The performances begin with a stirring drama in a prologue and three acts, ent.i.tled "Flor de un Dia." The tone of this very favourite piece would, without doubt, be questioned by a Lord Chamberlain, but as it contains no political offence, it meets with the unqualified approval of his Excellency the Spanish Censor.
Before the curtain rises, the manager peeps through a small glazed hole, in the centre of the act-drop, and surveys the audience. The house is full, "de bote en bote," as the newspapers afterwards express it. His Excellency the Governor, attended by his staff of officers, occupies the big stage box on the left of the proscenium, and there is a goodly sprinkling of Spaniards in every part of the theatre.
Of course I have many friendly "hands" in the house. The English and American consuls are in their respective palcos. Nicasio is seated in the third row of the stalls, together with Tunicu, Bimba, and a host of their Pollo companions. Don Benigno, Dona Mercedes and their daughters and friends, are also present; and Cachita and her parents occupy their favourite private box.
Most foreign plays are divided into "escenas," and the farce of "Los Mocitos del Dia" contains no less than twenty-four. My "call" is for scene nine, so after the second act of the drama, I go to my dressing-room and arrange my "make-up" for the Cubanised Yankee.
Agreeably to the Cuban notion of American costume, I don a suit of dark-coloured winter clothing, together with a red flannel shirt, heavy hob-nailed boots, and an engineer"s broad-peaked cap. Similarly, I apply cosmetic to my hair, which I comb flat and lank; I rouge my cheeks and nose plentifully with crimson colour, attach a thick tuft of hair to my chin, and with the aid of burnt cork give to my naturally round face a lantern-jawed, cadaverous appearance.
When the curtain has fallen upon the three-act drama, my dressing-room is besieged by a host of Cuban friends, who have come to wish me success and to inspect my make-up behind the scenes. All congratulate me on my effective disguise, and promise to a.s.sist towards giving me a warm reception.
Nicasio remains with me till the last moment, to run over my part again, put the finishing touches to my toilette and inspire me with confidence.
But now the big bell, summoning all stragglers to their places, is heard, the audience resume their seats, and the curtain rises for "Los Mocitos del Dia."
The scene of the farce is laid in the interior of a "ventorillo," or fruiterer"s shop, in Cuba, with real bananas, plantains, sugar-cane, cocoa-nuts, mangoes, Panama hats, and limp hand-baskets distributed about the stage. Juana, the mulatto girl--attired in a low-necked, short-sleeved cotton gown and a coloured turban--is discovered smoking an enormous cigar, and washing clothes in a kind of flat tub, called in Creole vernacular a "batea." She soliloquises in the drawling nasal tone peculiar to her race, and adopts a Spanish _patois_ which abounds in abbreviated words, suppressed s"s, unlisped z"s, and s-sounding c"s.
After singing the "Candelita," a favourite Cuban ditty, Juana discourses upon her master Don Gabriel"s objections to "lo mocito," as she calls them, and describes their rakish habits.
Enter Teresita"s lover, Ramon.
The "mocito" desires an uninterrupted interview with his mistress, and offers to bribe the mulatto with silver "medios" if she will warn the lovers of the "enemy"s" approach by singing the "Candelita" outside.
Juana accepts the bribe, which she places carefully within the folds of her turban after the fashion of her tribe, and vanishes in quest of her young mistress.
Enter Teresita.--"Valgame Dios! Ramon?"
Ramon.--"Teresita de mi vida!" (Love-scene.)
Teresita refers to her father"s dislike to "los mocitos," whom Don Gabriel declares to have no occupations save those of gambling and dancing, and who go about "perfumed with eau-de-Cologne and violet powder." Her papa"s notion of a model son-in-law is an individual who savours of the workshop. Such a man Don Gabriel has discovered in the person of Mister Charles (p.r.o.nounced Charleys), the engineer of Don Hermenejildo Sanchez" sugar estate.
Ramon is disgusted with this information.
"What!" he exclaims, "you married to a "fogonero"--a stoker! I will never consent to such a union--first because of my deeply-rooted love for you, and secondly because of my patriotic feeling on the subject.
This is a question of race, Teresita mia. It is war between coal and cafe-a fight between brandy and bananas. Yes; rosbif _versus_ fufu.
Mister Charleys is a bisteque (beefsteak), and I am your tasajito con platanito verde machucado!" (a favourite Creole dish).
The infatuated fruiterer is, nevertheless, resolved to make up a match between his daughter and the industrious mechanic, and, accordingly, brings Mister Charleys home with him.
Mister Charleys, who has fortified himself with a strong stimulant, is waiting at the wing for his cue, in company with the "call-boy" (an old man in this instance), who holds a copy of cues in one hand and a lighted candle in the other. The call-boy whispers "Fuera!" as a signal for me to disappear from the wing, gives me an encouraging push, and the gloom behind the scenes is suddenly exchanged for a blaze of gas, and a theatre full of enthusiastic spectators.
Following Don Gabriel, who leads the way, I am greeted with a round of hearty applause in acknowledgement of my effective make-up, and when I give utterance to the opening words, in which reference is made to the heat of the weather, and to the difficulties Mister Charleys has encountered in his quest after refreshment, the house is convulsed.
Some time, however, elapses before I can thoroughly appreciate my situation, and realise the fact that all this applause and laughter is due to my appearance on the stage. I easily overcome the temporary agitation induced by the glare of the lamps and the gaze of the hundreds of upturned faces before me; but I cannot withstand the behaviour of the gentleman in the domed trap. His perpetual prompting, combined with his perceptible enjoyment of the new piece, is, to say the least of it, confusing, and fills me with misgivings of a premature "hitch."
The play proceeds. I am formally introduced to the ladies, whose hands I squeeze awkwardly and savagely, while Don Gabriel--whom I address as Don Guebriel--sings the praises of Mister Charleys.
Enter my rival Ramon, disguised as a Catalan shopkeeper, in false whiskers, and a tall white hat with a black band. Shopkeepers in Cuba are usually natives of Barcelona, and the object of Ramon"s disguise, is to persuade Don Gabriel that he is one of that money-making community.
He talks Spanish with the approved Catalonian accent; introduces himself as "Dun Panchu Defulou, Cutulan y c.u.merciante," and offers to traffic with his host. The imposture is, however, short-lived. In a hard squeeze of the hand which I give the sham Catalan at parting, he inadvertently roars out in a good Creole accent:--
"Ay! ay! ay! caramba, suelte usted." (Oh! for goodness" sake, let go!)
The old gentleman suspects his maiden sister of aiding and abetting the dangerous "mocito," and there is every reason for his suspicion; Dona Lola having persuaded herself that it is she, and not her young niece, who is the object of the "mocito"s" solicitations. Deluded with this notion, the elderly spinster facilitates Ramon"s visit to the house, and there is a scene in which she helps to conceal him in a huge barrel used for storing charcoal. One of the chief "situations" in the farce occurs when Don Gabriel, at the instigation of Mister Charleys (whom Ramon nicknames Mister Estornudo, or Sneezer, from the resemblance of his name to a sneeze as expressed in Spanish), fires a loaded pistol at the barrel and its human contents.
It is during the action of this scene that the questionable phrase, already referred to, should be delivered by the Yankee engineer.
The cue being given, I am in the act of repeating the lines, when the voice of Don Baltazar, the manager, to whom is apportioned the role of Ramon, is heard imploring me, from the barrel, to omit the words.
Conscious of the presence of his Excellency the Governor, the manager is suddenly seized with misgivings as to the manner in which the expression will be received, and will not risk his Excellency"s displeasure. My fellow-comedians, who are all Cubans, urge me to proceed. The prompter thinks I have forgotten my part, and repeats the text--so often, indeed, that the spectators in the third row of the stalls at last overhear him, and call unanimously for the correct version of the play.
"These poor Span---- " I begin. The barrel trembles visibly.
"Por Dios," hisses the manager, bobbing up from the barrel like an undecided Jack-in-the-box--"for Heaven"s sake, don"t compromise me!"
The audience begin to show signs of impatience. Again the prompter maddens me by giving the text.
Myself (_aside to prompter_): "Bar--ajo! sir, I know my part."
Mister Charleys (_very loud to audience_): "These poor Spanish brutes want civilising badly!"
"Bravo! Muy bien!" from the Cuban party.
Groans and loud whistling from the Spaniards.
"That was well said!" observes a voice.
"Fuera!" (Turn him out!) observes another.
"It was a good home-thrust!" cries the first.
"Fuera ese hombre!" (Turn out that man!) shrieks voice number two.
"Polizia!" The theatrical president rises angrily from his box and summons the police.
The male spectators who occupy the pit-stalls begin to be as unruly as they are at a bull-fight. The ladies move from their boxes to the lobbies.
The censor is sent for by the president. The manager is charged to appear by the censor; and anon Ramon, _alias_ Don Baltazar Telon y Escotillon, his face and dress besmeared with charcoal, steps into the president"s "palco."
"Bravo! Bien!" from the audience, whose good-humour is at once restored by this new and unexpected diversion.
A mighty conference is held in the president"s box, and the matter of dispute is warmly discussed with suitable gesticulations. The question is, however, finally decided in favour of the manager.
Order being now established, the president"s box is cleared, the actors resume their positions on the stage, and the farce, which proves a great success, terminates happily.
When the performances are over, and I have attired myself in the costume of the country, I join my friends in the front of the house.
Don Benigno and his family congratulate me on my successful debut and express a hope that it will not be my last appearance on the Cuban stage.
Tunicu, Bimba and others of my Pollo friends overwhelm me with compliments, and as soon as I am at liberty, they hurry me and Nicasio off to the nearest cafe, where a substantial supper is soon provided.
Cachita and her relations are equally warm in their praises, and Cachita"s father, Don Severiano--to whom I am for the first time introduced--very much rewards my efforts, by inviting me to pa.s.s a few days, during the approaching summer, at his coffee estate, whither he and his family are bound.