Cuba Past and Present

by Richard Davey

Through these wild forsaken regions there are neither roads nor paths, and the enemy has concealed the trace of his footsteps with the utmost precaution. Every bush may mask an ambuscade, and behind every rock some danger lurks. Sometimes the Spaniards—to whom experience has taught many things—may mark the exact position of the rebels by the whirl of the vultures, circling high above it, watching the time when, after the camp has broken up, they may make a descent upon the scanty fragments of victuals left behind, or upon the dead bodies of those who have perished of wounds, of starvation, perchance, or of some malignant fever. Overhead is a brazen black-blue sky, through which the sun darts red-hot rays, or else a black stretch of dense clouds, belching cataracts of water from week's end to week's end, and frequently torn by the most terrific storms of thunder and lightning. The marvel of it is that so many men, and even women, are able to live at all, under such dreadful conditions, more often than not lacking the veriest necessaries of life, and depending for their daily food on their knowledge of the qualities, poisonous or harmless, of the various fruits, berries, and herbs they find about their path. I wonder if it ever occurs to people who talk so glibly of Cuban affairs, over their well-spread tables, that at this very moment there are considerably over a hundred thousand human beings encamped, under these appalling conditions, in various districts of Cuba, not to mention the miserable reconcentrados, or men out of employment, whom the towns-people reject, whom the rebel army is not allowed to absorb into its ranks, and who, between the two camps, have been systematically starved to death, especially under the merciless and cruel rule of General Weyler.

In the dry season matters are a trifle better, the fevers diminish, and it is possible to sleep in the open air without serious risk. The insects, too, are a trifle less vicious, and the brilliant moonlit winter's nights are often pleasant enough. Then the bivouac becomes endurable, and if the enemy is sufficiently distant, a certain element of gaiety lends a picturesque, even romantic, character to the barbaric gathering. The negroes twang their banjos, blow their horns, and dance in rings, and the white adventurers gather round the camp fires, to tell old-world stories, or dream, perchance, of their childhood, spent under more temperate skies,—and in their heart of hearts, as their recollection slips back to home, to regret they ever embarked on such pitiful adventures as these. Suddenly the alert is called, the trumpet blows, an order is hoarsely shouted, and the motley crowd moves on elsewhere, or is commanded to make a descent on some plantation to demand provisions, and, may be, if the owner does not comply, to fire his sugar canes. Not unfrequently, to screen their flight, they set light to the prairie or to the forest, and the grass and the trees burn on for days and nights on end. Some of these bands have a chaplain with them—a priest of the sort called in England, before the Reformation, a "hedge-priest"—who, on Sundays and feast days, celebrates Mass at an improvised altar, in some forest glade. But, on the other hand, the negroes, of whom there are thousands, seem, as a result of the free life they lead, to have reverted, in most cases, by a species of atavism, to their old savage habits.

I have said elsewhere that in the olden days their Cuban masters only gave them a veneer of Christianity; they soon relapse into the obscene and bloody creed of Voudism, the traditions of which they have never lost. And in almost every rebel camp there are a number of coolies who, although—to please the Cubans—they prostrate themselves before the images of Neustra Señora de Cobre, and of Our Lady of Guadalupe, secretly practise the lowest forms of Buddhism.

It is now time to turn our attention to an extremely interesting personage, who, in his day, has given the mother country more trouble, probably, than any other of the numerous leaders of the rebellion—the famous Maceo. He was a true son of the revolution, born at Santiago di Cuba in that great year of universal revolt, 1848. He was not, as has been so frequently stated in English newspapers, a gentleman of noble family. As a matter of fact, he began life as a muleteer. Hence his wonderful knowledge of the Cuban ravines and passes, which has been so precious both to his followers and to himself. He never made any pretence of being a "Caballero," but gave himself out for what he was, a blunt man of the people (egregiously vain, let me add, and astonishingly ignorant!). Four years ago the following description of Maceo was written me from Cuba by a friend who knew him well. "This wonderful man, though short of stature, looks the very incarnation of a Spadassin of the good old times of Calderon and Lope, and this notwithstanding his strong evidences of negro blood. True, his features are none too regular, but his complexion is, to say the best of it, swarthy. His eyes are splendid, and he has formidable moustachios, which would have roused the envy of a musketeer. He is scrupulously neat in his dress, and wears his much belaced gold uniform with a gallant air. His broad-brimmed white felt hat sets off his face to advantage. On the whole, he at first impressed me very favourably. Suddenly, however, something annoyed him, and he turned round on one of his men, and burst into a storm of oaths. Then he showed his white teeth, shook with nervous fury, and looked very fierce." For a good many years, Maceo was the hero of the day. Even in the towns, where interest in the rising is apt to flag, people liked to talk of his adventures. He bore the marks of twenty-five wounds,—twenty caused by bullets, and five by sword thrusts. He possessed a quality of ubiquity which at times seemed almost miraculous. When the Spaniards were perfectly certain that Maceo and his men were in the west, they were tolerably certain to turn up in the east. A dozen times, at least, he was reported killed, but sooner or later he always reappeared, and in a condition altogether too lively for Spanish taste. Some persons even now believe he was not shot, as reported, on December 9th, 1895. But there can be but little doubt his adventurous career is ended, otherwise he would have certainly reappeared ere this, especially as he is sorely needed, no one having as yet risen up to take his place. General Gomez and Maceo have been by far the most interesting figures in the Cuban rebellion. In the time to come he will, I feel sure, be the hero of a score of novels, as startling and sensational as any of those of Mayne Reid or Fenimore Cooper.

Far be it from me to disparage the motives of the men who have conducted this revolt against a distinctly vicious and obsolete government. The saddest fact connected with the present struggle is that Spain's punishment has come upon her at a time when she least deserves it, for during the last ten years, though all too late, a great deal has been done for the island by the mother country. In the first place, it is not true that Cubans are not admitted to any official position in the administration of their country. At this present time at least one-half of the Government employés, high and low, are Cubans. There are some scores of Cuban officers in the Spanish army. Cuba is represented at the Cortes by thirteen Senators, and thirty Deputies. The University of Havana is almost entirely in the hands of Cubans; the Rector, Don Joaquim F. Lastres, and the Vice-Rector, are both of them natives of the island. All the Deans are Cubans, and out of eighty Professors, sixty are Spaniards born in the island, ergo Cubans. All the Advocates of the Supreme Court are Cubans, many belonging to families which have resided for generations in the island. Still there is widespread and well-founded discontent. The island is not properly administered. Everything is in a state of confusion. Red-tapeism—the curse of Spanish bureaucracy—is rampant, and the system of petty backsheesh is almost as universal as in Turkey.

There is much truth, too, in Mr Gossip's statement in his article in the May number of the Fortnightly Review, entitled "The Mournful Case of Cuba," which runs as follows:—

"Spain has placed an almost insuperable barrier in the way of American merchants, should they attempt to enter her ports with American products, in the form of a protective tariff, which resembles in many respects, the policy once pursued by England against her American colonies, of which the 'Boston tea party' was the direct result, has proved very detrimental to American interests. For while the United States purchases, at least, more than seventy per cent. of everything Cuba has to sell, Cuba in return buys from the United States less than twenty per cent. of the articles she imports—chiefly flour, petroleum, and other non-competitive articles, which Spain is unable to furnish; so that it is to the land of the Stars and Stripes that Cuba must look, since, as long as beets are grown in Europe, the product of the sugar cane will find no market on the European side of the Atlantic. Thus, the mother country pockets annually, through her antiquated institutions, the Yankee millions, which, under proper conditions of trade, would be returned to the people of the United States in payment for American coal, iron, and manufactured goods, which are often sent to Spain and then re-shipped to Cuba, as the only practical method of getting into the latter country. Owing to the backwardness of Spanish industries, and the inability of Spain to supply Cuba with the products she requires, the Cubans have to consume Spanish articles of inferior quality, or pay exorbitant prices for foreign goods, owing to the prohibitive duties imposed, which merely place large sums in the Spanish exchequer. Spanish merchants practise a novel fraud by nationalising foreign products for importation into Cuba, and thus the senseless commercial policy of Spain is the cause of inextinguishable discontent.

"It is true, also, that Cuba is within the economic orbit of the United States, and that the commerce of the island is a strong factor in the Cuban problem, inasmuch as it is the active agent of civilization everywhere; and sugar is omnipotent from the purely commercial American point of view. There are certain fixed economic laws, which are as sure in their operation as gravitation, and must inevitably affect the ultimate destiny of Cuba."

I do not think sufficient attention has been paid by students of the Cuban question to facts wholly unconnected with bad government and of a purely economic nature. First and foremost of these is the depreciation in the commercial value of local produce, especially the loss on sugar, which is mainly due to the popularity and cheapness of beetroot sugar on the continent of Europe. Without undue entering into details, I would point out that Cuba is in this respect going through precisely the same financial and commercial crisis as the other and better-governed West Indian Islands. The tobacco trade, I hear, is less flourishing than it used to be. It has to contend with the prodigious development which has recently taken place in the tobacco markets of Asia Minor, Egypt, Europe, and the United States. In a word, Cuba has been doing very badly now for over twenty years, and families which were not very long ago amongst the richest of our period, are now paupers, eager to sell their few remaining jewels, bric-à-brac, and even their fans, lace, and brocades, to the passing stranger. To add to the general distress came the completion of the abolition of slavery, with its usual result—the negroes refused to work. Coolies were imported, but the climate did not suit them. White labour has not been tried, for the simple reason that it is a foredoomed failure. Masters who have had to deal with negroes all their lives are never able to manage poor whites. Hundreds of plantations have gone out of cultivation, and thousands of half savage, coloured folk, have gone to swell in the all-pervading anarchy which the Spanish Government is not strong enough to suppress.

Meanwhile the rebellion has absorbed an incredible amount of Spanish capital, and drained the mother country of hundreds of thousands of young men, the great majority of whom will never see their homes again. Cuba, in her present condition, is Spain's ruin, and it would have been well for the Spaniards if they had sold the island half a century ago.