University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER XIX.

Drove out over the Paseo de Tacon to the
Cerro, a height, formerly a village, now a part
of the suburbs of Havana. It is high ground,
and commands a noble view of Havana and
the sea. Coming in, I met the Bishop, who
introduced me to the Count de La Fernandina,
a dignified Spanish nobleman, who owns a
beautiful villa on this Paseo, where we walked
a while in the grounds. This house is very
elegant and costly, with marble floors, high
ceilings, piazzas, and a garden of the richest
trees and flowers coming into the court-yard,
and advancing even into the windows of the
house. It is one of the most beautiful villas
in the vicinity of Havana.

There are several noblemen who have their
estates and titles in Cuba, but are recognized
as nobles of Spain;—in all, I should say, about

fifty or sixty. Some of these have received
their titles for civil or military services; but
most of them have been raised to their rank
on account of their wealth, or have purchased
their titles outright. I believe there
are but two grades, the marquis and the
count. Among the titles best known to
strangers are Villanueva, Fernandina, and
O'Reilly. The number of Irish families who
have taken rank in the Spanish service and
become connected with Cuba, is rather remarkable.
Beside O'Reilly, there are O'Donnel,
O'Farrel, and O'Lawlor, descendants of
Irishmen who entered the Spanish service after
the battle of the Boyne.

Dr. Howe had seen the Presidio, the great
prison of Havana, once; but was desirous to
visit it again; so he joined me, under the conduct
of our young friend, Señor—, to
visit that and the hospital of San Juan de
Dios. The hospital we saw first. It is supported
by the government,—that is to say, by
Cuban revenues,—for charity patients chiefly,
but some, who can afford it, pay more or less.
There are about two hundred and fifty patients.

This, again, is in the charge of the
Sisters of Charity. As we came upon one
of the Sisters, in a passage way, in her
white cap and cape, and black and blue
dress, Dr. Howe said, "I always take off my
hat to a Sister of Charity," and we paid them
all that attention, whenever we passed them.
Dr. Howe examined the book of prescriptions,
and said that there was less drugging than
he supposed there would be. The attending
physician told us that nearly all the physicians
had studied in Paris, or in Philadelphia.
There were a great many medical students in
attendance, and there had just been an operation
in the theatre. In an open yard we saw
two men washing a dead body, and carelessly
laying it on a table, for dissection. I am told
that the medical and surgical professions are
in a very satisfactory state of advancement in
the island, and that a degree in medicine, and
a license to practise, carry with them proofs of
considerable proficiency. It is always observable
that the physical and the exact sciences
are the last to suffer under despotisms.

The Presidio and Grand Carcel of Havana

is a large building, of yellow stone, standing
near the fort of the Punta, and is one of the
striking objects as you enter the harbor. It
has no appearance of a jail without, but
rather of a palace or court; but within, it is
full of live men's bones and of all uncleanness.
No man, whose notions are derived from an
American or English penitentiary of the last
twenty years, or fifty years, can form an idea
of the great Cuban prison. It is simply horrible.
There are no cells, except for solitary
confinement of "incommunicados,"—who are
usually political offenders. The prisoners are
placed in large rooms, with stone floors and
grated windows, where they are left, from
twenty to fifty in each, without work, without
books, without interference or intervention of
any one, day and night, day and night, for the
weeks, months or years of their sentences.
The sights are dreadful. In this hot climate,
so many beings, with no provision for ventilation
but the grated windows,—so unclean, and
most of them naked above the waist,—all
spend their time in walking, talking, playing,
and smoking; and, at night, without bed or
blanket, they lie down on the stone floor, on
what clothes they may have, to sleep if they
can. The whole prison, with the exception
of the few cells for the "incommunicados,"
was a series of these great cages, in which
human beings were shut up. Incarceration is
the beginning, middle and end of the whole
system. Reformation, improvement, benefit
to soul or body, are not thought of. We inquired
carefully, both of the officer who was
sent to attend us, and of a capitan de partido,
who was there, and were positively
assured that the only distinction among the
prisoners was determined by the money they
paid. Those who can pay nothing, are left
to the worst. Those who can pay two reals
(twenty-five cents) a day, are placed in wards
a little higher and better. Those who can
pay six reals (seventy-five cents) a day, have
better places still, called the "Salas de distincion,"
and some privileges of walking in
the galleries. The amount of money, and
not the degree of criminality, determines the
character of the punishment. There seems
to be no limit to the right of the prisoners
to talk with any whom they can get to hear
them, at whatever distance, and to converse
with visitors, and to receive money from
them. In fact, the whole scene was a Babel.
All that was insured was that they should
not escape. When I say that no work was
done, I should make the qualification that a
few prisoners were employed in rolling tobacco
into cigars, for a contractor; but they were
very few. Among the prisoners was a capitan
de partido (a local magistrate), who was committed
on a charge of conniving at the slave-trade.
He could pay his six reals, of course;
and had the privileges of a "Sala de distincion"
and of the galleries. He walked about
with us, cigar in mouth, and talked freely,
and gave us much information respecting the
prison. My last request was to see the garrotte;
but it was refused me.

It was beginning to grow dark before we
got to the gate, which was duly opened to us,
and we passed out, with a good will, into the
open air. Dr. Howe said he was nowise reluctant
to be outside. It seemed to bring back
to his mind his Prussian prison, a little too forcibly

to be agreeable. He felt as if he were
in keeping again, and was thinking how he
should feel if, just as we got to the gate, an
officer were to bow and say, "Dr. Howe?"
"Yes, sir." "You may remain here. There
is a charge against you of seditious language,
since you have been in the island." No man
would meet such a danger more calmly, and
say less about it, than he, if he thought duty
to his fellow-beings called him to it.

The open air, the chainless ocean, and the
ships freely coming and going, were a pleasant
change to the eye, even of one who had never
suffered bonds for conscience' sake. It seemed
strange to see that all persons outside were
doing as they pleased.