Lopez had failed. Such was the obvious judgment of the world. Upon the
face of the matter, his expedition had ended in disaster and utter
tragedy. The first serious attempt to achieve the separation of Cuba
from Spain had come to naught. It had been completely suppressed and its
promoters had been destroyed.
In a broader, deeper and more significant sense, however, the enterprise
and sacrifice of Lopez and his comrades had splendidly succeeded. That
valiant pioneer of Cuban liberation had indeed "builded better than he
knew." For his enterprise marked an epoch in Cuban history; the most
important since Columbus's discovery of the island. The abortive
attempts at emancipation, which had been sporadically but feebly active
since the days of the emulators of Bolivar, had by Lopez's efforts been
marvelously and effectively resuscitated. The movement which had been
nurtured by the "Soles de Bolivar," but which its members had been
unable, because of smallness of numbers and lack of funds and of
leadership, to make much more than a cherished ideal--for the attempts
at revolt had been still-born, choked almost on their conception--had
under Lopez been imbued with lusty life, and was never again to
languish. A force had been set in operation which could not and did not
cease its action until, though many weary years afterward, the end which
Lopez had foreseen was attained, and Cuba was securely placed among the
independent nations of the world. We say that Lopez "builded better than
he knew." That was literally true because his plans were merely for the
transfer of Cuban sovereignty from oppressive and reactionary Spain to
liberal and progressive America; building upon the foundation thus
outlined by him, subsequent bolder spirits constructed the triumphant
edifice of complete independence of which he had not so much as dreamed.
The immediate results of the Lopez expedition were prodigious. It is not
easy, at this time and distance, to appreciate fully the tremendous
sensation which was caused, not only in Cuba and in Spain, but, to a
considerable extent, throughout the world, or at least, throughout that
most important portion of the world which had its frontage upon the
Atlantic Ocean, and which possessed more or less direct interests in the
countries of the Caribbean Sea. For a full appreciation of this, it is
necessary to take into consideration certain circumstances which are now
almost forgotten.
We must remember that down to this time the world at large had been
profoundly ignorant of Cuba, save in the most general and external
manner. Spain, as we have already indicated in these pages, had long
pursued a persistent policy of secrecy and isolation. Cuba was not
allowed to know much of the outside world, and the outside world was not
allowed to know much of Cuba. A strict censorship was maintained over
information both entering and leaving the island. Marked inhospitality
was shown to travelers and visitors to discourage them from penetrating
the island or acquainting themselves with the real condition of its
affairs. Practically Cuba remained, so far as its social, economic and
political conditions were concerned, a _terra incognita_. The world knew
almost nothing of its natural wealth and its inestimable resources, its
potentialities of greatness.
Now, in the baleful light of a great tragedy, the island was suddenly
thrust forward into the world's most intense publicity. From being a
minor colonial possession of a decadent power, it was transformed into
one of the foremost international issues. The eyes of two continents
were fixed upon it, while the hands of those continents involuntarily
reached for sword hilts in preparation for a decisive conflict which
might shake the foundations of the civilized world.
Let us consider first the interests and sentiments of Spain at this
great crisis in her affairs. Hitherto she had regarded Cuba as a
helpless province, politically negligible, although economically of
immense value as the "milch cow of the Peninsula." The several
insurrections which had occurred had indeed been annoying, and, at
times, costly, but they had been suppressed with little difficulty, and
there had never been a thought of their really menacing Spain's
sovereignty over the island. Nor had there been any fear of losing the
island through alien aggression or intervention. Spain's title to Cuba
had been repeatedly underwritten by the United States of America, at the
hands of John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay and John Forsyth; as we have
hitherto seen. For a full generation Spain had confidently depended upon
both the purpose and the power of the United States to protect her in
her ownership of Cuba. But now came a revolt which in itself was
immeasurably more formidable than all the slave insurrections put
together, and which was, most ominous of all, operated from the United
States, with the obvious sympathy, if not with the actual aid, of the
people of that country. This powerful protector of Spain in Cuba was
assuming the character of a possible conqueror. The troubles of Cuba
were, therefore, no longer merely local, nor even national; they had
risen to international proportions. They menaced not only the domestic
tranquillity of Spain, but also her international relations with that
power from which, of all in the world, she had cause most to fear.
No less marked was the effect of these events upon the Cubans. They were
made to feel that at last "the die was cast." An irrevocable step had
been taken. The dreamer had awakened; plans and conspiracies had been
transmuted into militant action. It is true that comparatively few of
the Cubans had been directly concerned or, at least, could be proved to
have been directly concerned in the undertakings of Lopez, but it was
quite certain that thereafter they would all be regarded as having
sympathized, and as being potential insurgents, with arms as well as
with ideas. Nothing thereafter could ever be as it had been before. The
Cuban people were vicariously committed to the policy of forcible
separation from Spain. War was begun and it would be war to the knife,
and the knife to the hilt.
In Cuba, the Spanish authorities realized this change in Cuban
sentiment, and kept a sharp outlook for any signs of uprising. They also
"made examples" of any and everyone who came under suspicion of having
been in sympathy with Lopez, or of having any plans for starting a
similar movement. Thus some boys, who were outspoken in their
expressions of sympathy with the cause of freedom from Spain, were
seized and summarily executed without trial. Feeling ran high; native
born Cubans refused to associate with those of Spanish birth, and in
many cases even to speak of them. A carnival was about to be celebrated
in Santiago de Cuba, but it was abandoned, and the city went into
mourning.
To retaliate some Spaniards sent out invitations for a ball at the
Filarmonia, the famous theatre in Santiago where, years afterward,
Adelina Patti made her debut. This was resented as an insult by the
native Cubans of the city. Some hot-blooded young men forced an entrance
into the hall where the ball was being held, and rushing forward
destroyed a picture of Queen Isabella which hung at one end of the room.
Immediately everything was in an uproar, men were shouting and fighting,
and women were fainting. In the melee the disturbers escaped, and the
matter was hushed up, for the Spanish authorities feared that the
trouble might be made the occasion of another uprising, and so made no
attempt to secure the names of the culprits.
But this was just the prelude for worse disaster. A wealthy Cuban woman,
with more money than judgment, decided to act as mediator and bring the
enraged parties together. She took a strange means for accomplishing her
object, issuing invitations for a party to both prominent Spaniards and
Cubans of the best families. When the ball took place it is difficult to
say who were the more dismayed and astonished, the Cubans when they saw
who had been invited to meet them, or the haughty Spanish grandees, who
hated the Cubans. An even wilder scene than that at the Filarmonia took
place. Women were thrown to the floor, their clothing torn, and their
bodies trampled on. The chandeliers were torn from the ceiling, many
windows were broken, men fought in hand to hand combat, and when it was
all over the injured had been removed, the hall which had been intended
for a scene of pleasure was wrecked and rent beyond description. Six
people were killed on this occasion, including one Spanish woman of high
rank, and over a hundred were more or less seriously injured. Arrests
were promptly made, but it was the Cubans who suffered, for no Spaniards
were apprehended. Several boys from the best Creole families were thrust
without trial into the dungeons of Morro Castle, from whence they were
transported to the Spanish penal institution at Ceuta, and never again
heard of. Those who were quick enough made their escape to the United
States, and the woman who was so foolish as to give the party hastily
left the island, without heralding her going.
The Cubans were thoroughly aroused against Spain, and more and more
there began to grow within them the desire not for annexation to the
United States but for complete independence, and a government of their
own making. At last the people were finding themselves, and higher
aspirations and new longings were stirring in their souls.
The Captain General, fearing new uprisings, began to get the island in
better shape for defense from aggression from within. He strengthened
the fortifications, and established a more central control over the army
and navy, so that from headquarters all army posts and the movement of
all vessels might be more easily governed. To further this end he built
new roads, and improved old ones, and he took into his own hands as
Captain-General a closer control and supervision of matters military.
Perhaps nothing could be more indicative of the Cuban feeling and of the
conditions on the Island at this time than are contained in the
following letter written by a prominent Cuban--a man of the highest
intelligence and from one of the best known families--to a friend:
"The cause of the liberty of nations has always perished in its cradle
because its defenders have never sought to deviate from legal
paths,--because they have followed the principles sanctioned by the laws
of nations, while despots, always the first to exact obedience to them
when it suited their convenience, have been the first to infringe them
when they came into collision with their interests.
"Their alliances to suppress liberty are called _holy_ and the crimes
they commit by invading foreign territories and summoning foreign troops
to their aid to oppress their own vessels, are sacred duties,
compliances with secret compacts; and, if the congresses, parliaments
and Cortes of other nations, raise the cry to Heaven, they answer, the
government has protested--acts have been performed without their
sanction--there is no remedy--they are acts accomplished.
"An act accomplished will shortly be the abolition of slavery in Cuba,
and the tardy intervention of the United States will only have taken
place when its brilliant constellation lights up the vast sepulchre
which will cover the bodies of her sons, sacrificed to the black race as
a regard for their sympathies with American institutions, and the vast
carnage it will cost to punish the African victors. What can be done
today, without great sacrifice, to help the Cubans, tomorrow cannot be
achieved without the effusion of rivers of blood, and when the few
surviving Cubans will curse an intervention which, deaf to their cries,
will only be produced by the cold calculations of egotism. Then the
struggle will not be with the Spaniards alone. The latter will now
accede to all the claims of the cabinet at Washington, by the advice of
the ambassadors of France and England, to advance, meanwhile, with surer
step to the end--to give time for the solution of the Eastern question,
and for France and England to send their squadrons into these waters.
Well may they deny the existence of secret treaties; this is very easy
for such beings, as it will be when the case of the present treaty comes
up, asserting that the treaty was posterior to their negative, or
refusing explanations as inconsistent with their dignity. But we witness
the realization of our fears, we see the Spanish government
imperturbably setting on foot plans which were thought to be the
delirium of excited imaginations doing at once what promised to be
gradual work; and hear it declared, by distinguished persons who
possessed the confidence of General Pezuela, that the existence of the
treaty is certain, and that the United States will be told that they
should have accepted the offer made to become a party to it, in which
case the other two powers could not have adopted the abolition scheme.
But supposing this treaty to have no existence, the fact of the
abolition of slavery is no less certain. It is only necessary to read
the proclamation of the Captain-General, if the last acts of the
Government be not sufficiently convincing. The result to the Island of
Cuba and the United States is the same, either way. If the latter do not
hasten to avert the blow, they will soon find it impossible to remedy
the evil. In the Island there is not a reflecting man--foreigner or
native, Creole or European--who does not tremble for the future that
awaits us, at a period certainly not far remote."
Thus did the Cubans look forward with hope to, and at the same time
fear, the future. And meanwhile the tragedy of Lopez was having a
wide-spread effect on the feeling of the people, and on political
conditions in other countries.
In the United States a profound impression was produced of a triple
character. There was, in the first place, the international point of
view. It was realized that the United States was being brought
uncomfortably near the possibility of a serious controversy, if not of
actual war with Spain. The neutrality laws had been evaded, and there
was every prospect that such evasions would thereafter be repeated. The
whole question of American relations with Cuba was acutely reopened, and
both those who favored and those who opposed the acquisition of that
island by the United States were made to realize that a momentous
decision might be called for at any moment.
There was, in the second place, the point of view of the pro-slavery
states of the South, and their leaders, who were generally in control of
the national government at Washington. The South strongly favored Cuban
annexation, either voluntary or forcible. The island was wanted as Texas
and other Mexican territories had been wanted, to provide for the
extension of slave territory and for the addition of new slave states to
the union to counter-balance the new free states which were about to
seek admission at the north. There was also a passionate desire to avoid
the calamity of having Cuba made, as the other Spanish-American
countries had been made, free soil, thus encircling the slave states
with an unbroken ring of anti-slavery territory. Moreover, at this time
the spirit of conquest and of expansion was very much abroad in the
land. The lust for territory which had prevailed in the Mexican War was
by no means satisfied. Men still regarded it as the manifest destiny of
the United States to "lick all creation." In the geography of the
popular mind, the United States was, or was destined to be, "bounded on
the north by the aurora borealis, on the south by the precession of the
equinoxes, on the east by primeval chaos, and on the west by the day of
judgment." Under such circumstances, the attitude of the people of the
United States south of Mason and Dixon's line was unmistakable.
There was also the point of view of the increasingly anti-slavery north.
During the Mexican war a strong aversion to territorial expansion by
conquest for the sake of slave soil had been manifested, and this
feeling was steadily increasing in extent and in influence. It
manifested itself by opposition to Cuban annexation. At the same time,
the commercial instinct was strong in the great cities of the north, and
there was an earnest desire to do nothing which might interfere with the
profitable trade which already existed between this country and Cuba,
and which it was hoped greatly to expand.
The interest of Great Britain in Cuban affairs was scarcely less than
that of Spain or the United States. That country had once, for a time,
possessed Cuba, and had never forgotten that fact nor ceased to
entertain the desire to renew that possession as a permanent state of
affairs. That country also had very important colonial holdings in the
West Indies, and on the adjacent mainland; being, indeed, an American
power second only to the United States itself. It owned the Bahamas,
Jamaica and other islands, and colonies on the South and Central
American coast, which latter it was at that very time seeking greatly to
extend. It was keenly desirous of enlarging its possessions and forming
a great colonial empire in tropical America, and it realized that
nothing could conduce to that end more than the acquisition of Cuba. In
the prosecution of this policy, a certain "jingo" faction actually went
so far as to pretend that upon the acquisition of Cuba depended Great
Britain's retention of Canada, if not, indeed, of her entire American
holdings. It was represented that if Great Britain did not intervene to
prevent it, the slave-holding South was certain to annex Cuba, and that
this would provoke the abolitionist North into seizing Canada, in order
to provide in that direction free soil to counter-balance the slave soil
of Cuba. Thus, with Canada gone, and Cuba in the hands of the United
States, the remainder of the British holdings in the western hemisphere
would be in deadly jeopardy. Such visions seem at this time fantastic,
and it may be that they were then thus regarded by serious statesmen;
yet they were cherished and were not without their influence.
Nor was France less deeply and directly interested in Cuba. She, too,
had colonies in the West Indies and on the South American coast. She had
never forgotten her former vast empire in North America, nor ceased to
regret its loss. She was soon to enter upon a campaign of conquest in
Mexico. She had at various times, both during and since the Napoleonic
era, entertained designs upon peninsular Spain itself, and she had
repeatedly made direct overtures for a protectorate over Cuba.
These circumstances caused international relations to be ominously
strained in more than one direction, and as soon as news reached the
United States of the execution of those companions of Lopez who were
members of prominent families in the southern states, there arose a
widespread and furious storm of wrath. The center of this was,
naturally, at New Orleans, where the majority of Lopez's followers had
been recruited and where their families resided, and in that city an
infuriated mob stormed and destroyed the Spanish consulate, publicly
defaced a portrait of the Spanish queen, and, in some respects worst of
all, looted a number of shops owned by Spanish merchants. This was most
unfortunate from more than one point of view. It was not only
indefensible and inexcusable in itself, but it put the United States so
much in the wrong as to deter it from taking any action, or indeed
making any protest to Spain on account of the putting to death of the
American prisoners.
The American Secretary of State, Daniel Webster, made, however, the best
of an unfortunate situation. He took a straightforward course by
immediately apologizing to the Spanish government for the New Orleans
outrages, and recommended to Congress the voting of an adequate
indemnity for the damage which had been done. Having done this, he was
enabled to secure the release of some American members of Lopez's
expedition who had not yet suffered the death penalty.
Despite this settlement, the Spanish government continued to cherish
much resentment against the United States, partly for the participation
of so many of that country's citizens in the expeditions of Lopez, and
partly because of the outrages in New Orleans, and its Cuban
administration thereafter exhibited an increasing degree of animosity
against Americans. Numerous harsh impositions were put upon American
citizens, for which no redress could be had; and this caused resentment
throughout the United States, in the commercial North as well as in the
slaveholding and expansionist South, and relations between the two
countries steadily drifted from bad to worse.
Candor compels the frank statement that there was much fault on both
sides. Spain was tremendously at fault because of her misgovernment of
Cuba, and indeed her whole policy in relation to that island, which was
quite unworthy of a civilized power in an enlightened age. A generation
before Spain had practically sacrificed her right to continued
possession of Florida by her maladministration of that territory, which
had made it an intolerable nuisance to the neighboring United States.
She was now making of Cuba a scarcely less international nuisance and
scandal.
On the other hand, the United States, or some of its people, undoubtedly
gave Spain cause for grievance. The intentions and the conduct of the
United States government were beyond reproach. At the same time, they
were entirely insufficient for the prevention of serious wrongs to
Spain. Webster himself confessed that the United States government had
no power to protect Spanish subjects from such outrages as those which
had just been committed in New Orleans. There was no doubt that the
intentions and conduct of a large portion of the American people were
not only hostile to Spain, but were quite lawless in the manifestation
of that feeling. Among the offenders, moreover, were some men who stood
high in official life and who exerted much political influence. Nor
could these things be so well understood in Spain as in the United
States. Spain could scarcely be expected to distinguish between the case
of a man in his private capacity as a citizen and in his public capacity
as a member of Congress or other official of the government. When she
saw public officials participating in the organization and operations of
the "Order of the Lone Star," the confessed purpose of which was to take
Cuba from Spain by force, and without compensation, she very naturally
assumed that such things were being done with the permission and
sanction of the United States government, if not at its direct
instigation.
At this point, moreover, a serious complication was injected into the
problem of Spanish-American relations by the attempted intervention of
Great Britain and France. Both these powers sought to persuade Spain
that they were better friends to her, especially in relation to Cuba,
than the United States. They impressed upon her the idea that the United
States intended to take Cuba away from her, while they were willing to
respect her title to it, and to protect her in possession of it.
These suggestions were followed by the menace of overt acts which, if
committed, would have had very serious results. In 1851, the British and
French governments let it be known that instructions had been given to
their naval commanders to increase their forces in the waters adjacent
to Cuba, and to exercise guardianship over the shores of that island to
prevent the landing of any more filibustering expeditions from the
United States or elsewhere, such as those of Lopez. It does not appear
that this was done at the request of Spain. It was probably an entirely
gratuitous performance intended partly to ingratiate the Spanish
government, and partly to prevent the possibility of the seizure by the
United States of Cuba. But it was certainly a most unwarrantable
meddling in affairs which concerned only the United States and Spain. No
possible justification for it could be found in international law. In
the absence of a state of war, it was intolerable that vessels under the
United States flag should be subjected to search upon the high seas,
while, when they reached Cuban territorial waters, no other power than
Spain had any right to interfere with them.
Daniel Webster was at that time ill and unable to perform the duties of
his office, but J. J. Crittenden, who was acting as Secretary of State,
made a forcible protest against any such action by Great Britain and
France, and gave warning in the plainest terms that it would not be
tolerated by the United States, and that any interference with American
shipping between the United States and Cuba would be resented in the
most vigorous manner. The result was that the British and French navies
refrained from the contemplated meddling.
Following this, however, Spain made a direct appeal to the British
government for protection against American aggression. The request was
not so much for immediate military intervention as for securing treaty
guarantees. The British government was in a receptive mood, and, in
consequence, in April, 1852, it proposed to the United States that that
country should join it and France in a tripartite convention,
guaranteeing to Spain continued and unmolested possession of Cuba, and
explicitly renouncing any designs of their own for the acquisition of
that island. It may be recalled that a similar proposal had been made by
Great Britain and France in 1825, and that its acceptance had been
favored by no less an American statesman than Thomas Jefferson,
although, under the wiser counsels of John Quincy Adams, it had been
rejected.
At this renewal of the proposal, in 1852, rejection was prompt and
emphatic. Edward Everett was then the Secretary of State, under the
Presidency of Millard Fillmore, and he refused positively to enter into
any such compact. His ground was that American interests in Cuba and
American relations toward that island were radically different, in kind
as well as in degree, from those of any other power. That was of course
a perfectly logical and sincere application of the principles of the
Monroe Doctrine, and of the traditional policy of the United States in
refusing to permit European intervention in the affairs of the United
States or in affairs exclusively concerning the United States and a
single European power.
It may be assumed that Everett had in mind at the time, also, the
exceedingly unsatisfactory results of an attempt to establish just such
a tripartite protectorate guarantee over the Hawaiian Islands.
There was still another reason for the refusal of the United States to
enter into such a compact. That country had already and repeatedly
guaranteed the Spanish possession of Cuba as against the aggressions of
any other power, but it had not guaranteed and would not guarantee her
possession of Cuba against the self-assertion of the Cuban people. It
recognized the right of revolution. It knew that the Cubans were
dissatisfied, and that with good reason, with Spanish rule, and that
sooner or later they would successfully revolt and establish their
independence, and it had no thought of making itself the accomplice of
Spain in repressing their aspirations for liberty.