Cuba has been on the altar for sacrifice several years. The United States have been looking for some time toward the event of its severance from Spain, when it would gravitate toward her for protection. The present movement is being made because the people have no voice in their own government; they are overburdened with taxes to support declining royalty from Spain, for the purpose of making laws and administering them. Would an embassy of Americans, with authority from Washington, be more acceptable to the Cubans than their present rulers? Does our administration now evince that efficiency, justice, and prowess to protect the unprotected, and strengthen the weak, which would encourage a feeble foreign principality to seek an asylum beneath the “stars and stripes,” where a shelter free from discord and contention could be furnished as a refuge in times of danger? Does not the successful warfare in which it has been engaged for a number of years indicate the first fundamental principles of self-government and defense? How terrible the fate of all insurgents when captured, at the sight of which humanity sickens! and yet they neither appear intimidated nor appalled. The victim for execution is led out at the dawn of day, with no escort but the priest and executioner. Upon his bended knees he repeats his prayers after the padre. The condemned man is then shot in the back, his head cut off, his body thrown in a cart, and carried to a pit, where it is tumbled in and left. No words of extenuation, no excuse or quarter, is tolerated for an instant.
Within twenty miles of Cienfuegos, among the mountains, there has numbered a force of rebels somewhere in the vicinity of twelve thousand. Their movements show both strategy and strength—their mode of warfare the guerilla. Over a month since four hundred troops were landed here from Spain, and shortly afterward ordered into an engagement, or to make an attack upon the insurgents. They were not regulars—some of them beardless youths. When the fray was over, it is said but one escaped, because he had a better horse than his pursuers. The destruction of this force was only a before-breakfast pastime for the rebels. They are now constantly making incursions upon the planters, firing fields of cane, sugar-mills, and, before the work of destruction is half finished, they are miles away, strewing desolation wherever they pass. The Cuban rebellion is no longer of infantile growth; the entire inefficiency of the volunteers, who go racing about the country, is plainly to be seen. Every thing pertaining to military movements is shrouded with an air of mystery. When the wounded and dying are brought in on the cars, guards are placed at the doors—no person but surgeons admitted, no questions answered, or satisfaction given to outsiders. It is shocking to see a country of such luxuriance and beauty fall a prey to the unrelenting hand of war, which gluts itself with human gore, and is only satiated when the fiend of destruction has no more blood to shed, or conquests to make.
“La Purisima Conception” is the name of the only church in the city. It has two towers and ten bells. The tallest tower was erected to contain a clock, and afterward the church was built around it, thus rendering the style of architecture any thing but imposing. The materials used are stone and brick, with marble floors. It is singular to see a people among whose progenitors in Spain the Christian religion was first planted by the apostles themselves, cherish so little zeal in regard to the observance of its ordinances in any way. The congregation outside is larger than the number of worshipers inside, on Sabbath morning. The men stand about the entrance, and make remarks about those going into church, as though they were engaged in the path of duty. Their conduct is a reminder that the chivalric days of elegant address and lordly demeanor are passing away from the Spanish people who reside this side of the water. At 8 o’clock A.M. the best society residents come out to worship. In a population of ten thousand souls a goodly number might be expected to witness the imposing ceremonial of a high mass on Sabbath morning. The church has an elegant interior, the architecture being Doric, the arched roof supported by numerous pilasters. At the terminus of the nave is placed the grand altar, ornamented with images of dazzling brightness and golden candlesticks of gigantic proportions, containing immense wax candles, which, when lighted, shed a star-like luster. There are also eight other altars of less dimensions, where the more humble kneel to receive consolation. The priest looks as ancient as the religion he represents, and chants mass with an intonation that would be creditable to one less in years. With fine music, choice paintings from Spanish and Italian masters, representing saints preceded by a record of unsullied purity, upon which were beaming subdued rays of light through stained glass of rare design and workmanship, besides all that could be attractive in a church and service combined, there were only about fifty persons present, including white and black. The edifice was designed to seat only a few of the congregation. A noticeable peculiarity in attending worship here is that each lady-worshiper is accompanied by a servant, who carries a low cane-seated chair for her mistress to occupy during service, and an elegant rug made of long, soft cashmere goat’s hair, beautifully dyed, which is placed in front of the chair. On this mat the mistress kneels to repeat her devotional exercises, with an ease which would have been considered quite sacrilegious by St. Francis, or any of those old hair-shirt-wearing friars. The servant in attendance, if young, kneels by the side of her mistress upon the marble tiles, where she is expected to repeat all the prayers connected with the ritual. If she is seen gazing about, as an admonition to give attention to her religious duties, she receives a tap on the head from her mistress’s hand, which causes her lips to move again, and her eyes to cease their voyages of discovery. Old servants kneel behind their mistress, and go through the forms of worship as a religious duty and safeguard against sin. At 11 o’clock A.M. the poor people attend church in the same place; the heat is too fervent for the rich to venture out then. Spiritual consolation is a commodity not much sought after in this market by rich or poor, if the numbers in attendance are any criterion. What few are assembled go through the service in a hurried, business-like manner, which has no soul in it.
The plaza in Cienfuegos is the largest on the island. It is kept in order by the coolies—a race of people brought from the mountains of Asia, which forms the most numerous servile population in the country. At night it is the scene of a grand display, or military parade. The band comes from the barracks, surrounded by a military escort, near which no one is permitted to pass. The guards are all extremely tall, dark, well-formed men, being of Moorish origin. While on duty they stand as mute and motionless as statuary, with their guns pointing upward, but ready for instant action at the word of command. It is here the chill winds never come, and drape the foliage in somber hues—the flowers are always blooming, sweet as dreams borne on angels’ wings. To this plaza, at night, the entire population of the city resort for recreation, and to breathe the fresh air. The grounds are divided into parterres, laid out at right angles, through which are wide avenues, paved with flat rocks. In the center is a fountain and grotto, near which are four marble statues representing the seasons. No fabled habitation of the genii, or enchanting description of the Isle of Calypso, could fill the imagination with more delightful emotions than the real scene before us. The bright moonbeams come stealing softly through the scarlet hibiscus, and feathery palms wave their graceful wands above our heads, while the most gentle zephyrs fan our brows with their blandest breeze, and every thing seems tipped with silver sheen, and too unreal for earth. The gay and beautiful señoritas soon commence promenading, many of them dressed in white, with long, starched trains to their robes, and skirts that swept over the paved boulevards with a rushing sound, like the waves plashing against a vessel, although the accompaniment of shuffling sandals and slip-shod slippers of the men make a grinding noise nothing suggestive of grace or elegance. The music soon struck up, with its most fascinating strains; everybody seemed to partake of its harmonious cadence, and commenced moving about with the grace of sylphs. The soldiers and police, with their brusquiere movements, were the only ones present not given up to the most perfect abandon for enjoyment. Among other choice and beautiful pieces, the band played Il Trovatore. The melody seemed intensified by the same pathos that seized the mind of the great composer when he wrote it; and as its sounds died away among the moonbeams and perennial foliage, while its echoes lingered in the air, the surroundings appeared too beautiful for any thing but the culmination of all on earth that might be termed grand.
CHAPTER XXVI.
SEEKING information with reference to distances while in Cuba will be found an adventurous enterprise. The answer you receive is, “Far as the voice of a countryman, or the crowing of a cock,” which you find after traveling two or three leagues just beyond. The following are the correct distances across the island by railway: From Cienfuegos to Cruces, nineteen miles; from Cruces to Santo Domingo, twenty-four miles; from Santo Domingo to Matanzas, eighty miles; from Matanzas to Havana, sixty-six miles. Many suppose Cuba has no railroads, except some on which an attempt to ride would imperil their safety, which is a great mistake. The roads are in the hands of the Government, being well built, and the speed all that could be desired. Three kinds of passenger-cars are placed at the disposal of travelers—first, second, and third class. The first class are not cushioned, but have willow-wrought backs and seats to make them cool. Few, except foreigners, ride in them. The second class have cushioned seats, and more passengers. The soldiers also ride in these. The third class cars have seats without backs or cushions on them. The majority of Cubans have no pride in regard to their mode of traveling. These uncomfortable cars are literally packed. Here we see the elegantly-dressed lady, with her crape shawl and embroidered veil—gentlemen-planters, coolies, the blackest slaves on the island—all listening to the blind musician playing on his guitar, while his wife and he are singing their Spanish melodies and gathering up the dinero which the kind-hearted people give them.
The smell of garlic and tobacco are two odorous substances with which travelers in Cuba must become accustomed. Passengers all smoke in every car—the interrogation never being used, Is smoking offensive? Everybody seems trying to pull the greatest possible amount of pleasure from the Havana weed. A vast number of cigars and cigarettes vanish in a short space of time.
As the train started from Cruces, a quiet shower distilled itself. It rains in Cuba without threatening skies or any visible preparation. There is no rolling up of squadrons into threatening ranks, the moisture appearing to come from nowhere. The shower was like beauty blushing through tears, the skies were so lovely, and the rain-drops very gentle. It is harvest-time now on the island. Every thing is hurry and rush, while both men and beasts are, many of them, driven to death. When we stopped at the first station it was early in the morning, and day was breaking. Carts, drawn by oxen and loaded with sugar-hogsheads which had come from miles away, were standing there. Poor brutes! What a look of subjugation they all have, with an immense ring through their noses, and no yoke around their necks but a small one fastened to their heads and horns, by which the loads are drawn! These oxen are of immense size, with tremendously long horns. They are not the Florida stock of cattle, but brought from Mexico. They drive them with goads, or sharpened pieces of iron, which are very severe. Nothing is treated so badly here as the patient ox, the mortality among them being greater than all the other animals combined. Acres of sugar-hogsheads now cover the grounds around the depots. The wealth of the country—that before which all other products sink into insignificance—is the rich sugar-cane, supplying more than half the world with its saccharine deposits. The cane raised here is three per cent. richer than that raised in the Southern States. It grows from four to eight feet in height, according to the fertility of the soil. It is now March, and the summit of the cane is crowned with its useful blooms, which are gathered and dried for upholstering purposes, while the leaves are cut and used for the sustenance of stock, which are herded, watched, and fed, night and day, when not working. In passing through the country we frequently see, remote from any dwelling, small tents stretched over a cot-bed. Here is where the coolie cattle-herder sleeps. The heavy dews, with the hot sunshine at midday, to which they are exposed, must finish out the existence of these poor wretches very soon.
The mornings being a little airy now, the agents come out, on the arrival of the train, dressed in the capa parada, or long brown cloth cloaks, with capes which hang over their shoulders. Below is seen a pair of legs dressed in white, supported by a pair of feet covered with their birthday stockings and leather sandals. This constitutes the uniform of both agents and loafers, worn by them when making their début from a hasty morning toilet. Travelers, in going through the country now, pass the day in varied vicissitudes of thought and feelings. It is no secret that a war is progressing in Cuba which may end in a Santo Domingo massacre, or, like the Kilkenny cats, continue fighting until they destroy each other. More soldiers are traveling on the trains than citizens—their uniforms being made of light-blue striped linen, with scarlet cuffs, and their hats of Panama, turned up on the left side, on which is fastened a red and yellow cockade. This style of dress seems to be intended as a mark of loyalty to the Spanish Government, used more for a badge of their principles than a uniform designed for those in actual service, as it is worn by men too old for duty, and boys too young for enlistment. The men are all armed with guns, knives, and pistols, until they look like moving arsenals, Barracks are stationed on the railroad at every town of any size, while cavalry soldiers, armed with carbines, go dashing about in all directions. The Cuban saddle-horses are evidently related to the Arabian stock brought from Spain; they are pretty, graceful, docile, easy-gaited creatures. The cavalry braid their horses’ tails, then tie them to the saddles with red and yellow ribbons. When they ride up to a store or hotel, they hitch them under the front veranda. A Spaniard told me “that it was because they were too lazy to walk, and they rode into the house.”
The insurgents are more to be dreaded, in the adoption of their present tactics, than regularly organized troops. They are acquainted with every portion of the country—all its defiles and elevations—with their methods and places for secure retreat always selected. They dart about like sunbeams, dealing destruction to every thing in their reach with the celerity of hurricanes. The regular vocations of life are interrupted—all the energies of the nation being expended on arms, and not on arts, which has already sounded the death-knell to their national prosperity. Many Spaniards are now nursing the delusion of peace, but it is only a shadow, evanescent as the gorgeous hues which deck their evening skies. Foreigners, as they pass through the country, feel some anxiety for their safety when they approach the track of the insurgents so close as to see the smoking ruins of burning sugar-houses. Strangers who visit here now, with proper passports and correct deportment, will be protected. Persons who either cannot or will not give any account of themselves are regarded with suspicion, which is the same in all countries that are in a state of insurrection.