At this juncture Cuban affairs began once more to attract universal attention in the United States. The interest taken in the rebellion and the rebels by our American cousins was not, in all probability, exclusively platonic. Whether this was the case or not, they contrived to supply the insurgents, not with money only, but with men and arms, so that the insurgent army rose in a short time to 55,000 well-armed men, mainly entrenched in the mountainous districts, whence they were able to make successful raids. On the 10th of April 1869, at the city of Guaimaro, in the very heart of the island, the first Cuban Chamber of Deputies was opened by Cespedes, and the new assembly forthwith proclaimed Cuban independence and the establishment of a republic. General Cespedes was unanimously elected President, and his brother-in-law, Manuel de Quesada, who had served under Juarez, of Mexican fame, assumed the name of commander-in-chief of the Cuban army. Slavery was formally abolished. Freedom of worship was established, and equality of all in the eyes of the law affirmed. The young Republic even ventured to send envoys to the three countries which had shown her most sympathy,—England, France, and the United States. The Envoy Extraordinary of Cuba to the United States of America, Morales Lumus, was, however, received with great coolness by General Grant, who steadfastly refused to recognise the new Government. As a matter of fact, whilst Cuba had been fighting for her independence, Spain had dethroned the kindly Queen Isabella, and replaced General Prim at the head of the Iberian Republic. The great Republic of the New World had naturally hailed the chief of a revolution which had driven Isabella II. from one of the oldest thrones in the Old World; while Prim, who was anything but the visionary he is generally supposed to have been, had arrived at the conclusion that Cuba cost the mother country far more than she was worth, and had actually proposed—through Hamilton Fish, then Secretary of State—the sale of the island of Cuba to the United States Government for a sum of 100,000,000 pesetas! It is only fair to add that, by the suggested agreement, America was to grant the island its independence, abolish slavery, and proclaim an armistice, pending the proclamation of peace. Poor Lumus' heart sank within him, for he knew the Spanish character by heart, and was perfectly well aware of what Prim was driving at. If he himself remained in power, the United States would be allowed to do with Cuba pretty much as they thought fit. Otherwise, if the ex-Queen or her son were restored, the Marshal hinted an intention of securing the island for himself. With a heart like lead, Lumus returned to Cespedes. The outlook was of the darkest, for the fate of the mother country as well as that of the newly-born island Republic hung in the balance.
General Sickles proceeded at once to Madrid, with full powers from the United States Government, to conclude the proposed sale of Cuba to the American Republic. The negotiations proved much more difficult than President Grant had believed possible, Prim placing a thousand obstacles in the way of the final conclusion of the bargain. Many believed that he had been won over to the pro-slavery party. After a wearisome and fruitless mission, Sickles was recalled. Later on an incident occurred—that of the Virginius—too lengthy to recapitulate here, which resulted in the capture by the Spaniards of that filibustering vessel, which was proceeding from the United States to assist the rebels with arms, ammunition, and men. The Virginius was taken to Havana, and sixty-one prisoners, including several Englishmen and twenty-two Americans, were ultimately shot. On November 5th, 1869, the leaders of the adventure, Navaro, Ryan, Jesus del Sol, and Pedro Cespedes—the President's brothers—were put to death by the Spaniards, and their heads carried in triumph through the streets. All this is far-off history nowadays,—interesting, nevertheless, if only as a record. The indignation excited throughout the United States by the Virginius business was indescribable, and very nearly ended in a declaration of war. Spain eventually thought it wise to make, through Señor Castelar, an abject apology, and granted an indemnity to the families of the unfortunate men who had been executed. The Virginius was formally handed back to the Americans, but the luckless vessel, which had been severely damaged, began to leak, and sank on her way home from Bahia de Honda to New York. This closed, and somewhat tamely, an incident which was within an ace of bringing about, some thirty years earlier, the events now taking place.
Whilst the negotiations for the release of the disabled Virginius were dragging their slow length along—they were conducted by the Spaniards with all the dilatoriness which distinguish them—that nation underwent a weird series of political changes and intrigues. The Republican party, although flattered by Prim, who wished in his heart to be the first President of the Iberian Republic, was evidently distasteful to the majority of Spaniards, accustomed to the pageantry of the solemnest and most stately of European Courts. It was therefore deemed necessary to establish an interregnum with Marshall Serano as Regent, and to cast about for some Catholic prince to place upon the vacant throne of the Bourbons. Choice fell upon Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern Sigmaringen—a most luckless selection, since, by offending the susceptibilities of France, it led to the Franco-Prussian war. King Victor Emmanuel's son, Amedeo, was now offered the crown of Spain, and accepted it, swearing to observe the Constitution over the body of Prim, who had been assassinated on December 28, 1870, by an unknown hand. How Amedeo failed to satisfy his new subjects, and finally was compelled to resign his ill-fitting crown and return-to Italy; how an abortive attempt to establish a Republic failed, and degenerated into anarchy; how Don Carlos and his followers caused useless shedding of blood in the Northern Provinces; and how, finally, Queen Isabella's son was restored in 1874, under the title of Alfonzo XII., are matters of history doubtless well-known to every reader of this book, and therefore only need to be recorded as reflecting upon Cuban affairs. When the Cespedes' Republic fell, the victorious Monarchy reappeared. But rebellion, overt and covert, still disturbed the distracted island until 1874, when the tragic death of Cespedes broke down the revolutionary spirit and brought about a temporary lull.
The adherents of Cespedes had by this time dwindled to a mere handful; and, driven desperate by hunger and despair, the forlorn but still bold-spirited band took refuge in a fastness on the Eastern coast, whence they hoped to escape to Jamaica. A slave betrayed their hiding-place to the Spaniards. A fierce hand-to-hand fight ensued. Cespedes fought like a lion against overwhelming odds. His friends fell dead or wounded at his feet; but still he battled on, slaying seven of his opponents with his own hand, and wounding many others. At last, seeing all hope was lost, he fought his way through the Spaniards, and, mortally wounded as he was, flung himself over the rocks, and thus escaped his hated captors. His mangled body was recovered, carried to Santiago, and there secretly buried. The dead man was mourned, and is mourned even to this day, by all true Cubans. The stage on which he played his part was, it may be said, a little one. His life and doings may be forgotten beyond the limits of the country he strove to serve. But such qualities of head and heart, such fervour of self-sacrifice and steadiness of purpose, as marked the career of Carlos Manuel Cespedes, must surely entitle him to an honoured place on the golden roll of the world's true heroes. May he rest in peace!
CHAPTER V.
THE HISTORY OF THE REBELLION UP-TO-DATE.
THE dying Cespedes bequeathed his honours to his friend and henchman, Don Salvador Cisneros y Bétancourt, Marquez de Santa Lucia, who was forthwith elected President of the Republic. He displayed exceptional ability, endeavoured to bring some discipline into the ranks of his more or less disorderly followers, and succeeded for a time, not only in this attempt, but also in reviving the dashed spirit of the rebels in the Eastern Province. At length he wearied of what ultimately proved a thankless task, and retired to make room for Don Francisco Aquelera, who became third President of this essentially rural Republic, whose Parliament was wont to assemble in the heart of a dense forest, or in some mountain solitude.
Aquelera, although a man of marked ability, was no longer in the prime of life, and soon grew tired of the roving existence circumstances compelled him to lead. After his retirement, a new name begins to figure prominently in Cuban affairs,—that of Maximo Gomez, who was elected Commander-in-Chief of the rebel forces, L'Ejercito libertador de la Republica de Cuba, some twenty years ago. With a comparatively small following, he managed, by sheer dint of audacity and profound strategical knowledge, to keep 20,000 Spaniards at bay. Gomez is a thorough soldier, one of the best the New World has possessed. I met him once, and was greatly struck by his martial bearing and his fiery black eyes, rendered still more conspicuous by his perfectly white hair, and long moustachios. He was born in 1837. Although afflicted with a terrible ulcer in his right leg, and unable to sit a horse except in a side saddle like a woman's, he is an intrepid rider, and knows not the meaning of the words fear or fatigue.
The other leader of the present rebellion is not less remarkable, Calixto Garcia Iñiguez, who began his career as a bank clerk, and who, therefore, combines with soldierly qualities of a high order, considerable financial and business knowledge.
The treaty of Zanjou, signed February 10th, 1878, put a stop, for some years, to anything like rebellion on a serious scale. A good deal of mystery surrounds this treaty, to which the President of the Republic and his secretary, only, affixed their signatures, without the formal consent of the other rebel generals, officers, and deputies. However, Marshal Martinez Campos, Commander-in-Chief of the Spanish army, approved it, although the enemies of the Cuban cause describe the document, somewhat sarcastically, as being more of a deed of capitulation than a treaty. The clauses proposing that the political organization of the island should be placed on the same footing as that of Puerto Rico, that a general amnesty for all political offences should be forthwith promulgated, that political prisoners should be pardoned, and that coolies and fugitive slaves who had served in the Cuban army should be emancipated, met with the approval of Señor Canovas de Castillo, and the treaty was officially signed and accepted at Madrid. For some time afterwards, peace nominally existed in almost every part of the island. The rebels were not, however, wholly inactive. Notwithstanding the accepted treaty, there was still a President of the Cuban Republic, Vicente Garcia, and a Parliament, which sat in the wilderness, at stated periods of the year. In 1879 this "Parliament" was dissolved, and with its dissolution the period of the "big rebellions" closes, and that of the little wars, la guerra chiquita, opens. Meanwhile, Maximo Gomez, seeing there was no immediate work for him to do, betook himself to San Domingo, to bide his time, and to place himself in active correspondence with the Gran Junta, or principal Cuban Revolutionary Association, in New York.
And here it may be as well to examine rather closely two matters connected with Cuban affairs. The first is the assistance afforded to the Cuban rebels by the United States, and the second, the conditions of the rebel army, as it stood three years since, when the insurrection began to assume alarming proportions.