.

The ladies had _cascarilla_ (a powder made of eggshells) an inch thick on
their faces. I doubt if the officers ever saw so much powder as they did
at this _bal poudré_.

There was a sit-down supper, consisting of sandwiches smelling strong of
bad butter, ham and chicken salads, _dulces_ of all sorts, but, alas!
no fruit. The dancing continued long after we had retired for the night.

The Marquis Aldamar invited us to a _déjeuner_ for the following day;
the _volantes_ were again "to the door," and we started off in grand
style and great spirits and drove to the top of the mountain, from which
we enjoyed a perfectly glorious view of the Yumiri Valley. The winding
river looked like a silver thread as it wound in and out through the
grassy meadows.

Our _déjeuner_ was of a more European character than any that we had
yet had in Cuba; the menu was in French--evidently the cook was also
French--and the servants looked imported. In fact, everything was in
very good style. The hostess was charming and musical, she sang some very
pretty Cuban songs, and after a while asked me if I were musical, and if I
would play something.

The Captain, in an undertone and in all "proudness," said, "Ask Madame to
sing." And she did so in a rather condescending manner.

I accepted and went timidly to the piano, and as I hesitated as to what I
should sing, she said, "Oh! just sing any little thing." With an amused
glance at Laura I sang Chopin's waltz, which is the most difficult thing I
sing, and the astonishment depicted on the countenance of my patronizing
hostess was highly diverting.

"I wonder if you are any relation of a Mrs. Moulton whom my cousin knew in
Paris," she said. "He was very intimate with a family of your name, and
often talked to me about a Mrs. Moulton who sang so beautifully."

"Can it be that I am the same person? I have lived in Paris. What was your
cousin's name?" I inquired.

"Jules Alphonso."

"What!" I cried. "Jules Alphonso your cousin? I have not seen him for
years. I used to know him so well. Where is he?"

"He lives here in Cuba," she answered.

"Where in Cuba?" I interrupted. "How extraordinary! How much I should like
to see him again!"

"And he, I am sure, would like to see you, he has so often talked about
you to me. I felt directly last night that I knew you; it must have been
intuition."

I think, Mama, you must remember Jules. He was like a second son in our
house, and was an intimate friend of my brother-in-law, and would have
liked to have been a brother-in-law himself if he had been accepted. We
all loved him. How strange to find him here! The last place in the world I
should have dreamed of! I am not sure that I ever knew that he was a
Cuban.

My new friend was wild with joy. "You are the one person that I have
wanted to know all my life, and, fancy, here you are!"

Was it not a curious coincidence to meet _here_, in this out-of-the-way
place, some one who knew all about me?

I repeated, "I must see Jules, and if he is anywhere near I shall
certainly try to find him." "Let us go together," she said. "I will drive
you there, and we will take him by surprise." Two _volantes_ were
immediately before the door, and the Marquise Aldamar, the Captain of the
Port, Laura, and I started for La Rosa, Jules's plantation. It was an
enchanting drive, though a long one, leading, as it did, through avenues
of royal palms, and it was quite six o'clock before we reached Jules's
house. I said to the Marquise Aldamar, "As Jules has no idea that I am in
this part of the world, let me go in alone and surprise him."

We drove up to the entrance of his pretty villa, and the others
accompanied me to the door of the salon with a finger on their lips, so
that the servant should not announce us. We saw Jules sitting at a table
reading. I entered softly and went behind him, and laying my hand on his
shoulder said, "Jules!"

He turned quickly about, and when he saw me he thought I was an apparition
or a dream. "What! What!" he cried, trembling with astonishment.

"It is I--Lillie Moulton," I said, quietly.

"You! you! No, it can't be possible!" And he took hold of my hands as if
to see if they were flesh and blood. "Where did you come from? How did you
get here? What brought you here?" followed in quick succession. The others
pushed aside the curtain and came in. Then followed explanations. I was
obliged to answer thousands of questions, and go into thousands of
details, concerning the family, Paris, the war, and so forth. He ordered
champagne, improvised a little supper for us, and did not seem to be able
to do enough to show his delight at seeing me. But the Captain of the Port
soon reminded us that it was time to be on our way back to Matanzas, as it
was a long drive, and I bade a tearful farewell to lonely Jules. Our
comet-like visit must have seemed to him like a vision, and he watched us,
with eyes full of tears, drive away out of his life. Poor Jules!

MATANZAS, CUBA.

We spent the following morning in driving about the city. At half-past two
crossed the ferry to Yuanana-bocca, where we found the amiable director
and the rest of the party. The cars, with their cane-bottomed seats, were
cool. The scenery was exquisite. On both sides of the road were real
jungles of tropical growth, with the purple mountains as a background. We
passed many _ingenios_ (plantations), with their tall, smoking chimneys,
all in full blast.

On reaching our destination we were met by _volantes_ and saddle-horses.
The former were for the ladies, the latter for the gentlemen of the party,
and we made our way through the narrow, dirty streets, passed the walls of
the city, and came out on to the beautiful road, where a gang of chained
prisoners were breaking stones.

We passed many villas and well-kept gardens, and arrived at the bottom of
the hill, where we were obliged to get out and walk, for the roads became
impassable. It was a stiff climb; but when we reached the summit we were
rewarded by a most magnificent view. We descended and reached the
_volantes,_ the drivers whipped up their horses, and away we went over
rocks and ruts, but feeling nothing of them. That is the charm of a
_volante;_ only the wheels, which are behind you, get the jerks and jolts.

After a half-hour's drive we reached the famous cave, Laura and I were
supplied with garments looking like mackintoshes, and, provided with
torches, we began to descend. We first came to a large, vaulted hall,
where miles of stalactites in every form and shape twinkled in the light
of the torches.

We had to crawl through a small opening to get into another vaulted room
which boasted of an echo. The guide struck a note and I sang a cadenza,
which resounded like a thousand voices.

There never could have been a thermometer made that could register such
heat as we felt here; the air was frightfully oppressive and almost
intolerable.

They pointed out the Pope's Miter, the Virgin's Veil, the Altar, the Boat
--all looking about as much like their names as an apple looks like a pack
of cards. After being shown the lake I begged for fresh air, and we
mounted the steep wooden stairs. The hot air outside seemed like a wintry
breeze when we came into it, and we were told that we must cool off before
venturing into the hot sun. Then we _volanted_ back to Matanzas.

Our next visit was to the well-known _ingenio_ (sugar-plantation)
belonging to the cousin of the Marquis San Carlos. The sugar-mill stood in
front of the master's house, so that the master could watch from his broad
balcony the bringing in of the sugar-cane, which was hauled by huge cart-
loads drawn by oxen. The sugar-cane, on its arrival, was put between great
crushing wheels before it was thrown into the vats. The sturdy negresses,
up to their elbows, stirred the foaming syrup after it had boiled. Then it
was skimmed and boiled again to purify it. It went through a centrifugal
process to crystallize it, and afterward was packed in boxes and stamped
in less time than it takes to relate this. I liked to breathe the hot
vapors coming from the huge tanks. What remains of the sugar is used as
fuel; so nothing is wasted.

All the slaves seemed gay and well-fed. The Chinese, I believe, are liked
better than the natives, they are so clean and adroit. We visited the
houses of the slaves and found them all well kept. The master threw silver
pieces (ten cents) to the children, who seemed content in their bare
nakedness and clamored for more pennies. We drank _querap_ (molasses)
from the tanks mixed with whiskey. It was very good; but a little went
very far. Two small children fanned us with palmettos during dinner. We
passed the night there in the _ingenio_; but we saw no tarantulas, as
was predicted. The next morning, when our coffee was brought, there was an
assortment of delicious fruits--pineapples, guavas, bananas, cocoanuts,
mangos, etc., which we enjoyed immensely. There was a little excitement
before we started: the gardener, a bridegroom of eighty-five summers, was
married to a blooming young person of eighty, both slaves and black as
ink. We arrived at Havana that evening.

You can't tell how grieved I was to hear of the kind and good Emperor
Napoleon's death. He was only sixty-five years old. I thought he was
older. What an eventful life he had--tragical would be the right word.
What did he not endure? When he was a child he was an exile, and since
then, until he became first President and then Emperor, he was knocking
about the world, sometimes hidden and sometimes pursued. However, he had
fifteen years of glory, for there was not in all Europe a man more
considered than he was, and he had until the last four years of his reign
more prestige than any other sovereign. I think after the tragedy of
Mexico his star began to pale.

The Emperor Napoleon was certainly the kindest-hearted and best-
intentioned man in the world, so full of life, fun, and appreciation. I
can see him now shaking with laughter when anything amused him, as was
often the case at Compiègne.

The papers say that he had once been a policeman in London. I do not
believe this is true, though the Emperor told me himself that he had lived
very humbly at times; still, that is very different from being a
policeman. I wonder if the Prince will try to get back the throne. He does
not look as if he had a strong character, nor does he look as if he had
the energy of the Emperor, which enabled him to go through so many
hardships to gain his ends.

How sad it is! I am sure the Empress's only consolation is the thought
that her son can recover the position the father lost.

We returned to Havana quite tired out with our little journey, and glad to
rest in the quiet of our cool rooms, and I looked across the water,
crowded with boats of every description, and gazed with delight at the
distant mountains, with their clouds dragging themselves from one summit
to the other.

How hot it is! I never thought that the sun, which is so high up, could
pour down so; but it does pour down. I think it is hotter here than in
Matanzas.

We shall be leaving here in a few days, and I suppose we shall find ice
and snow in New York, and return to india-rubbers and umbrellas--things
unknown here. During our absence some German men-of-war have arrived here,
and stationed themselves right in front of our windows.

It must be their wash-day, for all the sailors' clothes are hanging out to
dry.

Lola San Carlos is in light gray--the mourning one wears for a brother-in-
law is not heavy in this warm country. She has invited us to a card-party
for tomorrow; card-parties are evidently not gay enough to interfere with
tears.

CUBA, _February._

DEAR MAMA,--Well, we are really going to return! As usual, I have no more
clothes, and I certainly will not be bothered to have anything made here.
My black tulle dress has become brown and gray in its efforts to keep up
to the mark; and as for Laura's white lace, it has become gray and brown,
so you see we must go home.

We went to Lola's card-party. There was the bereaved brother, looking very
chirpy, and the Dean, and the Abbé. They kindly proposed to teach me their
favorite game of _tresillo_. They took a lively interest in my ignorance.
They told me the rules and the names of the extraordinary cards; for
instance, hearts were represented by coins, for clubs there were clubs,
while trees and swords served for diamonds and spades. Every card is
something else than what you have called it before. The value of each is
changed according to the trump. What you have considered always as a low
card, such as the two of spades, suddenly becomes the best card in the
pack.

All the cards have Spanish names--Spadilla, Manilla, Basta, Ponto, and
Matadores--which sound very romantic. A simple seven of hearts becomes
suddenly top card and is called Manilla, which is the second best when
hearts are trumps, and then the two of clubs, which was miles high the
last hand, is at the tail of all the other cards now. It is a dreadful
game. I thought that I should have brain fever while learning it. They
went on playing it for hours; there never seemed any end to it; they
counted in the weirdest way, making ciphers and tit-tat-toes on the green
baize table with chalk, and wiped out with a little brush. Every trick of
the adversary was deducted, and all the heads met over the chalk-marks to
find out mistakes.

CUBA.

DEAR M.,--A dance was given at the Captain-General's, where all the
officers of the German and Spanish men of war were present. It was a very
brilliant sight, and we made many delightful acquaintances. Commodore
Werner of the German _Friedrich Wilhelm,_ Commodore Livonius of the
_Elizabeth,_ besides many other charming officers, as well as many
Spanish officers from the _Gerona._ The Germans danced with more energy
than the Cubans are accustomed to, and they stared at the unusual vigor
displayed, and accounted for it, saying it was because they were new-
comers. In fact, the officers, in their trim uniforms, looked very hot
and wilted at the end of the evening. Commodore Werner was a most gallant
gentleman, and as we did not dance, he had the leisure to tell me all
about his family, his literary tastes, and his admiration for pretty
ladies; and he finished by asking if we would do him the honor to lunch on
his ship the next day. A handsome young lieutenant (Tirpitz) came to ask
me to dance, but Commodore Werner gave him what in other less tropical
countries might be called a freezing look, remarking that no one ought to
dance in such heat as this. The young lieutenant left us quite subdued;
but the heat did not prevent his dancing with many ladies, if not with me.

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