Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 4, No. 25, November, 1859

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 4, No. 25, November, 1859

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One of this dog's abnormal qualities was the bull-dog one of holding on
to his antagonist in a fight. But few dogs of his size were able to
cope with him; and I once saw him, when in grips with a fierce
bull-terrier by a riverside, precipitate the result by dragging his
adversary into the water, and dipping his head under. He would jump off
the highest bridge to fetch out of the water anything thrown in for
him, never failing to bring it to his master's feet,--except once, when
he steadily declined to recover from the raging element a cane with
which I had, some time previously, administered to him a sound
thrashing for some delinquency. On the first occasion of his being
accidentally left behind at a ferry across a very wide and rapid river,
he swam out some distance after the boat; but, finding the enterprise a
rather hopeless one, soon put back again and waited for the next boat,
on board of which he took his place with a tranquil and business-like
air. This he regularly did on subsequent occasions, without risking the
swim; and when on board, he always seated himself on the upper deck and
as far forward as possible, so as to catch early glimpses of his
friends in waiting.

Among the gifts of this clever animal, I must not forget to reckon a
perception of the truthful in Art. I had a walking-stick, upon the
crooked handle of which was carved, with tolerable skill, a pointer's
head. This piece of sculpture was a source of frequent anxiety to
Muff,--his embarrassment apparently arising from the circumstance of
his not having the gift of speech wherewith to deliver himself of an
opinion on the subject. He would sometimes get up from the sunny spot
on the carpet where he lay, walk over to the corner in which the stick
was deposited, contemplate the handle attentively, with his head on one
side, for several minutes, and then, shaking his head doubtfully,
return to his lair with a sigh. Philanthropist as well as critic, he
once saved the life of a dissipated old sergeant of dragoons, to whom
he had taken a fancy, by rushing into a house which the man had just
quitted in a state of intoxication, and so rousing the inmates by his
gestures, that they at once followed him into the road, alongside of
which the beery old _sabreur_ was found prostrate in a pool of water,
setting his face pertinaciously against that hostile element, even to
what was very near being his last gasp.

Large dogs often appear to take a humorous view of the futile attempts
of small ones to accomplish some feat beyond their strength or stature.
A friend of mine once possessed a very large animal of a cross between
the Mount St. Bernard dog and the English mastiff, and as remarkable
for his good-nature as for his great strength and courage. Rambling out
one day, accompanied by this trusty friend, they came upon a group of
rustics engaged in the ignoble diversion of baiting a badger, an animal
much in request among English dog-fanciers as a test for the pluck of
their terriers. "Drawing a badger" is the proper sporting-phrase,--the
animal being chained to a barrel, from the recesses of which he
contends savagely with the fierce little dogs pitted against each other
to drag him out within a given time. Nero looked on at the sport with a
majestic air of contempt, as dog after dog was withdrawn from the
conflict. At length, disgusted with the failures, he watched his
opportunity until the badger made a dive from his den at a retreating
foe, when, snapping him up by the collar, he thundered away down the
road with the barrel flying after, nor ever stopped until he reached
home, nearly a mile away, where he safely deposited badger and barrel
in the immediate vicinity of his private residence in the stable-yard.

One of the worst vices by which a dog can be beset is a propensity for
killing sheep. It is not a common vice, but, where it exists, it
appears to be inveterate and beyond all hope of reform. Shutting up the
delinquent with a dangerous ram has often been recommended as a certain
mode of disgusting him with mutton, should he survive the discipline
inflicted on him by the avenger of the blood of his race. I can recall
but one instance within my experience in which this corrective was
tested. It was in the case of a sulky dog of a breed between the red
Irish setter and something larger, but less patrician, upon whom the
thirst for blood fell at uncertain intervals, impelling him then to
devastate the very sheepfolds of which in his capacity as watch-dog he
might have been considered as _ex officio_ the guardian. This vile
malefactor had been ordered for execution, and the noose was already
coiled for his caitiff neck, when a neighbor of his master's--a great
raiser of sheep--begged for him a reprieve, kindly volunteering the use
of a truculent, but valuable ram belonging to him, for the purpose of
illustrating the homaeopathic theory above alluded to. At nightfall the
ram was brought and turned into a paddock, where he was left fettered
to the dog with a couple of yards of chain. At the dawn of morning the
ram's master approached confidently the arena of discipline, secure of
a result triumphant for his theory. But theory was a delusion in this
instance; for the red dog Tanner sat there alone and surfeited with
mutton,--though there was a good deal of the ram still left.

It is wonderful what an amount of crime can be committed, even
by a small dog, when, like the _Chourineur_ of Eugene Sue, he is
under the glamour of blood. Of this there came to my knowledge a
well-authenticated instance, one for the truth of which I can vouch. A
settler in a remote bush-district had been to the nearest village,
which was many miles from his clearing. It was in March, and the
surface of the snow--which was quite two feet deep--was frozen to a
hard crust, as he travelled homewards in his cutter, accompanied by a
currish dog, not nearly so large as an average pointer. About
nightfall, and when some two miles from home, a herd of nine deer
crossed his track, struggling away into the woods with uncertain
plunges, as the treacherous crust gave way beneath them at every bound.
While they were yet in sight, the dog gave chase, and they all
disappeared into the dark forest together; nor did the dog return to
the call of his master, who, after whistling to him for a short time,
proceeded on his way and drove home without him. Early next morning the
cur made his appearance, glutted and gory, and looking the very picture
of dissipation. Struck by his appearance, they took the back track on
his trail, which led them to a hollow in the bush, where the snow was
much trampled and draggled with blood, and in and around which every
one of the nine deer lay dead, pulled down and throttled by one
miserable cur, who had the mastery over them, because he could run on
the surface of the snow, through which they sunk. The dog's master--at
whose shanty I once stayed when on a fishing-excursion--was much
mortified at the occurrence, as the deer-hunting season was past, and
he was one of Nature's sportsmen, a game-keeper by instinct.

I have but one more anecdote of a dog, for the present; and that is one
for the truth of which I distinctly decline to vouch. It was imparted
to me by a calker, who owned a woolly French poodle, which remarkable
animal, he informed me, used to swim out regularly once a week,--on
Saturday evenings, I think he said,--with a large wisp of tow in his
mouth, upon the ascension of his fleas into which place of refuge, he
would "let it slide" down the current and swim back tranquilly to the
shore, there to slumber away another week in comparative comfort.[1]

[Footnote 1: The calker's dog had probably never read Olaus Magnus,
though that worthy Archbishop wrote something very like dog-Latin; but,
as dwellers on the margin of the "Atlantic," we have too great a
respect for a prelate who believed in the kraaken and the sea-serpent,
not to refer our valued Cynophilist to the Thirty-Ninth Chapter of the
Eighteenth Book _De Gentibus Septentrionalibus_, where he will find the
same story told of the fox.--_Eds. Atlantic._]

Having thus calked my Dog-Talk--bark, in fact--with this very tough bit
of yarn, I now trustfully commit it to the mercies of the "Atlantic."

THE RECKONING.

Your thought may recur with mine
To a certain place in the city,
Where you sometimes have chanced to dine;
If not, why, the more's the pity!

Did you notice the delicate way
Whereby, with the trencher and cup,
Comes a hint of the matter of pay,
In a counter laid _blank side up_?

Now,--not to pervert the intent
Of a courtesy gentle and rare,
Or observance so civilly meant
With disparaging things to compare,--

By the token your messenger brings,
Did such services never suggest
A likeness to manifold things
Of the world, and the flesh, and--the rest?

Command whatsoever you will,
To pamper your folly or pride;
You shall find, that unfailingly, still,
The _counter_ is laid beside,

Silently,--seemingly fair,--
Till an angel the disk shall turn,
And the soul's great debt, the inscription there,
On her vision shall burst and burn!

* * * * *

A TRIP TO CUBA.

MATANZAS.

A hot and dusty journey of some six hours brought us to Matanzas at
high noon. Our companions were Cubans, Spaniards, Americans, and
game-chickens, that travel extensively in these parts, sometimes in
little baskets, with openings for the head and tail, sometimes in the
hands of their owners, secured only by a string fastened to one foot
and passed over the body. They seem to be objects of tender solicitude
to those who carry them; they are nursed and fondled like children, and
at intervals are visited all round by a negro, who fills his mouth with
water, and squirts it into their eyes and under their feathers. They
are curiously plucked on the back and about the tail, where only the
long tail-feathers are allowed to grow. Their tameness in the hands of
their masters is quite remarkable; they suffer themselves to be turned
and held in any direction. But when set down, at any stage of the
journey, they stamp their little feet, stretch their necks, crow, and
look about them for the other cock with most belligerent eyes. As we
have said that the negro of the North is an ideal negro, so we must say
that the game-cock of Cuba is an ideal chicken, a fowl that is too good
to be killed,--clever enough to fight for people who are too indolent
and perhaps too cowardly to fight for themselves,--in short, the
gladiator of the tropics.

Well, as we have said, we and they arrived at our journey's end in the
extreme heat of the day; and having shown our paper and demanded our
trunks, we beat an instantaneous retreat before the victorious monarch
of the skies, and lo! the Ensor House, dirty, bare, and comfortless,
was to us as a fortress and a rock of defence.

Here I would gladly pause, and, giving vent to my feelings, say how
lovely I found Matanzas. But ever since Byron's time, the author is
always hearing the public say, "Don't be poetical," etc., etc.; and in
these days both writer and reader seem to have discovered that life is
too short for long descriptions,--so that, when the pen of a G. P. R.
James, waiting for the inspirations of its master, has amused itself
with sketching a greater or less extent of natural scenery, the rule of
the novel-reader is invariably, "Skip landscape, etc., to event on
thirty-second page." Nevertheless, I will say that Matanzas is
lovely,--with the fair harbor on one hand and the fair hills on the
other, sitting like a mother between two beautiful daughters, who looks
from one to the other and wonders which she loves best. The air from
the water is cool and refreshing, the sky is clear and open, and the
country around seems to beckon one to the green bosom of its shades.
"Ob, what a relief after Havana!" one says, drawing a full breath, and
remembering with a shudder the sickening puffs from its stirring
streets, which make you think that Polonius lies unburied in every
house, and that you nose him as you pass the door and window-gratings.
With this exclamation and remembrance, you lower yourself into one of
Mr. Ensor's rocking-chairs,--twelve of which, with a rickety table and
a piano, four crimson tidies and six white ones, form the furniture of
the Ensor drawing-room,--you lean your head on your hand, close your
eyes, and wish for a comfortable room, with a bed in it. A tolerable
room you shall have; but for a bed, only a cot-bedstead with a sacking
bottom,--further, nothing. Now, if you are some folks that I know, you
will be able to establish very comfortable repose on this slender
foundation, Nature having so amply furnished you that you are your own
feather-bed, bolster, sofa-cushion, and easy-chair, a moving mass of
upholstery, wanting only a frame to be set down in and supported. But
if you should be one of Boston's normal skeletons, pinched in every
member with dyspepsia, and with the mark of the beast neuralgia on your
forehead, then your skin will have a weary time of it, holding your
bones, and you will be fain to entreat with tears the merciful
mediation of a mattress.

Now I know very well that those of my readers who intend visiting Cuba
will be much more interested in statistics of hotels than in any
speculations, poetical or philosophical, with which I might be glad to
recompense their patience. Let me tell them, therefore, that the Ensor
House is neither better nor worse than other American hotels in Cuba.
The rooms are not very bad, the attendance not intolerable, the table
almost commendable. The tripe, salt-fish, and plantains were,
methought, much as at other places. There were stews of meat, onions,
sweet pippins, and _ochra_, which deserve notice. The early coffee was
punctual; the tea, for a wonder, black and hot. True, it was served on
a bare pine table, with the accompaniment only of a bit of dry
bread,--no butter, cake, nor _dulces_. But Mr. Ensor has heard, no
doubt, that sweet things are unwholesome, and is determined, at
whatever cost to his own feelings, to keep them out of the way of his
guests, who are, for the time, his children. Then there is an excellent
English servant called John, whom, though the fair Ensor did berate
him, we must enumerate among the comforts of the establishment. There
is a dark corner about _volantes_, which they are disposed to order for
you at a very unreasonable profit; but as there are plenty of livery
stables at hand, and street _volantes_ passing all the time, it will be
your own fault, if you pay six dollars where you ought to pay three.

The first thing to be done at Matanzas is to drive out and see the
Cumbre, a hill in the neighborhood, and from it the valley of the
Yumori. The road is an improvement on those already described,--the
ruts being much deeper and the rocks much larger; the jolting is
altogether more complete and effective. Still, you remember the
doctrine that the _volante_ cannot upset, and this blind faith to which
you cling carries you through triumphantly. The Cumbre is lofty, the
view extensive, and the valley lovely, of a soft, light green, like the
early leaves and grass of spring, dotted everywhere with the palms and
their dark clusters. It opens far, far down at your feet, and on your
left you see the harbor quiet and bright in the afternoon sun, with a
cheering display of masts and pennons. You would look and linger long,
but that the light will wane, and you are on your way to Jenks his
sugar-plantation, the only one within convenient distance of the town.
Here the people are obviously accustomed to receive visitors, and are
decently, not superfluously, civil. The _major-domo_ hands you over to
a negro who speaks English, and who salutes you at once with,
"Good-bye, Sir!" The boiling here is conducted in one huge, open vat. A
cup and saucer are brought for you to taste the juice, which is dipped
out of the boiling vat for your service. It is very like balm-tea,
unduly sweetened; and after a hot sip or so you return the cup with
thanks. A loud noise, as of cracking of whips and of hurrahs, guides
you to the sugar-mill, where the crushing of the cane goes on in the
jolliest fashion. The building is octagonal and open. Its chief feature
is a very large horizontal wheel, which turns the smaller ones that
grind the cane. Upon this are mounted six horses, driven by as many
slaves, male and female, whose exertions send the wheel round with
sufficient rapidity. This is really a novel and picturesque sight. Each
negro is armed with a short whip, and their attitudes, as they stand,
well-balanced on the revolving wheel, are rather striking. They were
liberal of blows and of objurgations to the horses; but all their cries
and whipping produced scarcely a tenth of the labor so silently
performed by the invisible, noiseless slave that works the
steam-engine. From this we wandered about the avenues, planted with
palms, cocoas, and manifold fruit-trees,--visited the sugar-fields,
where many slaves were cutting the canes and piling them on enormous
ox-carts, and came at last to a great, open field, where many head of
cattle were quietly standing. Our negro guide had not been very lavish
or intelligible in his answers to our numerous questions. We asked him
about these cattle. "Dey cows," he replied. We asked if they gave milk,
and if butter was made on the plantation. He seemed quite puzzled and
confused, and finally exclaimed,--"Dat cows no got none wife." Coming
nearer, we found that the cows were draught oxen, employed in dragging
the canes and other produce of the plantation. Jenks his garden we
found in good order, and beautiful with many plants in full blossom;
but Jenks his house seemed dreary and desolate, with no books, a
wretched print or so, dilapidated furniture, and beds that looked like
the very essence of nightmare. Nothing suggested domestic life or
social enjoyment, or anything--; but as Jenks is perfectly unknown to
us, either by appearance or reputation, we give only a guess in the
dark, and would suggest, in case it may displease him, that he should
refurnish and repaint a little, and diffuse an air of cheerfulness over
his solitary villa, remembering that Americans have imaginations, and
that visitors will be very apt to construct an unknown host from his
surroundings.

The second thing to be done in Matanzas, if you arrive on Saturday, is
to attend military mass at the Cathedral on Sunday morning. This
commences at eight o'clock; but the hour previous may be advantageously
employed in watching the arrival and arrangement of the female
aristocracy of Matanzas. These enter in groups of twos and threes,
carrying their prayer-books, and followed by slaves of either sex, who
bear the prayer-carpet of their mistresses. The ladies are wonderfully
got up, considering the early hour; and their toilettes suggest that
they may not have undressed since the ball of the night before. All
that hoops, powder, and puffery can do for them has been done; they
walk in silk attire, and their hair is what is technically termed
dressed. Some of them bring their children, bedizened like dolls, and
mimicking mamma's gestures and genuflexion in a manner more provoking
to sadness than to satire. If the dressing is elaborate, the crossing
is also. It does not consist of one simple cross, "_in nomine Patris_,"
etc.; they seem to make three or four crosses from forehead to chin,
and conclude by kissing the thumb-nail, in honor of what we could not
imagine. Entering the middle aisle, which is divided from the rest by a
row of seats on either side, they choose their position, and motion to
the dark attendant to spread the carpet. Some of them evince
considerable strategic skill in the selection of their ground. All
being now in readiness, they drop on their knees, spread their
flounces, cross themselves, open their books, and look about them.
Their attendants retire a little, spread a handkerchief on the ground,
and modestly kneel behind them, obviously expecting to be saved with
the family. These are neatly, sometimes handsomely dressed. In this
status things remain until the music of the regiment is heard. With a
martial sound of trumpets it enters the church, and fills the aisles,
the officers taking place within the chancel, and a guard-of-honor of
eight soldiers ranging on either side of the officiating priest. And
now our devotions begin in good earnest; for, simultaneously with the
regiment, the _jeunesse doree_ of Matanzas has made its appearance, and
has spread itself along the two long lines of demarcation which
separate the fair penitents from the rest of the congregation. The
ladies now spread their flounces again, and their eyes find other
occupation than the dreary Latin of their missals. There is, so to
speak, a lively and refreshing time between the youths of both sexes,
while the band plays its utmost, and _Evangel_, _Kyrie_, and _Credo_
are recited to the music of Trovatore and Traviata. That child of four
years old, dressed in white and gold flounces, and white satin boots
with heels, handles her veil and uses her eyes like mamma, eager for
notice, and delighted with the gay music and uniforms. The moment comes
to elevate the Host, thump goes the drum, the guard presents arms, and
the soldiers, instead of kneeling, bend forward, in a most
uncomfortable manner. Another thump, and all that is over; the swords
are returned to their sheaths, and soon, the loud music coming to an
end, the regiment marches out of church, very much as it marched in,
its devotional experiences being known to Heaven alone. Ladies and
lovers look their last, the flounces rise in pyramids, the
prayer-carpets are rolled up, and, with a silken sweep and rush, Youth,
Beauty, and Fashion forsake the church, where Piety has hardly been,
and go home to breakfast. To that comfortable meal you also betake
yourself, musing on the small heads and villanous low foreheads of the
Spanish soldiery, and wondering how long it would take a handful of
resolute Yankees to knock them all into--But you are not a filibuster,
you know.

THE PASEO--THE PLAZA--DINING OUT.

"As this Sunday is Carnival, you cannot do better than drive about the
city, and then go to the Plaza to see the masks. My partner's wife,
with whom you have now so comfortably breakfasted, will call for you in
her _volante_, between five and six o'clock. She will show you the
Paseo, and we will go and see the masks afterwards."

So spoke a banker, who, though not _our_ banker, is our friend, and
whose kind attentions we shall ever recall, when we remember Cuba. So
he spoke, and so it befell. The pretty American lady, Cubanized into
paleness, but not into sallowness, called at the appointed hour, and,
in her company, we visited the principal streets, and the favorite
drive of the Matanzasts. The Paseo is shorter than that of Havana, but
much prettier. We found it gay with _volantes_, whose fair occupants
kept up an incessant bowing and smiling to their friends in carriages
and on horseback. The Cubans are generally good riders, and their
saddle-horses have the easiest and pleasantest gait imaginable. The
heat of the climate does not allow the severe exercise of trot and
gallop, and so these creatures go along as smoothly and easily as the
waves of the sea, and are much better broken to obedience. The ladies
of Matanzas seem to possess a great deal of beauty, but they abuse the
privilege of powder, and whiten themselves with _cascarilla_ to a
degree that is positively ghastly. This _cascarilla_ is formed by the
trituration of eggshells; and the oval faces whitened with it resemble
a larger egg, with features drawn on it in black and red. In spite of
this, they are handsome; but one feels a natural desire to rush in
amongst them with a feather duster, and lay about one a little, before
giving an available opinion of their good looks.

If the Paseo was gay, the streets of the city were gay also; the
windows filled with faces and figures in full dress, with little groups
of children at the feet of the grown people, like the two world-famous
cherubs at the feet of the Madonna di San Sisto. There were crowds of
promenaders too, everywhere, interspersed with parties of maskers, who
went about screaming at the public with high, shrill voices. Leaving
the _volante_, we descend to the Plaza, where is now the height and
centre of movement. We find it flanked on all sides with little movable
kitchens, where good things are cooked, and with tables, where they are
sold and eaten. Fried cakes, fish, and meats seem the predominant bill
of fare, with wine, coffee, and fruits. The masks are circulating with
great animation; men in women's clothes, white people disguised as
negroes, and negroes disguised as whites, prodigious noses, impossible
chins and foreheads; the stream of popular fancy ran chiefly in these
channels. We met processions consisting of a man carrying a rat in a
cage, and shouting out, "Catch this rat!" followed by a perfect
stampede of wild creatures, all yelling, "Catch that rat!" at the top
of their voices. The twanging of the guitar is heard everywhere,
accompanied by the high nasal voices of the natives, in various strains
of monotony. In some spots the music is more lively, accompanied by the
shaking of a gourd filled with dry seeds, which is called _ghiera_, and
whose "chick-a-chick, chick-chick" takes the place of the more poetical
castanets;--here you find one or more couples exhibiting their skill in
Cuban dances, with a great deal of applause and chattering from the
crowd around. Beside those of the populace, many aristocratic groups
parade the Plaza, in full dress, crowned with flowers and jewels;--a
more motley scene can hardly be imagined. Looking up, one sees in
curious contrast the tall palms with which the Plaza is planted, and
the quiet, wondering stars set in the deep tropical heavens.

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