University of Virginia Library

PROLOGUE.

A stranger newly transported from the snows
of the north, and placed in a piazza not far
from the shores of Cuba, becomes, if he has
the least sensibility, inebriate with warmth and
fragrance. Inhaling the perfume of orange
trees, and surrounded with fields of coffee (with
its glossy green leaves growing in wreathes
with crimson berries, or white blossoms,) he
moves, looks, and speaks as if under the influence
of enchantment. Let him who sighs
for death, come hither; a light veil will soon
be spread over all the scenes of memory, and
the climate, if it does not destroy, may, at
least, shorten his material term.

Ambrosio del Monte, a young Cuban, educated
in Germany (1) had proposed to me a visit
to a cavern near the valley of Yumuri. At six
in the morning we were on horseback, with

negro attendants. The air was sweet with the
yellow flowers of malva; and a small herb bearing
blossoms of cerulean blue, still trembled
with the large dew drops of a refreshing night.

The sun had just arisen with that burst of
splendor known only in the tropics. A few
solitary pelicans were seen about the bay of
Matanzas, whose broad, semi-circular expanse,
smooth and bright as a mirror, reflected every
object around it in light of the richest colors.
A party of young men were just entering
a small boat to go to a vessel moored at a distance
in the harbor. “It is more beautiful,”
said one of them, “than the Bay of Naples.”

We passed through the town, and were soon
beside the lucid Yumuri, as it glided insensibly
between banks of eternal verdure, reflecting
every flower and leaf that hung in profusion
around it. I could but muse, a moment, on
that happy people who once lived and loved
in these retreats, and passed as calmly to their
graves as this stream to the bay, which so
sweetly and silently engulfs it. They welcomed
the christian to their abodes and—where
are they now?

We soon entered the woods, and descended
to the first large and murky apartment of a
cavern that had never been explored.(2) There
are few things in nature that awaken more fearful
sensations than an unknown labyrinth in
the earth. Our negroes were afraid; our

lights too ill guarded to proceed, and we were
soon glad to abandon this craggy temple of
darkness for the breath of flowers and of heaven.

Leading our horses through the trees, we
found a path cut through a thicket, which had
else been impervious. Innumerable creeping
plants had climbed from tree to tree, entangling
the branches with their verdant meshes, and
now hung waving and floating on the air in
wreaths and luxuriant masses.

The path was just wide and high enough to
allow us to mount our horses, but soon opened
into a spacious avenue of bamboo. The
spectacle to me was astonishing. Immense
reeds planted in clusters, and at equal distances,
had reached at least fifty feet in height.
Their strong stems, bending gracefully, and
crossing each other near the summit, formed
a vast arch or aisle of the Gothic order.[1] The
roof, of small innumerable leaves of a grassy
texture, was impenetrable to the sun; and the
tall clustered columns whence it sprung were,
many of them, bound together with a natural

tracery of ipomea, and convolvuli, still fresh
and vivid.

For the eighth of an English mile we rode
under this shapely bower, which looked as if
reared by magic. But art had merely directed
the hand of nature. An old man planted
the reeds, and a few years had completed the
magnificent structure.

The moaning of the smaller dove was heard
near us, and the high verdant arches above our
heads, were disturbed by the black wings of the
Judio, whose nest was concealed in them.

Noon was fast approaching, and the heat of
the sun without, was intense. We alighted
from our horses, and treading on a thick carpet
of fallen leaves proceeded leisurely through
the charming walk, till it gave us the vista of
a coffee plantation, divided into compartments
and enclosed with broad hedges of lime trees,
cut in the form of a thick wall, and filled with
fruit and blossoms.(3)

In the centre of an open space, stood a
dwelling formed of stakes driven into the
earth, and woven together with wild plants, in
the manner of basketry. A rustic piazza of
tasteful shape, was surrounded by sweet scented
shrubs, and twined with passion flowers,
convolvuli, and that delicate creeper called by
the French `la chevelure de Venus.' A lawn in
front was covered with the fine grass of Bermuda,

which, spread like mats on the borders
of every flower bed, prevented the feet from
being soiled by the red mould of the country.

In the centre of the lawn surrounded by
flowers, and protected by a thick bower of
grenadilla, was a bason formed of the lime of
the island converted into plaster, and from a
vase cut from the lime rock, (standing on a pedestal,
and ornamented with spar, from some
neighboring cavern,) gushed a small stream of
filtered water.

Low hedges of those roses which are always
in bloom, and emit a faint odor, like that
of the violet, added to the cheerfulness of the
scene. The hollow trunk of a palm tree had
been cut into convenient pieces, which stood
elevated round the bason, and were filled with
honey by the wild bees, while borders of red
head (or ipecacuana) seemed almost alive with
the humming birds which it had been planted
to allure. (4)

Warm and weary, we were hesitating whether
to advance farther or to return again to the
woods, when a negro appeared with a message
from his master, inviting us to rest beneath
his roof till evening.

We found waiting for us, in the piazza, an
elderly person, whose benign countenance was
shaded by hair still profuse, although white as
the ipomea which opens at sunset upon hedges
of lime and prickly pear. The neat arrangement

of his linen dress with the gentle composure
of his manner, increased the favorable
opinion conceived before, from the taste of
his rural embellishments.

We accepted an invitation to dine, and were
soon shown into little apartments where we
found cots to repose upon, defended from the
mosquitos by clean transparent muslin, purchased
at Matanzas; gourds of different shapes
and sizes supplied the place of basons and
ewers, and were filled with water, cold from
the tank and filtering stone.

We threw off our riding dresses, and after
bathing and dressing in fresh linen, yielded to
the allurement of the pillows prepared for us,
and enjoyed the luxury of that noonday sleep,
so grateful and necessary after any tropical excursion.
(5)

At three we were summoned to the table,
where two other guests, who were wayfaring
men, took also their places. 6

Soup of a turtle, taken by accident in the
river, was served in the turtle's own shell, cutlets
of the white meat of the same turtle, a
young peacock, a guinea fowl, doves from the
cote, and parrots served in pastry, formed the
principal course; side dishes of rice grown on
the plantation, and sweet potatoes, (which had
ornamented its provision grounds with their
glossy vines and purple blossoms) were brought
at the same time with large vegetable eggs

dressed with crumbs of bread; the unripe plantain
appeared in small pieces browned at the
fire; and the same fruit wholly ripe was roasted
and served in the fresh juice of the sugar
cane. Next came shell fish, red as coral, from
the bay of Matanzas, and small oysters, with
flat purple shells, each of which contains a
small pearl. (6) Milk, curdled by the climate,
pressed into the form of a heart, and laid on
rose leaves, was eaten with cream and a syrup
boiled with blossoms of the orange tree.

The wine that sparkled in our glasses was
the purest of Bordeaux and Xeres. A fragrant
anana, fresh guayavas, rose apples, fig-bananas,
and sapadillas, were profusely heaped at the
dessert, and coffee from a neighboring secadero
finished the bountiful repast.[2] Fresh
leaves, curiously folded, had, during this course
of fruits, supplied the place of richer vessels; (7)
and the only servants, save our own, who appeared
at table, were two young negresses selected
for a comeliness not common among women
of their color. They were clad in a single
tunic of white linen, with blue handkerchiefs
upon their heads; their waists were encircled
with belts woven of the purple shoots of some
gaudy creeper of the forest, while their glossy
black necks and bare round arms were ornamented

with collars and bracelets of the scarlet
grains of the coral plant which had grown
near their own habitations.

The sun was near sinking when we rose from
table and repaired to the grounds that first attracted
us. The hospitable Dalcour showed
us specimens of spar from caverns or grottos in
his neighborhood. We admired the ingenuity
of his fountain, from which the water flowed
slowly, but filtered and ready for use, while
the high light roof above it, shaded by two
clusters of bamboo, and thickly covered with
vines of the luxuriant grenadilla, protected the
bason from the sun and formed a cool retreat
from the ferver of noon when too oppressive.

“This water,” said Dalcour, “comes from
a neighboring tank, kept always full by the
rains that fall upon our secadero. It is conducted
through tubes of bamboo smeared with
the bitumen or `liquid coal' that oozes from a
rock at Camarioca. It is but a frail material!
—yet even these simple reeds may last as long
in the bosom of the earth, as he who placed
them there is permitted to remain upon its surface.”

We wandered about the grounds till the
brief delicious twilight was fading, and then
sat down to rest in a little arbour at the extremity
of an alley, where orange trees were
growing, alternately with low pomegranates.
Trees were seen, here and there, bearing a

fruit of the color of a glowing peach, but shaped
like an inverted pear, and surmounted by
that dangerous nut, in the form of a Turkish
crescent.

Our bower, slightly woven of guana, was
covered with the vine of the passion flower,
and shaded by the acacia of Florida. A hammock
near its entrance, was suspended from
two trees of the Otaheite almond. Into this
Ambrosio threw himself, and lay rocking and
looking at the sky that still tinted the foliage
with its colors.

All the beauties of the island, seemed united
on this flourishing plantation. “In the tropics,”
said Dalcour, “nature is active and profuse,
and such adornments as these are easily
procured and assembled. (8) Yet the traveller
in Cuba can find little to examine except our
numerous caves. The dwellings of the planter
are generally new and simple. Bamboo
form his only arches and palm trees his only
columns. (9) As soon as respiration ceases the
remains of the stranger are cast into the earth.
His substance soon changes to flowers and
weeds; and death is an event so common, that
few find leisure for a sigh even when it occurs
in their circle.

“The man of feeling, when disgusted with
coldness or perfidy, retreats to the pages of
romance, and seeks in the fields of imagination
such beings as he has vainly panted to behold

and possess in reality. Yet, false and insipid
as it seems at first sight,—life—real, every-day
life, abounds with incidents often more wild
and affecting than creations of the most fervid
fancy. Poor Idomen! who will not forget
thee when I am no more?” “And who was
Idomen?” I said. “Her story,” returned Dalcour,
“is long;—if you will hear it, remain
with me till to-morrow.”

The rays of the moon, which had now arisen,
were playing in the silver locks of our
bland host, and glancing, faintly reflected, over
the jetty curls of Ambrosio del Monte, as they
peeped between the large meshes of the net
work of the hammock that still supported him.
The tube rose, or “azucena,” burthened the
mild atmosphere, with a perfume resembling
that of the magnolia; while its tall spires, full
of blossoms, were seen between the trees of the
alley. The faint odour of the coffee fields,
from time to time, mingled with our breathing.
The rose that keeps always in flower was growing
so near, that even amid so much aroma,
we could distinguish its light fragrance like
that of the violet.

Moonllight in these climates, produces a remarkable
effect; it seems to penetrate the system
through the pores and conduits of the
skin, and produces that softness of languor so
difficult to overcome or to resist. The way to
our home, though not very far, lay through

thickets almost impervious; the pleasing fatigue
of the morning had also been enough for
my companion; we remained with the courteous
stranger, and desired him to relate his
story. Dalcour rose a moment, drew aside
the flower and leaves that the moonbeams might
enter more freely; and placing me by his side
on a turf seat covered with Bermuda grass, began
thus, the relation which seemed overflowing
from his memory.