Cuba Past and Present

by Richard Davey

The era of prosperity, which for nearly a quarter of a century, staved off open revolt, began to decline between 1822 to 1837. The United States had consolidated, and their increasing trade interfered considerably with that of the whole West Indian Archipelago. Spain, meanwhile, had gradually settled back into her old mediæval ways—enlivened by palace scandals and military Pronunciamentos. The series of governors who succeeded Tacon were, with but few exceptions, a worthless set, and the crowd of minor officials who accompanied them were mere leeches, whose sole object was to seize every possible opportunity, legitimate or illegitimate, for lining their own pockets. Ridiculous taxes, unreasonable dues and fees, were invented and imposed. When the unfortunate Cubans raised an outcry against this wholesale robbery, they were treated as rebels, and not a few,—chiefly members of the various secret societies,—were arrested and imprisoned, and even executed, without trial.[9]

In 1835 the Cubans claimed to have their interests represented in the National Cortes by native members. The request was treated with a contempt that will never be forgotten nor forgiven. From that day, a feeling of bitter hatred and distrust has utterly severed the Cuban population from its Spanish brethren. Ties of blood have been torn asunder, and the sad truth that a family feud exceeds all others in bitterness, has received fresh and inevitable confirmation. The earlier insurrections of the century were invariably accompanied by the same cruel reprisals on both sides. But they brought about no permanent improvement in the condition of the people. Spain continued her obsolete and selfish policy; Cuba never ceased to rebel.

The revolutionary period of 1848 did not, as may well be imagined, pass without leaving its mark on the island. Strange as it may seem, the starting point of the fresh series of rebellions was the pretty Filarmonia Theatre, at Santiago de Cuba, where, some forty years ago, the fascinating Adelina Patti made her début. In the winter of 1850 General Lopez led a filibustering expedition from the United States, with the object of seizing Cuba, and proclaiming her independence. That his attempt was favoured, and even financially assisted, by many Americans, is an undoubted fact; but, unfortunately for its promoters, it was a signal failure. A number of hot-headed young men,—some of them belonging to the best families in the island—suspected of favouring Lopez and his companions, were arrested, and several were shot, without form of trial. As may well be imagined, the impression produced in the ancient capital of the Eastern Province, and indeed throughout the island, by this violent action on the part of the Spanish authorities, was profound, and the feeling soon reached such a pitch that no native-born Cuban would be seen speaking to a Spaniard. The Carnival gaieties were suspended, and the city was thrown into deep mourning. The Spaniards, resolved to mark their contempt for the islanders, gave a ball at the Filarmonia. Groups of young Cubans forced their way through the terrified dancers, and proceeded to insult and disfigure a portrait of Queen Isabella II. The confusion was terrible, and many ladies were severely hurt. Yet the incident was allowed to pass without any attempt being made to discover and punish the offenders, who, by-the-way, were masked. A few weeks afterwards, a Cuban lady of high rank and great wealth, hoping to cast oil on troubled waters, hired the same hall, and sent out invitations for a tertullia, to which she bade representatives of both the belligerent parties. The consequences were ghastly. The Spanish officers and the Cuban jeunesse dorée found themselves, suddenly and unexpectedly, face to face. An unlucky jest, at the expense of an old Spanish officer, fired the mine, and in a moment the ball-room was in an uproar, and the scene of gaiety changed to one of combat. Ladies fainted, and were trampled under foot, chandeliers fell smashing to the ground, and the most awful and horrible confusion ensued. Five or six people were killed—amongst them a Spanish lady of distinction—and nearly a hundred persons were seriously hurt. As to the luckless hostess, she betook herself to Europe at the earliest possible opportunity, and there remained; but from that day to this the incidents at the Filarmonia Ball have never been forgotten in Cuba. Some of the young brawlers were arrested, and certain of them,—youths belonging to the richest families in the city,—were imprisoned in the Morro Castle, and thence transported to Ceuta, the Spanish penal station in Morocco, whence they never returned.

For some years after this gloomy event, Cuba went from bad to worse, de mal em peyor. But it would be useless, and, indeed, merely confusing, at this date, to enter into the details of what is, after all, merely the local history of a bye-gone time. The weak Government of Queen Isabella, which lacked even the faintest sense of providence, continued to exploit Cuba in every possible manner, and to send out needy generals, and pauper nobles, to act as Governors. In the meantime, as it may be interesting, at this juncture, to recall, the United States had already cast longing eyes on the fair Queen of the Antilles. An almost forgotten episode of this period was brought to light, but the other day, in the pages of the Fortnightly Review. In a most interesting article, Mme. Colmache, the venerable and distinguished widow of Talleyrand's last secretary, gives a terse and singularly interesting account of an intrigue, all the details of which are in her personal recollection. It seems that fifty years ago, Louis Philippe, seized with a desire for territorial aggrandisement, took advantage of Spain's poverty to make overtures for the purchase, not only of Cuba, but of Puerto Rico and the Philippines. As a matter of fact, the deal would have been actually concluded, but for the French monarch's parsimony. Queen Christina's representative in Paris, Señor Campanuzo, was instructed to ask 30,000,000 reals for Cuba, and 10,000,000 for Puerto Rico and the Philippines. The terms for the purchase of Cuba and Puerto Rico having been agreed, the treaty was to have been signed at the Tuileries. But at the last moment, the Bourgeois King demanded that the Philippines should be thrown in free; and so firmly did he insist, that the Spanish representative could only declare that the treaty had better be thrown into the fire. This course was actually pursued.

Twenty years later another offer for the purchase of Cuba, and a far more offensive one, was made by the United States. In the year 1860, President Buchanan greatly alarmed the Spanish Government, by a message as threatening in its nature as that recently despatched by President M'Kinley to the advisers of Queen Christina, at Madrid. Its purport may be expressed as follows, although, to be sure, the matter was not quite so plainly couched, but the inference could not be misunderstood. "Circumstances and destiny absolutely require that the United States should be masters of the island of Cuba. That we should take it by filibustering or violence is not in accordance with our national genius. It will suit our character and honesty much better to obtain it by purchase. Let us therefore offer a fair price for it. If that fair price[10] shall be refused, we, of course, shall have a casus belli. Spain will have injured us, and we may declare war. Under these circumstances, we should probably obtain the place without purchase, but we will hope for better things."

This domineering proposal to annex Cuba by purchase was indignantly refused at Madrid; but Mr Anthony Trollope, who happened to be in the island at the time the proposition was made, tells us it elicited the greatest possible enthusiasm there. "The plea," he writes, "under which Mr Buchanan proposes to quarrel with Spain, if she will not sell that which America wishes to buy, is the plea under which Ahab quarrelled with Naboth. A man is individually disgusted that a President of the United States should have made such an utterance. But looking at the question from a broader point of view, one can hardly refrain from rejoicing at any event which will tend to bring about that which in itself is so desirable." After all, California had been purchased from Spain by the United States, and Texas had been annexed by filibustering incursions. There can be no question that both these States, though peopled by Spaniards, precisely as Cuba was, had flourished exceedingly under the star-spangled banner. Mr Trollope gives us a picture of the public mind in Cuba in 1860, which convinces us the local opinion has undergone very little change since his day. That which he wrote thirty-eight years ago reads exactly as if it had been penned yesterday. He says—"From such information as I could obtain, I am of opinion that the Cubans themselves would be glad enough to see the transfer well effected. How, indeed, can it be otherwise? At present they have no national privilege, except that of undergoing taxation. Every office is held by a Spaniard. Every soldier in the island—and they say there are 25,000—must be a Spaniard. The ships of war are commanded and manned by Spaniards. All that is shown before their eyes of brilliance, and power, and high place, is purely Spanish. No Cuban has any voice in his own country. He can never have the consolation of thinking that his tyrant is his countryman, or reflect that, under altered circumstances, it might possibly have been his fortune to tyrannize. What love can he have for Spain? He cannot even have the poor pride of being slave to a great lord. He is the lackey of a reduced gentleman, and lives on the vails of those who despise his manners. Of course the transfer would be grateful to him."

"But no Cuban will himself do anything to bring it about. To wish is one thing, to act is another. A man standing behind his counter may feel that his hand is restricted on every side, and his taxes alone unrestricted, but he must have other than Hispano-Creole blood in his veins if he do more than stand and feel. Indeed, wishing is too strong a word to be fairly applicable to his state of mind. He would gladly consent that Cuba should be American, but he would prefer that he himself should lie in a dormant state while the dangerous transfer is going on."

The United States, whose hands were soon busied by the outbreak of their own Civil War, dropped the Cuban proposal, and the whole question remained in abeyance for some considerable time. Meanwhile matters had reached an unendurable pitch. It was almost impossible for a Cuban to obtain justice, and the Governor and his Spanish satellites continued their systematic methods of bribery and corruption. Yet money was plentiful in the island, where the commercial class had been immensely swelled by numerous American and English fortune-hunters, who had purchased large estates from impoverished Cubans, and had started sugar and tobacco-growing on an improved system in various parts of the island. In 1865, the Cubans, driven to despair by the vexatious treatment of their rulers, addressed a petition to Queen Isabella II., which bore not less than 20,000 signatures, and implored Her Majesty to consider the pitiable condition into which Spain's most splendid possession had fallen, and to send out a Commission to inquire into the abuses which rendered their lives unendurable, and prevented them from earning an honest living for themselves and their children. Not the least of these abuses were capricious and questionable management of the Banca Espanōl, the only bank in the island. In answer to this petition, the Junta created a body of twenty-two Cuban commissioners and twenty-two Spanish, which original number, however, was unjustly increased by the admission of a perfect army of Spanish nobles and officials. The Cuban members, thus left in a minority, were not very hopeful of obtaining much benefit from the Commission. They made a sensible proposal for the gradual diminution of the taxes, especially those connected with the export trade, and submitted a plan for the gradual emancipation of the slaves. One of their principal schemes for diminishing taxation,—by the substitution of a direct tax on the total revenue, instead of the existing vexatious system of indefinite and capricious taxes on the export and import trades,—was rejected, or rather it was turned against their real interests. The Custom House duties were cunningly diminished, and the tax on the total revenue of the island raised from five to ten per cent,—a clear case of robbing Peter to pay Paul, which exasperated the island population beyond measure. The arrangement of the question of the abolition of negro slavery was also eminently unsatisfactory. A decree provided that newly-born slave children should be considered free, and that all slaves over fifty years of age should be immediately emancipated. I have elsewhere pointed out the unfortunate results of this system. The slave trade continued in Cuba up till 1886, and during that time, notwithstanding all the treaties signed between England and Spain, several hundred thousand African negroes are said to have been imported into Cuba, and sold with the connivance of the officials, who levied a private tax of a gold doubloon, or about £3, on every woolly head so purchased. To quote Mr Trollope once more—"The bribery and corruption that goes on in Cuba is known to everyone, and best known to the Government of Spain. Under these circumstances, who can feel sympathy with Spain, or wish that she should retain her colonies? Does she not daily show she is unfit to hold them? There must be some stage in misgovernment which will justify the interference of bystanding nations, in the name of humanity. That rule in life which forbids a man to come between a husband and wife is a good rule. But, nevertheless, who can stand by quiescent, and see a brute half murder the poor woman whom he should protect?"

At last the insurrection broke out in earnest at Yara, in the Eastern District. A number of determined men, assisted, undoubtedly, by the secret societies to which I have drawn attention in an earlier part of this chapter, commenced a systematic propagation of the theory that unless force were used, and the assistance of the United States and of the already emancipated States of South America secured, there was no chance of justice for Cuba. At the head of the movement was a man of very remarkable character, Carlos Manuel Cespedes. He was no penniless adventurer, but a Cuban gentleman of large means,—one of the wealthiest planters in the island. He was not at first inclined to sever the island from the mother-country, for he was, by nature, essentially loyal. Even before embarking upon his undertaking he warned the Spanish Government of his intention, and of the danger it ran by persisting in its old methods. A sincere Catholic, he refused to join in any of the overt anti-religious propaganda then so greatly in vogue among revolutionists. He desired to remain on friendly terms with the clergy of the island, but at the same time he hoped that, under a more liberal form of government, the Cuban clergy would administer the Catholic Church in the same progressive spirit which has made her so respected and powerful in the United States. To these fine qualities of heart and head Cespedes added the advantages of a noble presence and of an extraordinary oratorical talent.

In the beginning of 1865—the year of the petition to Queen Isabella,—Cespedes' plans were nearly matured, but for various reasons he did not intend the rebellion should break out before the autumn season. Unfortunately, the individual to whom the funds destined for the insurrection had been entrusted made off with the money, and betrayed the secrets of the organization to the Spaniards on condition that he was allowed to keep his booty. This act of treachery forced Cespedes' hand, and he was obliged to move earlier than he had originally intended. He found himself, not only without funds, but without arms. When his troops inquired what weapons they were to use in the coming struggle, he replied, with something of the spirit of an ancient Roman: "With those of our enemies" ("Con las de nos enemigos.") The few guns in his possession were distributed among his followers, and he, with his band of some 500 men of all degrees and, indeed, of all colours, started for Puerto de Buniatos, in the vicinity of Santiago. On the way they seized all the fire-arms they could find in every plantation they came across. For two months they remained encamped outside the city walls without being attacked by the handful of Spanish troops which composed the garrison. As a matter of fact, there were exceedingly few Spanish troops in Cuba at that moment—barely enough to keep order in the island. At the end of December, however, 30,000 troops were landed, and presently augmented by a body of volunteers collected from various parts of the island, among them a number of Catalan Cubans, who shortly proved themselves absolute savages. A number of Spanish warships also arrived in the ports of Havana and Santiago. Orders were sent from Madrid to use the sternest measures for the immediate suppression of the insurrection. The first step taken in this direction was the burning of the vast plantation owned by Cespedes himself. This was the signal for a series of massacres and reprisals all over the island. As if by magic, the absentee Spanish grandees' great plantations were set ablaze. Then the Spaniards fired the Cuban plantations, and in a few weeks a quarter of the island lay in ashes, and thousands of slaves and workmen wandered about idle, homeless, and starving. The insurgents, who were almost without arms, were obliged to take refuge in the interior of the island, where they raised the Cuban flag—the American stripes with one solitary star—and were soon joined by men, women, children, and slaves, all flying before the Spanish soldiery. The rebels installed themselves in the city of Bayamo, which for several weeks they contrived to hold against the enemy. A conspiracy on the part of certain Catalans, who had joined their forces, being discovered, the traitors were put to death. On learning this the Spaniards, who had encamped some miles from the city, suddenly appeared before its walls. Seeing resistance was hopeless, Cespedes, with the consent of the inhabitants, set the city on fire, rather than see it fall into the hands of the enemy. An awful massacre ensued, in which the Spanish soldiers spared neither man, woman, nor child. On the other hand, the rebels, it must be confessed, were guilty of the most horrible atrocities. In vain did Cespedes and his lieutenant, Ignacio Agramonte, implore their followers to remember that those who fought for liberty and progress must set the example of mercy. The rebel bands were not men like unto their leaders, gently born and carefully educated, but a horde gathered together out of every social class and every race, indeed, for thousands of plantation hands had fled their burning hovels, and taken up arms in a cause which they believed would lead them to liberty. Words fail to describe the scenes of horror which ensued. The dogs of war were let loose upon the unhappy island. Up and down it, from one end to the other, the plantations flamed. Towns and villages were laid in ruins, and to add to the terrors of the situation, famine and pestilence stalked the land, even as at the present moment. Hundreds of young Cubans, suspected of favouring the revolution, were arrested on the most flimsy pretexts. A jest, the wearing of a certain coloured flower, the whistling of a popular tune, were sufficient to work a man's ruin. The prisoners were shot in dozens, and shipped off by hundreds into penal servitude. By the end of 1868, the Spanish garrison consisted of not less than 80,000 men, all well armed, and whose officers, in their mad desire to stamp out the rebellion which had now assumed formidable proportions, laid no restraint on their subordinates' licence. In April of the following year a proclamation was issued by the Spanish Commander-in-Chief at Bayamo, which decreed that any individual over fifteen years of age found beyond the limits of his property and unable to give an account of himself, should be forthwith shot. All deserted houses, or all houses over which a white flag of truce did not float, in sign of peace and devotion to the Government, were to be immediately reduced to ashes. This order only increased the horrors of the situation. Scores of planters who were ignorant of its existence, and who were going peaceably on business intent between their plantations and the neighbouring towns, were shot by the soldiers, who were only too delighted to display their zeal and rob their victims, and hundreds of houses were pillaged.