of the island. It seems to me that, allowing for the heat of noon and
the debilitating effect of the climate, the industry in agriculture and
trade is rather striking. The sugar crop is enormous. The annual
exportation is about 400,000 tons, or about 2,000,000 boxes, and the
amount consumed on the island is very great, not only in coffee and in
daily cooking, but in the making of preserves and sweetmeats, which are
a considerable part of the food of the people. There is also about half
a million hogsheads of molasses exported annually. Add to this the
coffee, tobacco and copper, and a general notion may be got of the
industry and productions of the island. Its weak point is the want of
variety. There are no manufactures of any consequence; the mineral
exports are not great; and, in fact, sugar is the one staple. All Cuba
has but one neck--the worst wish of the tyrant.
As to education, I have no doubt that a good education in medicine, and
a respectable course of instruction in the Roman and Spanish law, and
in the natural sciences, can be obtained at the University of Havana;
and that a fair collegiate education, after the manner of the Latin
races, can be obtained at the Jesuit College, the Seminario, and other
institutions at Havana, and in the other large cities; and the Sisters
of the Sacred Heart have a flourishing school for girls at Havana. But
the general elementary education of the people is in a very low state.
The scattered life of planters is unfavorable to public day-schools,
nay, almost inconsistent with their existence. The richer inhabitants
send their children abroad, or to Havana; but the middle and lower
classes of whites cannot do this. The tables show that, of the free
white children, not more than one in sixty-three attend any school,
while in the British West India islands, the proportion is from one in
ten to one in twenty. As to the state of education, culture and literary
habits among the upper classes, my limited experience gives me no
opportunity to judge. The concurrent testimony of tourists and other
writers on Cuba is that the habits of the Cuban women of the upper and
middle classes are unintellectual.
Education is substantially in the hands of the government. As an
instance of their strictness, no man can take a degree at the University
unless he makes oath that he does not belong to, has never belonged to,
and will not belong to, any society not known to and permitted by the
government.
REFLECTIONS
To return to the political state and prospects of Cuba. As for those
persons whose political opinions and plans are not regulated by moral
principle, it may be safely said that, whatever their plans, their
object will not be the good of Cuba, but their own advantage. Of those
who are governed by principle, each man's expectation or plan will
depend upon the general opinion he entertains respecting the nature of
men and of society. This is going back a good way for a test; but I am
convinced it is only going to the source of opinion and action. If a
man believes that human nature in an unrestrained course, is good, and
self-governing, and that when it is not so, there is a temporary and
local cause to be assigned for the deviation; if he believes that men,
at least in civilized society, are independent beings, by right entitled
to, and by nature capable of, the exercise of popular self-government,
and that if they have not this power in exercise, it is because they
have been deprived of it by somebody's fraud or violence, which ought to
be detected and remedied, as we abate a public nuisance in the highway;
if a man thinks that overturning a throne and erecting a constitution
will answer the purpose;--if these are his opinions as to men and
society, his plan for Cuba, and for every other part of the world, may
be simple. No wonder such a one is impatient of the inactivity of the
governed masses, and is in a constant state of surprise that the fraud
and violence of a few should always prevail over the rights and merits
of the many--when they themselves might end their thraldom by a blow,
and put their oppressors to rest--by a bare bodkin!
But if the history of the world and the observation of his own times
have led a man to the opinion that, of divine right and human necessity,
government of some sort there must be, in which power must be vested
somewhere, and exercised somehow; that popular self-government is rather
of the nature of a faculty than of a right; that human nature is so
constituted that the actual condition of civil society in any place and
nation is, on the whole, the fair result of conflicting forces of good
and evil--the power being in proportion to the need of power, and the
franchises to the capacity for using franchises; that autocrats and
oligarchs are the growth of the soil; and that every people has, in the
main, and in the long run, a government as good as it deserves; if such
is the substance of the belief to which he has been led or forced, he
will look gravely upon the future of such people as the Cubans, and
hesitate as to the invention and application of remedies. If he
reflects that of all the nations of the southern races in North and
South America, from Texas to Cape Horn, the Brazilians alone, who have a
constitutional monarchy, are in a state of order and progress; and if he
further reflects that Cuba, as a royal province, with all its evils, is
in a better condition than nearly all the Spanish republican states, he
may well be slow to believe that, with their complication of
difficulties, and causes of disorder and weakness--with their half
million or more of slaves and quarter million or less of free blacks,
with their coolies, and their divided and hostile races of whites--their
Spanish blood, and their utter want of experience in the discharge of
any public duties, the Cubans will work out successfully the problem of
self-government. You cannot reason from Massachusetts to Cuba. When
Massachusetts entered into the Revolution, she had had one hundred and
fifty years of experience in popular self-government under a system in
which the exercise of this power was more generally diffused among the
people, and extended over a larger class of subjects, and more
decentralized, than had ever been known before in any part of the world,
or at any period of the world's story. She had been, all along, for most
purposes, an independent republic, with an obligation to the British
Empire undefined and seldom attempted to be enforced. The thirteen
colonies were ships fully armed and equipped, officered and manned, with
long sea experience, sailing as a wing of a great fleet, under the
Admiral's fleet signals. They had only to pass secret signals, fall out
of line, haul their wind, and sail off as a squadron by themselves; and
if the Admiral with the rest of the fleet made chase and gave battle, it
was sailor to sailor and ship to ship. But Cuba has neither officers
trained to the quarter-deck, nor sailors trained to the helm, the yard,
or the gun. Nay, the ship is not built, nor the keel laid, nor is the
timber grown, from which the keel is to be cut.
The natural process for Cuba is an amelioration of her institutions
under Spanish auspices. If this is not to be had, or if the connection
with Spain is dissolved in any way, she will probably be substantially
under the protection of some other power, or a part of another empire.
Whatever nation may enter upon such an undertaking as this, should take
a bond of fate. Beside her internal danger and difficulties, Cuba is
implicated externally with every cause of jealousy and conflict. She has
been called the key to the Gulf of Mexico. But the Gulf of Mexico cannot
be locked. Whoever takes her is more likely to find in her a key to
Pandora's box. Close upon her is the great island of Jamaica, where the
experiment of free Negro labor, in the same products, is on trial. Near
to her is Haiti where the experiment of Negro self-government is on
trial. And further off, separated, it is true, by the great Gulf Stream,
and with the neighborhood of the almost uninhabited and uninhabitable
sea coast of southern Florida, yet near enough to furnish some cause for
uneasiness, are the slave-states of the Great Republic. She is an
island, too; and as an island, whatever power holds or protects her,
must maintain on the spot a sufficient army and navy, as it would not do
to rely upon being able to throw in troops and munitions of war, after
notice of need.
As to the wishes of the Cubans themselves, the degree of reliance they
place, or are entitled to place, on each other, and their opportunities
and capacity for organized action of any kind, I have already set down
all I can be truly said to know; and there is no end to assertion and
conjecture, or to the conflicting character of what is called
information, whether received through men or books.
XXII.
LEAVE-TAKING
All day there have been earnest looks to the northwest, for the smoke of
the "Cahawba." We are willing and desirous to depart. Our sights are
seen, our business done, and our trunks packed. While we are sitting
round our table after dinner, George, Mr. Miller's servant, comes in,
with a bright countenance, and says "There is a steamer off." We go to
the roof, and there, far in the N. W., is a small but unmistakable cloud
of steamer's smoke, just in the course the "Cahawba" would take. "Let us
walk down to the Punta, and see her come in." It is between four and
five o'clock, and a pleasant afternoon, and we saunter along, keeping in
the shade, and sit down on the boards at the wharf, in front of the
Presidio, near to where politicians are garroted, and watch the progress
of the steamer, amusing ourselves at the same time with seeing the
Negroes swimming and washing horses in the shallow water off the bank. A
Yankee flag flies from the signalpost of the Morro, but the Punta keeps
the steamer from our sight. It draws towards six o'clock, and no vessel
can enter after dark. We begin to fear she will not reach the point in
season. Her cloud of smoke rises over the Punta, the city clocks strike
six, the Morro strikes six, the trumpets bray out, the sun is down, the
signals on the Morro are lowering--"She'll miss it!"--"No--there she
is!"--and, round the Punta comes her sharp black head, and then her full
body, her toiling engine and smoking chimney and peopled decks, and
flying stars and stripes--Good luck to her! and, though the signal is
down, she pushes on and passes the forts without objection, and is lost
among the shipping.
My companions are so enthusiastic that they go on board; but I return to
my hotel and take a volante, and make my last calls, and take my last
looks, and am ready to leave in the morning.
In half an hour, the arrival of the "Cahawba" is known over all Havana,
and the news of the loss of her consort, the "Black Warrior," in a fog
off New York--passengers and crew and specie safe. My companions come
back. They met Capt. Bullock on the pier, and took tea with him in La
Dominica. He sails at two o'clock to-morrow.
* * * * *
I shall not see them again, but there they will be, day after day, day
after day--how long?--aye, how long?--the squalid, degraded chain-gang!
The horrible prison!--profaning one of the grandest of sites, where
city, sea and shore unite as almost nowhere else on earth! These were my
thoughts as, in the pink and gray dawn, I walked down the Paseo, to
enjoy my last refreshing in the rock-hewn sea-baths.
This leave-taking is a strange process, and has strange effects. How
suddenly a little of unnoticed good in what you leave behind comes out,
and touches you, in a moment of tenderness! And how much of the evil and
disagreeable seems to have disappeared! Le Grand, after all, is no more
inattentive and intractable than many others would become in his place;
and he does keep a good table, and those breakfasts are very pretty.
Antonio is no hydropathist, to be sure, and his ear distinguishes the
voices that pay best; yet one pities him in his routine, and in the fear
he is under, being a native of Old Spain, that his name will turn up in
the conscription, when he will have to shoulder his musket for five
years in the Cabaña and Punta. Nor can he get off the island, for the
permit will be refused him, poor fellow!
One or two of our friends are to remain here for they have pulmonary
difficulties, and prefer to avoid the North in March. They look a little
sad at being left alone, and talk of going into the country to escape
the increasing heat. A New York gentleman has taken a great fancy to
the volantes, and thinks that a costly one, with two horses, and
silvered postilion in boots and spurs and bright jacket would eclipse
any equipage in Fifth Avenue.
When you come to leave, you find that the strange and picturesque
character of the city has interested you more than you think; and you
stare out of your carriage to read the familiar signs, the names of
streets, the Obra Pia, Lamparilla, Mercaderes, San Ignacio, Obispo,
O'Reilly, and Oficios, and the pretty and fantastic names of the shops.
You think even the narrow streets have their advantages, as they are
better shaded, and the awnings can stretch across them, though, to be
sure, they keep out the air. No city has finer avenues than the Isabel
and the Tacón; and the palm trees, at least, we shall not see at the
North. Here is La Dominica. It is a pleasant place, in the evening,
after the Retreta, to take your tea or coffee under the trees by the
fountain in the court-yard, and meet the Americans and English--the only
public place, except the theater, where ladies are to be seen out of
their volantes. Still, we are quite ready to go; for we have seen all we
have been told to see in Havana, and it is excessively hot, and growing
hotter.
But no one can leave Cuba without a permit. When you arrive, the visé of
your passport is not enough, but you must pay a fee for a permit to land
and remain in the island; and when you wish to return, you must pay four
dollars to get back your passport, with a permit to leave. The
custom-house officials were not troublesome in respect to our luggage,
hardly examining it at all, and, I must admit, showed no signs of
expecting private fees. Along the range of piers, where the bows of the
vessels run in, and on which the labor of this great commerce is
performed, there runs a high, wide roof, covering all from the intense
rays of the sun. Before this was put up, they say that workmen used to
fall dead with sunstrokes, on the wharves.
On board the "Cahawba," I find my barrel of oranges from Iglesia, and
box of sweet-meats from La Dominica, and boxes of cigars from Cabaña's,
punctually delivered. There, once more, is Bullock, cheerful, and
efficient; Rodgers, full of kindness and good-humor; and sturdy,
trustworthy Miller, and Porter, the kindly and spirited; and the pleased
face of Henry, the captain's steward; and the familiar faces of the
other stewards; and my friend's son, who is well and very glad to see
me, and full of New Orleans, and of last night, which he spent on shore
in Havana. All are in good spirits, for a short sea voyage with old
friends is before us; and then--home!
The decks are loaded and piled up with oranges: oranges in barrels and
oranges in crates, filling all the wings and gangways, the barrels cut
to let in air, and the crates with bars just close enough to keep in the
oranges. The delays from want of lighters, and the great amount of
freight, keep us through the day; and it is nearly sundown before we get
under way. All day the fruit boats are along-side, and passengers and
crew lay in stocks of oranges and bananas and sapotes, and little boxes
of sweetmeats. At length, the last barrel is on board, the permits and
passenger-lists are examined, the revenue officers leave us, and we
begin to heave up our anchor.
The harbor is very full of vessels, and the room for swinging is small.
A British mail-steamer, and a Spanish man-of-war, and several
merchantmen, are close upon us. Captain Bullock takes his second mate
aft and they have a conference, as quietly as if they were arranging a
funeral. He is explaining to him his plan for running the warps and
swinging the ship, and telling him beforehand what he is to do in this
case, and what in that, and how to understand his signs, so that no
orders, or as few as possible, need be given at the time of action. The
engine moves, the warp is hauled upon, the anchor tripped, and dropped
again, and tripped again, the ship takes the right sheer, clear of
everything, and goes handsomely out of the harbor, the stars and stripes
at her peak, with a waving of hats from friends on the Punta wharf. The
western sky is gorgeous with the setting sun, and the evening drums and
trumpets sound from the encircling fortifications, as we pass the Casa
Blanca, the Cabaña, the Punta, and the Morro. The sky fades, the ship
rises and falls in the heave of the sea, the lantern of the Morro gleams
over the water, and the dim shores of Cuba are hidden from our sight.