THE ARMY AND NAVY
It is not necessary to say to anyone who has the smallest acquaintance
with history that Spaniards are naturally brave and patriotic. The early
history of the Peninsula is one of valour in battle, whether by land or
sea. The standard of Castile has been borne by her sons triumphantly
over the surface of the globe. Few of us now remember that Johnson wrote
of the Spain of his day:
Has Heaven reserved, in pity to the poor,
No pathless waste, no undiscovered shore,
No secret island on the trackless main,
No peaceful desert, yet unclaimed by Spain?
In the old days when Drake undertook to "singe the King of Spain's
beard," and carried out his threat, our sailors and those of Philip II.,
some time "King of England," as the Spaniards still insist on calling
him, met often in mortal combat, and learned to recognise and honour in
each other the same dogged fighting-power, the same discipline and quiet
courage. The picture of the Spaniards standing bareheaded in token of
reverence and admiration of a worthy foe, as some small English ships
went down with all their crew rather than surrender, in those old days
of strife, touches a chord which still vibrates in memory of battles
fought and won together by Englishmen and Spaniards under the Iron Duke.
True, some battered and torn English flags hang as trophies in the
armoury of Madrid, but one likes to remember that in the only battle
where our colours were lost, the Spanish troops were commanded by an
Englishman, James Stuart, Duke of Berwick, the direct ancestor of the
present Duque de Berwick y Alva, and the English by one of French birth.
In every case where foreign foes have invaded Spain, sooner or later
they have been driven out. _Santiago! y Cierra España!_ was the war-cry
which roused every child of Spain to close his beloved country to alien
domination.
Unfortunately, the yoke of the foreigner came in more invidious guise.
From the death of Ferdinand and Isabella to the year 1800, the sons of
Spain were immolated to serve causes which were of no account to her, to
protect the interests of sovereigns who had nothing in common with her
provinces, to add to the power of the Austrian Hapsburgs and the French
Bourbons. We have seen how the people whom Napoleon had believed to be
sunk in fanaticism, dead to all national aspiration, the mere slaves of
a despicable King, and the sport of his debauched Queen and her lover,
sprang to arms and drove the invader from their land. So would it be
to-day if the country were even threatened by foreign invasion. "The
dogs of Spain," as Granville called them, know well how to protect their
soil.
Within comparatively recent years the campaign in Morocco, and the
expeditionary force sent to Cochin-China, showed that the Spanish army
was not to be despised. It has been the misfortune of Spain that her
soldiers have too often had the melancholy task of fighting against
their own people, or those of their colonies, both of whom have been
excited and aided in insurrection for years by foreign contributions of
arms and money. In these unhappy fratricidal struggles the fighting has
never been more than half-hearted, and during the numerous military
_pronunciamientos_ it has often been necessary to keep the troops from
meeting, as they could never be trusted not to fraternise; and after the
first abortive attempt by Prim to effect the revolution which later
freed the country, the curious spectacle was afforded of Prim and his
soldiers marching quietly out of one end of a village, while the troops
of the Queen, sent in pursuit, were being purposely kept back from
marching too quickly in at the other.
The army of Spain would seem to suffer from a plethora of officers,
especially those of the highest rank. In the time of Alfonso XII., there
were ten marshals, fifty-five generals, sixty-six _mariscales de
campo_, and one hundred and ninety-seven brigadiers; adding those on the
retired list liable for service, there were in all five hundred and
twenty generals, four hundred and seventy-two colonels, eight hundred
and ninety-four lieutenant-colonels, 2113 commandants, 5041 captains,
5880 lieutenants, and 4833 sous-lieutenants. With such an array of
officers, it is scarcely to be wondered at that promotion in the
ordinary way was looked on as impossible, and the juggle of military
_pronunciamientos_ was regarded as almost the only means of rising in
the army. It was no uncommon thing to promise a rise of one grade
throughout a whole corps to compass one of these miniature revolutions.
However, all that is happily past. General Weyler,--whose name indicates
alien blood at some period of his family history,--the present Minister
of War, has taken the thorough reform of the army in hand, though it is
too soon to say if he will be as successful as is generally expected
from his known energy and common sense, since the work is only now in
progress.
One of the most fertile sources of disturbance in the old days of Isabel
II. was the presence of the _primo sargentos_. These petty officers,
having risen from the ranks, and invested with an authority for which
they were often quite unsuited, were always ready, for a consideration,
to aid the cause of some aspiring politician, now on one side, now on
another. They are now, fortunately, abolished.
The Spanish artillery is a splendid body, and is officered from the
best families in the country. In the only military insurrection in which
the common soldiers shot some of the officers obnoxious to them--that of
the Montaño Barracks, in 1866--the leader of the mutinists was a certain
_hidalgo_. It was the promotion of this man that led indirectly to the
abdication of Don Amadeo, who opposed the action. Indignant at the
disgrace to the service, all of the artillery officers in Spain sent in
their resignations. They were accepted, and the _primo sargentos_ raised
to the rank of officers to fill their places. The result was unlimited
mutiny among the rank and file and danger to the State. Some of the
young officers who had retained their uniforms, though no longer
attached to the corps, finding the troops in utter disorder and revolt,
quietly donned their uniforms, went down to the barracks, and gave their
orders. The men instantly fell into the ranks, and the situation was
saved. The _primo sargentos_ were abolished, the officers reinstated.
But Amadeo had had enough; he ceased to attempt to reign
constitutionally in a country where the constitution meant only one more
form of personal greed and excess. He was _demasiado honesto_ for the
crew he had been called to command, and he left the country to tumble
about in its so-called "republican" anarchy until another military
_pronunciamiento_ set Alfonso XII. on the throne. And that has been,
fortunately, the last performance of a kind once so common in Spain.
All military men admire the effective corps of light mountain artillery.
The small guns are carried on the backs of the splendid mules for which
the Spanish army is famous, and can be taken up any mountain path which
these singular animals can climb. Mules are also used to drag the
heavier guns, and must be invaluable in a mountainous country. The
animals are quite as large as ordinary horses, are lithe, active, and
literally unhurtable. I have myself seen a mule, harnessed to a cart
which was discharging stones over the edge of a deep pit, when levelling
the ground at the end of the Fuente Castellana in Madrid, over-balanced
by the weight behind him, fall over, turn a somersault in mid-air, cart
and all, and, alighting thirty feet below, shake himself, ponder for a
few seconds on the unexpected event in his day's labour, and then
proceed to draw the cart, by this time satisfactorily emptied, out of
the pit by the sloping track at the farther side, and continue his task
absolutely unhurt and undisturbed.
Until the final overthrow of the Carlists by Alfonso XII., the Basque
Provinces, amongst their most cherished _fueros_, were exempted from the
hated conscription; but the victorious King made short work of that and
of all other special rights and privileges--which, in truth, had been
abused--and now all the country is subject to conscription. Every man
from nineteen to twenty years of age is liable to serve in the ranks,
except those who are studying as officers. A payment of £60 frees them
from service during peace; but if the country is at war there is no
exemption. The conscripts are bound for twelve years--three with the
colours, three in the first reserve, three in the second, and three in
the third.
Navy? Alas! Spain has none. Two battle-ships alone remain--_El Pelayo_
and _Carlos V._ (the former about nine thousand five hundred tons, the
latter not more than seven thousand)--and some destroyers and torpedoes.
How a nation that once ruled the sea, and whose sailors traversed and
conquered the New World, has allowed her navy to become practically
extinct at the moment when nations which have almost no seaboard are
trying to bring theirs up within measurable distance of England's, it is
impossible to say. Even before the outbreak of the war with America
there were but a few battle-ships, and these were wanting in guns and in
almost all that could make them effective--save and except the men, who
behaved like heroes. It seems to be a consolation to Spaniards to
remember that it was in the pages of an English journal that an
Englishman, who had seen the whole of the disastrous war, wrote: "If
Spain were served by her statesmen as she has been served by her navy,
she would be one of the greatest nations of the world to-day."
The history of the part borne by the Spanish navy in the late war with
America, as written by one of Admiral Cervera's captains,[1] with the
publication of the actual telegrams which passed between the Government
and the fleet, and the military commanders in the colonies, is one of
the most heartrending examples of the sacrifice, not only of brave men,
but of a country's honour to political intrigue or the desire to retain
office. This, at least, is the opinion of the writer of this painful
history, and his statements are fully borne out by the original
telegrams, since published. It is impossible to imagine that any
definite policy at all was followed by the advisers of the Queen Regent
in this matter, unless it were the incredible one ascribed to it by
Captain Concas Palan of deliberately allowing the fleet, such as it was,
to be destroyed--in fact, in the case of Admiral Cervera's squadron,
sending it out to certain and foreseen annihilation--so as to make the
disaster an excuse for suing for peace, without raising such a storm at
home as might have upset the Ministry. With both fleets sunk, and those
of their men not slain, prisoners of war, there was no alternative
policy but peace. Captain Concas Palan claims for his chief and the
comrades who fell in this futile and disastrous affair "a right to the
legitimate defence which our country expects from us, though it is
against the interested silence which those who were the cause of our
misfortunes would fain impose on us," and says that "some day, and that
probably much sooner than seems probable at present," the judgment of
Spain on this episode will be that of the English _Review_, which he
quotes as the heading of his chapter. He goes on: "War was accepted by
Spain when the island of Cuba was already lost to her, and when the
dispatch of a single soldier more from the Peninsula was infinitely more
likely to have caused an insurrection than that of which our Ministers
were afraid--at the moment, also, when our troops were in want of the
merest necessaries, the arrears of pay being the chief cause of their
debilitated condition, and when a great part of the Spanish residents in
Cuba, under the name of 'Reformers,' 'Autonomists,' etc., had made
common cause with the insurgents, while they were enriching themselves
to a fabulous extent by contracts for supplies and transports. In these
circumstances it was folly to accept a struggle with an immensely rich
country, possessing a population four times that of ours, and but a
pistol shot from the seat of action." The Government of Spain was
perfectly aware that the troops in Cuba were already quite insufficient
even to cope with the insurgents, that the people at home were already
murmuring bitterly at the cost of the war, and that it was impossible to
send out a contingent of any practical value. Sickness of all kinds,
enteric, anæmia, and all the evils of under-fed and badly found troops,
were rapidly consuming the forces in Cuba, "and yet the Government took
no thought of who was to man the guns whose gunners were drifting daily
into the hospital and the cemetery.... The national debt was increasing
in a fabulous manner, and recourse was had to the mediæval remedy of
debasing the currency, while even at that moment the troops had more
than a year's pay in arrear, and absolute penury was augmenting their
other sufferings."
[1] _La Escuadra del Almirante Cervera_, por Victor M.
Concas Palan.
This was the moment which the responsible Ministers of the Crown thought
propitious to throw down the gauntlet to the overwhelming power of
America rather than to face what the writer terms the "cabbage-headed
riff-raff of the Plaza de la Cevada" of Madrid. Again and again was the
absolute inefficiency of the fleet pointed out to them. Even the few
ships there were, all of them vastly inferior to those of the United
States' navy, were without their proper armament; they might have been
of some service in defence of the coast of Spain, but in aggressive
warfare they were useless. Allowing somewhat for the natural indignation
of one of those who was sacrificed, who saw his beloved commander and
his comrades-in-arms sent like sheep to the slaughter, and all for an
idea,--and that a perfectly stupid and useless one,--there is no
gainsaying the facts which Captain Concas Palan relates, and the
original telegrams verify every word of his story. Admiral Cervera was
sent out with sealed orders; but he had done all that was in his
power--even asking to be relieved of his command--to prevent the folly
of sending away from the coasts of the mother country the only ships
which could have protected her, while they were absolutely useless
against the American navy in the Antilles. Left with no alternative but
obedience, he managed to gain the safe harbour of Santiago de Cuba with
his squadron intact. Secure from attack, he landed his men to assist in
the defence of the town from the land side. And then came the incredible
orders that he was to take out his four ships to be destroyed by the
American navy waiting outside! Never in the world's history was a more
magnificent piece of heroism displayed than in the obedience to
discipline which caused Admiral Cervera to re-embark his marines and
lead them forth to certain death, well knowing what they were to face,
for he hid nothing from them. He called on them as sons of Spain, and
they answered heroically, as Spaniards have ever done in history: "For
honour!"
Spain has suffered deeply and sorely in her pride; but she has never
worn her heart on her sleeve--she suffers in silence. A quotation from
the _Época_ of July 5th, two days after the destruction of Cervera's
fleet, shows the spirit in which the country bore that terrible blow. It
is headed "Hours of Agony." "Our grief to-day has nothing in it which
was unexpected. The laws of logic are invincible; our four ships could
not by any possibility have escaped the formidable American squadron.
The one thing that Spain expected of her sons was that they should
perish heroically. They have perished! They have faced their destiny;
they have realised the sole end which Spain looked for, in this
desperate conflict into which she has been drawn by God knows what blind
fatality; they have fallen with honour."
That is true; but how about the leaders whose long misrule of the
colonies had helped to bring on the disaster which their predecessors
for many years had courted? How about the political corruption which,
when large sums were being spent on the colonies, had allowed immense
private fortunes to be made while Manila was left without defences, and
the absolutely unassailable bay of Santiago de Cuba had on the fort
which commanded its entrance only useless old guns of a past century,
more likely to cause the death of those who attempted to serve them than
to injure an enemy? How about the Government that deliberately entered
on a war of which the end was perfectly foreseen, and, while seated
safely in office at home, thought the "honour of Spain" sufficiently
vindicated by offering up its navy, already made useless by neglect and
niggardliness, as a sacrifice? Captain Concas Palan points out that even
after it was fully recognised that the retention of Cuba was impossible,
the worst catastrophes might have been avoided. "In place of treating
for peace while the squadron was intact at Santiago, which, as well as
Manila, could have been defended for some time, the Ministers waited to
sue for peace until everything was lost, while it was perfectly well
known beforehand that that result was inevitable." During the whole
time, _mañana veremos_ was the rule of action--a to-morrow that never
was to dawn for those whose lives it was intended to sacrifice. Heaven
works no miracles for those who fling themselves against the impossible!
So long ago as 1823, Thomas Jefferson wrote to President Monroe: "The
addition of the island of Cuba to our Confederacy is exactly what is
wanted to round our power as a nation to the point of its utmost
interest." John Quincy Adams went so far as to state that "Cuba
gravitates to the United States as the apple yet hanging on its native
trunk gravitates to the earth which sustains it"--a statement which has
the more force when it is remembered that for over fifty years the Cuban
insurgents had been liberally supplied with arms, ammunition, stores,
and troops from the United States whenever they required them! And this,
not because Cuba was mismanaged by Spain, but because America coveted
her as "the most interesting addition that could be made to our system
of States," to quote Jefferson once more.
Nevertheless, the heroic sons of Spain were offered up as an expiation
for the sins of her political jugglers for generations past. With the
knowledge that America had at least for seventy years been seeking an
excuse for "rounding her power as a nation" by the seizure of Cuba, no
real effort was made to redress the grievances of her native population,
nor to efficiently defend her coasts.
The state of affairs in Manila was still worse. The culpable neglect of
the Government had resulted in the so-called squadron not being
possessed of one single ship of modern construction or armament; and
when the unfortunate marines and their heroic commanders had been
immolated by the overwhelming superiority in numbers and efficiency of
the Americans, the noisy injustice and anger of a senseless crowd at
home were allowed to compass the lasting disgrace of casting the blame
for the foreseen disasters on Admiral Montojo, who was thrown as a
victim to the jackals.
To-day, we find Spain absolutely without a navy. Two second- or
third-class ships--and they not even properly found or armed--are all
she possesses. Men she has, however, with the traditions of a great
past, while the officers of her navy are thoroughly alive to the class
of ships and the armament which are needed to give their country the
protection, and their foreign policy the dignity, which other countries
of far less importance are able to sustain. No wonder that her writers
are pointing out that instead of being satisfied with immense
long-winded despatches and notes, couched in grandiloquent language,
which Spanish Foreign Ministers seem to think amply sufficient, strong
nations have a habit of sending an iron-clad, or two or three cruisers
to back up their demands, and that no other European country but Spain
thinks it safe or wise to leave her coasts and her commerce entirely
without protection in case of a European war breaking out. Will the
nation itself take the matter in hand, and in this, as in so many other
matters, advance in spite of its Government? If it waits for the
political seesaw by which both parties avoid responsibility, there will
be small chance of a navy. The same ministry is in power to-day which
landed the country in the Spanish-American War, and it would seem as if
the nation considers it the best it can produce. _Mañana veremos?_