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English Failure in the West Indies: Jefferson

I borrow this exquisite comparison from an account Joe Jefferson gave when he was so young it was a joke to play the part of an old man, in telling the ineffable heights to which the favorite Gulf of Mexico fish, the Pompino, ascended in the measure of merit. "The Pompino," said Jefferson, "is just the shad translated and caught without a hook in Heaven." But perhaps if one sought to find the limitations of the iridescent glories of the fruits of the tropics, a hint of the far-off line drawn upon the products that are the riches of everlasting summer, could be found in the story of Tom Corwin, who protested when a lady insisted upon pouring molasses into his coffee, that he feared she was making it "too sweet." "Dear Mr. Corwin," said she, "if it was all 'lasses, it could not be too sweet for you."

The apples that grew in Ohio were good food for boys; and there are those living who, before the Mexican war, assisted the pigs in assimilating the superfluous crop, and kept their teeth white gnawing pippins, who, even under the palms of Cuba, have grateful remembrances of the orchards of the Miami country.

The noisy streets of Havana are very trying. In this land of prodigious rains and a fierce sun, a pavement of wood could hardly fail to be offensive. The wooden pavement does not smell nicely in Paris or London, and here the odor would be alarming. I fear asphalt would become pulpy. Turnpikes in town, however well made, would increase the plague of dust. One day I had a streak of luck--was in haste--called a cabman and gave direction; and lo! he tore through the rattling streets at a speed equal to a jaunting car in Dublin when you have treated and tipped the driver. This is revolutionary, and I hope it will not be noticed by the authorities. I am told it never happened before. The business men of this city are bearing themselves bravely under very depressing circumstances. Many cannot be making expenses, but are holding on hopefully, believing something will happen to close the war and allow a return to the conditions of prosperity.

The day I was wafted across the harbor in a sail-boat, "my winged boat, a bird afloat," and took a cab, accompanied by the administrator of the transportation, between the ship and the hotel, the people said it was cold, and looked upon those exposed to the inclemency of the weather with interest, The very coldest group of people I ever saw was in Venice, where the band played in St. Mark's Square, the festive Venetians out to hear the icy music were actually blue, and with chill despair gathered their cloaks around them and were as marble in dignity.

It was my impression until now that Italy was a southern country as well as Cuba, but there is a difference. The "cold day" in Havana I was happy to be able to walk a few minutes without an overcoat and not find myself in a profuse perspiration, but saw the drivers of the cabs believed the air dangerously frigid. When the Cuban is in trouble he generally gets it "in the neck," and he thinks a cold spell seizes mankind by the throat. His protection from chills is a scarf wound about under the chin. It is fun to see the cabman muffled to the ears, his nose and brow only visible, driving with a hump in his back, feeling that the mighty North is taking liberties in the Land of the Sun.

It is only in exceptional cases that the Americans have the advantage of the Cubans in the services of barbers. We enjoy in Havana cool and spacious barber shops, with reclining chairs, and the barber is as deliberate, artistic, and courteous as anywhere the state of one's hair is highly esteemed. My barber here is almost the barber of my soul. He is tall and erect, with military bearing, and, when I take his chair, lights a cigarette and puffs with evident pleasure while he adjusts a faultless towel and applies the lather with gravity and elaboration, and I behold under his nose a spark and an ash, that is momentarily expected to alight on my nose! But this apprehension has never been justified. When the time comes to handle the razor, the cigarette is removed, a long jet of the precious smoke passes into space, and the mowing machine is so deftly applied, that where there was a field of gray stubble there is soon a satin lawn.

This city has sentiment in it. The mules in the service of the carters are decorated with colored tassels on their head harness, and apparently know they are admired, even as the gentlemen in London know they are admirable when they walk out with roses in their buttonholes.

The cathedral of Havana is in a closely built quarter of the city, with a small granite-paved square in front and narrow side streets. The front is of venerable aspect and imposing architecture--a heavy stone tower on either hand--the inside is ornate and brilliant. It is here the remains of Columbus--his bones in an urn--were believed to have been placed, when they were, if the treaty was executed, removed from San Domingo at the time that Island was ceded to France. The probability is that they were deposited in Havana, and that the fraud alleged to have been perpetrated by which they were retained, while other bones were conveyed to meet the obligation, was itself a fraud. The bust of Columbus, in marble, on the wall where the bones are said to be, and probably are, is commonplace and true only to the type of men who were early in discovery and exploration of the West Indies. There has been laid inside the cathedral a ponderous and obstructive foundation for a monument to Columbus, but there will be nothing lamentable to grieve over if it always remains unfinished.