Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

contains papers, for instance, they call the secretaire, and that which holds their linen, the commode. Hence you may perceive that they are no strangers to the different uses to which our various articles of furniture are appropriated.

[ocr errors]

66

In a country where the refinements of social life are scarcely known, dramatic entertainments and balls are almost indispensably necessary. Respecting the former I shall merely tell you, that the Mysteries," which so highly delighted our ancestors, are still represented here. I was present at the performance of the Triumph of the Ave Maria;" this tragicomedy terminates with the sudden appearance of a valiant knight, mounted on a real horse, and waving the bleeding head of an infidel on the point of his lance. I cannot describe the horror which this sight produced in me; but to the rest of the spectators it afforded high gratification-no fainting-fits, no nervous weaknesses, none of those affectations by which you men in Europe are continually imposed upon. How could a fiction shock the feelings of females accustomed to bull-fights, and who are daily liable to encounter the corpse of a murdered fellow-creature?

Let me now conduct you to the assembly-rooms. These are situated about half a mile from the town. An avenue leads to them, at the extremity of which is a statue of Charles III. It is small, and the dress is so faithfully copied as to give the king quite a ridiculous appearance. I am highly displeased with the sculptor, whose chisel has thus exposed the best and most enlightened of the Spanish monarchs to the public derision. I had almost forgotten to mention, that upon the road close to this statue lies a block of marble, upon which is rudely sketched the head of Christopher Columbus. This shapeless image of that great man, relinquished almost as soon as begun, lies in the dust at the king's feet-a correct emblem of the ingratitude of the monarch whom he served. About twenty years ago, during a momentary enthusiasm occasioned by the removal of the remains of the discoverer of the new world from San Domingo to Havanna, it was determined to erect a statue in honour of him; some money was collected for the purpose; but not a purse was opened on a second application, and the artist abandoned his work in its present unfinished state. The insult thus offered to the memory of Columbus will be repaid; his ashes will not remain here; a people

more worthy of possessing them will avenge him. But to return to the balls of the Havanna.

[ocr errors]

Five or six hundred volantes are employed in conveying the ladies and gentlemen to the rooms. These volantes are not to be compared with the meanest of our post-chaises; they are drawn by two horses, and driven by blacks. You enter the assembly-rooms, but soon perceive that dancing is but a secondary object of the company. The first apartments through which you pass are full of tables completely covered with gold and silver. The largest sums are lost and won in a minute with a sang-froid wholly unknown in Europe. What renders this spectacle the more amusing is, to observe this Countess, or that Marchioness, seated between a Spanish monk and a Dutch sailor, and enveloped in clouds of smoke, which they puff at her from their segars. Here gambling is not condemned by the public opinion; the priest, the gentleman, the magistrate, the merchant, sit down to the green table with the same composure as they would perform the most indifferent action. The father of a family conducts his wife and daughter into the ball-room, and then joins the gamesters; all this is quite a matter of course. It is not accounted degrading to keep the bank; the best proof of which is, that the bankers belong to the noblest families in the colony. The laws and the commands of the governor, indeed, threaten gamblers with severe penalties; but those who are charged with the duty of prosecuting transgressors, find it more advantageous to skreen them; they, therefore, undertake to persuade the governor that gaming is a necessary evil, and, doubtless, their arguments are convincing, since it is carried on with open doors and almost in public.

We are now in the ball-room, which is decorated with simplicity and taste. A hundred tapers pour a brilliant light over the ladies, who form a semicircle at one extremity of the room. This is the most agreeable moment of the illusion. Large black eyes, faces full of expression, and the prettiest little feet in the world, could not fail to shake the most rigid stoic, to whatever country he might belong. The gentlemen are seated on the opposite side of the rooni. During the whole of the ball the sexes never intermingle. The masters of the ceremonies call out the parties to dance, and so strict is the decorum maintained in the room, that you would almost imagine the formalities observed to be the

same as those which the Jesuits introduced at the dances of the savages of Paraguay. The ball opens with a minuet, which is repeated to disgust, not from choice but from necessity; the minuet step is more like walking than dancing, and this is better suited to a country where the slightest motion deprives you of breath and strength.

It is a difficult task to drive the ladies from their seats. No sooner have they quitted the attitude of repose, than they lose all the graces with which your fancy invested them; they hop like cripples; the tight shoes which pinch their feet occasion them severe pain at every step; their sufferings are so strongly expressed in their countenances as to distort their features. Their shape is not supported by any corset, and they have no notion of holding their robes, for I must tell you that the French fashion of dress is of very recent adoption in this country. Not more than ten years since, females were accustomed to appear in public just in the same state as they had risen from bed.

The men are less awkward, because they suffer no annoyance from their shoes, but they want that dignity of air and attitude which is so necessary in the minuet; they are, moreover, utter strangers to the peculiar character of that dance. These barbarians presume to present themselves to their partners in surtouts, and with round hats, or none at all. Whites alone are admitted to the balls which I have just described, and you perceive that they cannot boast of having adhered to the original intention of the minuet. This honour belongs exclusively to the free negroes. I cannot express the astonishment I felt on seeing these blacks, of graceful figure, going up to their partners, holding their dress-hats in their hands, and then covering themselves with a dignity that begins to be rare even in ancient Europe. The negro-women are not surpassed by the men; all their motions are graceful and noble; it is evident that they do not torture their feet to deprive them of their proper shape: they dress with taste, and they hold their robes with an elegance which even the admirers of your Opera would not fail to applaud.

I went to the negro ball with the intention of amusing myself for a moment at the expense of the company; but I was mistaken in my reckoning. What I found here was infinitely better than what I had quitted; and had any one

talked to me at this moment of the superiority of the whites to the blacks, I should have replied: "Only open your eyes and judge." The decent gaiety of these negroes of both sexes, the softness of their features, and the cordiality that prevails among them, cannot but excite the most favourable prepossessions. They are by nature improvisatori and musicians, and I will venture to predict, that if the colony should ever have a literature to boast of, it will be indebted for it to the blacks. "What!" you may ask, " are the whites then inferior to them?" I have no hesitation to admit, that this is the case between the tropics. The black here retains the whole physical and moral energy which he received from the Creator. The most scorching sun leaves him in full possession of his powers-nay, his heat, however intense, scarcely suffices the negro, who not only in the evening, but also during the day, seeks an increase of warmth from his fire, which is constantly kept burning. The white, on the other hand, transported from a temperate to a tropical climate, manifestly degenerates; for ten hours of the day he is, as it were, annihilated, and utterly incapable of any exertion either of body or mind to read for a quarter of an hour is here a martyrdom. If an adversary to the doctrine of the unlimited perfectibility of man were placed between the tropics, he would be obliged to seek proofs in support of his system among the whites, not among the blacks.

The elegance of the dress of the free negroes of the island of Cuba, nay their demeanour alone, indicates that they are in easy circumstances. This is actually the case, and their highly-laudable industry is the source of their wealth. The indolence of the Spaniards has given the monopoly of the mechanical arts to the free negroes, who work without intermission; and as they are much more temperate than Europeans, and handicraft labour obtains very high wages in Cuba, their savings increase fast, especially as the lowest rate of interest in this country is 20 per cent. The free negroes in general reside in the towns; they have an unconquerable aversion to a country life and rural occupations. It is but natural that they should dislike places and objects which remind them of their servitude and sufferings. The preference which they manifest for the towns has long excited apprehensions in the government and

the more discerning inhabitants of the colony; but the evil was perceived too late, and now it admits not of remedy, The number of free negroes has increased to such a degree, that it would be impossible for the government to compel them to live dispersed in the country, where, scattered over an extensive space, they would have had fewer opportunities of associating together, and acquiring a knowledge of their strength. This they now know-they know their numbers, and they will not much longer endure a condition, in which, notwithstanding their manumission, they are exposed to daily insult.

At Rome the manumission of slaves was not attended with any bad conse quences: the slaves were of the same colour as their masters, and as soon as they were declared free, they formed a part of the state; every freedman was a citizen added to the republic. As the taint of their origin was not obvious to the eye, it was soon erased from the memory. In our modern colonies the case is different; the black cannot change his colour, which is an insuperable obstacle to the attainment of civil honours; so that he cannot fill the meanest post that in other countries is relinquished, to the dregs of the people. The white will never allow of a political equality between himself and the negro. This is a prejudice, I shall be told-so it is; but never was prejudice so deeply rooted. Put M. Destutt de Tracy, than whom no man has a stronger abhorrence of social distinctions, to the test place a negro over him as colonel, and see whether he will pay the most cheerful obedience to his commands.

These free negroes, whose circumstances are daily improving, begin also to pay more attention to the education of their children. They have their parasites; for the indigent white, who is not above accepting an invitation to their table, pays for his entertainment by declaiming against the prejudice

[ocr errors]

which attaches a different degree of consequence to a difference of colour. He is sure to remark that the black soldier has as military an appearance as the white; that Christophe's crown becomes him as well as if he had been born to a throne; and that a negro makes as good a count, marquis, and duke, as any other man. These flatteries do not fail to produce their effect: the negro already lays claim to civil rights; he desires places and even honorary distinctions; he begins to be listened to, because he begins to be feared; and as much with a view to satisfy him as to raise money, Spain has now permitted the mulattoes to purchase the privilege of wearing epaulettes-a measure equally impolitic and injudicious. It humbles the Spanish officer, embitters the whites, and be trays to the blacks the secret that they are feared.

1

In 1811, according to public docu ments, there were here 114,000 free persons of colour and 212,000 slaves, forming together a mass of 326,000 blacks. The white population amounted to 274,000 souls; consequently there were 55 blacks to 45 whites, The number of free negroes to slaves is as 1 to 2: in the French colonies, before the Revolution, it was as 1 to 32; in the English it is as 1 to 65. The English colonial system is undoubtedly the best. Whoever has any particular object in view, must employ adequate means for its attainment: "if the thirst of gain tempts you to keep slaves, your own safety requires you to make them feel that they are such, to obstruct as much as possible the recovery of their liberty, and not suffer another negro population to spring up beside that which is doomed to labour in servitude, enjoying with freedom opportuni ties of acquiring wealth by industry, and nevertheless not only kept at a distance by invincible prejudice, but daily exasperated by insult and contumely,

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

* The Fancy; a selection from the Poetical Remains of the late Peter Corcoran, of Gray's Inn, Student at Law, with a brief Memoir of his Life. Svo.

midst of the age of paper we have hints of the age of iron. The wits are begin ning, not merely to praise, but to exercise the heroic art of boxing perhaps from an instinctive dread of the eneroachments of the literary spirit, and a natural repugnance to the shadowy ex istence which they possess in their writings. On the same principle some of them give themselves to racket-playing, as though they were entirely devoted to the art married to that immortal bride." Some cherish an enthusiasm for the sports of the field-some for robust ang ling and some, less venturous, for mere good cheer and all are anxious to proclaim their skill in racket-playing, shooting, fishing, and eating, as though they were jealous of their personal identity, and feared that the world would imagine them fit for nothing but criticism. Time was when the facetious reviewer was jocose on his wig, his dressing-gown, and his spectacles; but now he lays aside these old symbols of authority, emblematically beats the covers for game, baits his hook for a believing public, and threatens to enforce his decisions by personal strength, like a true American judge! Our brethren of the north pitch their tent in the hills through a whole number, and play all kinds of mad pranks beneath its shadow. In another of our periodicals we find one with whom few can dispute the critical laurel (if such a laurel there be) choosing rather to be thought the best racket-player than the best prose-writer in England. In the same work, we see the productions of correspondents the most opposite-a dainty effusion of Barry Cornwall, protected by an article on Fighting, by a young Gentleman of the Fancy." If things proceed in this way, the Fives Court will soon be the only fair avenue to Parnassus, and a man must literally fight his way to fame. Reviews and Magazines will become worthy of their names-the first will glitter with the regular rank and file, in martial array, and the latter will be so filled with combustible materials, that, like Acres with the challenge, we shall be afraid to open them lest they should go off. Then we shall only desire to see the bars of gold issuing from the Bank at Mr. Ricardo's bidding, and we may welcome again the æra of substantials!*

[ocr errors]

The work before us is the pleasantest indication which we have yet seen of

this pugnacious spirit. It purports to comprise the remains of a young man, who lost his mistress and his life by his attachment to "the Fancy," with "a memoir by the editor; but we need scarcely say that this is merely one of those tricks which neither deceive nor are intended to deceive any one, and that Peter Corcoran, like Jedediah Cleishbotham, has never had existence, except that which his editor has conferred on him. The circumstances in which the hero is placed during his brief career are well adapted for the editor's purpose; there is, of course, abundant room for sketches of the noble art, to which the life of Corcoran was devoted his divided love for fighting and for his mistress affords fair scope for a variety of pleasant antithesis and lively punning-and the contrast between his original hopes and his sad destiny gives occasion to starts of real tenderness and pathos, which, after all, are to our tastes the most pleasing part of the volume! Among the "Remains" is an Ameri can Tragedy, the scene of which is laid in the back settlements, but which we suspect is much more agreeable than any thing which really passes among the infatuated colonists. It is in the style of "Tom Thumb" and " Bom bastes Furioso," but has considerably more of intellect and meaning in its wit than either of these fantastical vagaries. This is followed by a fragment, called "The Fields of Tothill," a light and pleasant medley in the measure of Don Juan, which abounds in good-natured satire, and is not without its traces of genuine beauty. The following stanzas are a specimen of the first:

"The tale I now begin is as romantic

[ocr errors]

As any thing in Tom Moore's Lalla Rookh; The lovers are as mystic and as frantic,

But they're not Turkish-that's against' the book.

I wish they had play'd off some Eastern antic,
Or liv'd in any Haram's palmy nook,

But they have not-and I would sooner die
Than make them oriental, with a lie.

*

[blocks in formation]

See the Reading School Epilogue.oomDiễ

They were not even, what the state insists,

Church people in his Majesty's dominions;
They were, in short, or else their tales belie us,
Exceeding fond, but very far from pious.

"I wish to heaven they had been born in Turkey,
For booksellers despise an English book;
And though I held my head a little perky,
And cultivated an immortal look,
Unless the hero's mind and face were murky,

They'd see me in the Counter ere they took
A page to sell, although the whole was made for it,
And deuce a penny should I e'er get paid for it."

The passage which we are about to quote, affords us a glimpse of what the author might do if he would condescend to be serious!

"My heroine's name is at the best call'd Bessy,
A very laughing, rosy sort of creature:
The more romantic name of Rose or Jessy

Was due, beyond a doubt, to her sweet nature.
Her hair is what the Cockney School call tressy;
**And loveliness, like oil, glosses each feature
Of her round dimpling countenance, and lends
A quakerish took-but warmer than a friend's.
"While you gaze slily at her eyes, you're brewing
A cup of dangerous mischief for your drinking;
They look all full of sweet and maddening ruin,
And do a deal of havoc with their winking;
They're like the darkest flowrets with the dew in;
And if you meet them fully there's no slinking;
They snare one like the serpent's, till one feels
Very confus'd between the head and heels.
"Around her lips there is a smiling sweetness,
Which much inviteth other lips to kissing:
I wish I ne'er had witness'd such completeness
Of face there's not a charm of value missing.
Her words trip from her, tongue with all the neat-

ness C

Of morning dairy-maids, when winds are hissing In the early leaves. I would that I were wittier, To liken her to something that is prettier. "There is no picture in the magazines Sufficiently divine for such a face; I've seen fae similes of cheeks and chins,

But none with all her warmth, or half her

grace.

Some of the scarcest portraits of choice queens, Such as the Scottish Mary, give a trace;

But her sweet visage always looks the cosier—

She's something like Miss Stevens (Stephens)only rosier."

The following "Lines to Philip Samson, the Brummagem Youth," sevince a power of handling an unpromising subject (as we still presume to think it) gracefully:

"Go back to Brummagem! go back to Brum2 magem! J

Youth of that ancient and halfpenny town! Maul manufacturers; rattle, and rummage 'em ;Country swell'd heads may afford you renown: Here in Town-rings, we find Fame very fast go,

The exquisite light weights are heavy to bruise; For the graceful and punishing hand of Belasco Foils, and will foil all attempts on the Jews. "Go back to Brummagem, while you have a head

on !

For bread from the Fancy is light weight enough; Moulsey, whose turf is the sweetest to tread on, Candidly owns you 're a good bit of stuff:

But hot heads and slow hands are utterly useless, When Israelite science and caution awake;

So pr'ythee go home, Youth 4 and pester the Jews less,

And work for a cutlet and not for a stake. "Turn up the raws at a fair or a holiday,

[ocr errors]

Make your fist free with each Brummagem rib; But never again, Lad, commit such a folly, pray! As sigh to be one of the messmates of Crib. Leave the P. C. purse, for others to handle,—— Throw up no hat in a Moulsey Hurst sun; Bid adieu, by the two-penny post, to Jack Randall, And take the outside of the coach,one pound one!

Samson! forget there are such men as Scroggins, And Shelton, and Carter, and Bob Burns and

Spring:

[blocks in formation]

Your heart is a real one, but skill, Phil, is wanted;
Without it, all uselessly bravery begs:47
Be content that you've beat Dolly Smith, and
been chaunted,-

And train'd,-stripp'd,-and pitted, and hit off
your legs!"

As Randall was manifestly poor Corcoran's hero, we feel that we must, in justice to both, insert the following:

SONNET ON THE NONPAREIL & A

“None but himself can be his parallel ! I

"With marble-coloured shoulders-and keen eyes, Protected by a forehead broad and white,— And hair cut close lest it impede the sight, And clenched hands, firm, and of punishing size,

Steadily held, or motion'd wary,wise,yti, a

To hit or stop,--and kerchief too drawn tight O'er the unyielding loins, to keep from flight The inconstant wind, that all too often, flies, The Nonpareil stands !-Fame, whose bright eyes

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors]

"I remember well the time,-the sweet school-boy time,When all was careless thought with me, and summer was my sleep;

I wish I could recal that school-boy day of prime, For manhood is a sorry thing and mine is plunged deep

In faults that bid me weep. "I remember well the Severn's fair peerless flight, How can I e'er forget her silent glory and her speed!

The wild-deer of all rivers was she then unto my sight,

But now in common lustre doth she hurry through the mead,

Her flow I do not heed.

« ZurückWeiter »