The island of Cuba was discovered by Columbus, in October of the year
1492; the continent of America was not discovered until six years
later,--that is, in 1498. Columbus and his followers found the land
inhabited by a peculiar race; hospitable, inoffensive, timid, fond of
the dance, yet naturally indolent. They had some definite idea of God
and heaven, and were governed by patriarchs whose age gave them
precedence. They spoke the dialect of the Lucagos or Bahamas, from which
islands it was thought they originated, but it would seem more
reasonable to suppose that both the people of the Bahamas and of the
West Indian islands originally came from the mainland; that is, either
from north or south of the Isthmus of Panama.
The natives were at once subjected by the new-comers, who reduced them
to a condition of slavery, and proving to be hard taskmasters, the poor
overworked creatures died by hundreds, until they had nearly
disappeared. They were of tawny complexion, and beardless, resembling in
many respects our native Indians. As Columbus described them in his
first letter sent to his royal patrons in Spain, they were "loving,
tractable, and peaceable; though entirely naked, their manners were
decorous and praiseworthy." The wonderful fertility of the soil, its
range of noble mountains, its widespread and well-watered plains, with
its extended coast-line and excellent harbors, all challenged the
admiration of the discoverers, so that Columbus recorded in his journal
these words: "It is the most beautiful island that the eyes of man ever
beheld, full of excellent ports and deep rivers."
The Spaniards were surprised to see the natives using rude pipes, in
which they smoked a certain dried leaf with apparent gratification.
Tobacco was native to the soil, and in the use of this now well-nigh
universal narcotic, these simple savages indulged in an original luxury,
or habit, which the Spanish invaders were not slow in acquiring.
The flowers were strongly individualized. The frangipanni, tall, and
almost leafless, with thick, flesh-like shoots, and decked with a small,
white blossom, was fragrant and abundant. Here, also, was the wild
passion-flower, in which the Spaniards thought they beheld the emblem of
our Saviour's passion. The golden-hued peta was found beside the
myriad-flowering oleander and the night-blooming cereus, while the
luxuriant undergrowth was braided with the cactus and the aloe. They
were also delighted by tropical fruits in confusing variety, of which
they knew not even the names.
This was four hundred years ago, and to-day the same flowers and the
same luscious fruits grow upon the soil in similar abundance. Nature in
this land of endless summer puts forth strange eagerness, ever running
to fruits, flowers, and fragrance, as if they were outlets for her
exuberant fancy.
Diego Velasquez, the first governor of the island under Spanish rule,
appears to have been an energetic magistrate, and to have ruled affairs
with intelligence. He did not live, however, in a period when justice
erred on the side of mercy, and his harsh and cruel treatment of the
natives will always remain a blot upon his memory. Emigration was
fostered by the home government, and cities were established in the
several divisions of the island; but the new province was mainly
considered in the light of a military station by the Spanish government
in its operations against Mexico. Thus Cuba became the headquarters of
the Spanish power in the west, forming the point of departure for those
military expeditions which, though small in number, were yet so
formidable in the energy of the leaders, and in the arms, discipline,
courage, fanaticism, and avarice of their followers, that they were
fully adequate to carry out the vast scheme of conquest for which they
were designed.
The Spaniards who invaded Mexico encountered a people who had attained a
far higher degree of civilization than their red brethren of the
outlying Caribbean Islands, or those of the northeastern portion of the
continent, now forming the United States. Vast pyramids, imposing
sculptures, curious arms, fanciful garments, various kinds of
manufactures, filled the invaders with surprise. There was much which
was curious and strange in their religion, while the capital of the
Mexican empire presented a fascinating spectacle to the eyes of Cortez
and his followers. The rocky amphitheatre in the midst of which it was
built still remains, but the great lake which was its grandest feature,
traversed by causeways and covered with floating gardens, is gone. The
Aztec dynasty was doomed. In vain did the inhabitants of the conquered
city, roused to madness by the cruelty and extortion of the victors,
expel them from their midst. Cortez refused to flee further than the
shore; the light of his burning vessels rekindled the desperate valor of
his followers, and Mexico fell, as a few years after did Peru beneath
the sword of Pizarro, thus completing the scheme of conquest, and
giving Spain a colonial empire more splendid than that of any power in
Christendom.
In the meantime, under numerous and often-changed captains-general, the
island of Cuba increased in population by free emigration from Spain,
and by the constant cruel importation of slaves from Africa. It may be
said to have been governed by a military despotism from the outset to
the present time, and nothing short of such an arbitrary rule could have
maintained the connection between the island and so exacting a mother
country, situated more than three thousand miles across the ocean.
The form of the island is quite irregular, resembling the blade of a
Turkish cimeter slightly curved back, or that of a long, narrow
crescent. It stretches away in this shape from east to west, throwing
its western end into a curve, and thus forming a partial barrier to the
outlet of the Gulf of Mexico, as if at some ancient period it had been a
part of the American continent, severed on its north side from the
Florida Peninsula by the wearing of the Gulf Stream, and from Yucatan on
its southwestern point by a current setting into the Gulf. Two channels
are thus formed by which the Mexican Gulf is entered.
One neither departs from nor approaches the Cuban shore without crossing
that remarkable ocean-river to which we have so often referred in these
pages,--the Gulf Stream,--with banks and bottom of cold water, while its
body and surface are warm. Its color in the region of the Gulf is
indigo-blue, so distinct that the eye can follow its line of demarkation
where it joins the common water of the sea. Its surface temperature on
the coast of the United States is from 75° to 80°. Its current, of a
speed of four to five miles per hour, expends immense power in its
course, and forms a body of water in the latitude of the Carolina coast
fully two hundred miles wide. Its temperature diminishes very gradually,
while it moves thousands of leagues, until one branch loses itself in
Arctic regions, and the other breaks on the coast of Europe.
The sea-bottom, especially near the continents, resembles the
neighboring land, and consists of hills, mountains, and valleys, like
the earth upon which we live. A practical illustration of this fact is
found in the soundings taken by the officers of our Coast Survey in the
Caribbean Sea, where a valley was found giving a water-depth of three
thousand fathoms, twenty-five miles south of Cuba. The Cayman Islands,
in that neighborhood, are the summits of mountains bordering this deep
valley at the bottom of the sea, which has been found, by a series of
soundings, to extend over seven hundred miles from between Cuba and
Jamaica nearly to the Bay of Honduras, with an average breadth of eighty
miles. Thus the island of Grand Cayman, scarcely twenty feet above
sea-level, is said to be a mountain-top twenty thousand five hundred and
sixty feet above the bottom of the submarine valley beside which it
rises,--an altitude exceeding that of any mountain on the North American
continent. A little more than five miles, or say twenty-seven thousand
feet, is the greatest depth yet sounded at sea.
Cuba is the most westerly of the West Indian Islands, and compared with
the others has nearly twice as much superficial extent of territory,
being about as large as England proper, without the principality of
Wales. Its greatest length from east to west is very nearly eight
hundred miles, its narrowest part is over twenty miles, and its average
width fifty. The circumference is two thousand miles, and it contains
over forty thousand square miles.
The nearest port of the island to this continent is Matanzas, lying
due-south from Cape Sable, Florida, a distance of a hundred and thirty
miles. Havana is situated some sixty miles west of Matanzas, and it is
here that the island divides the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico, whose
coast-line measures six thousand miles, finding the outlet for its
commerce along the shore of Cuba, almost within range of the guns in
Moro Castle. Lying thus at our very door, as it were, this island stands
like a sentinel guarding the approaches to the Gulf of Mexico, whose
waters wash the shores of five of the United States, and by virtue of
the same position barring the entrance of the great river, the
Mississippi, which drains half the continent of North America. So, also,
Cuba keeps watch and ward over our communication with California by way
of the Isthmus of Panama. It is not surprising, therefore, when we
realize the commanding position of the island, that so much interest
attaches to its ultimate destiny.
Matanzas is situated in one of the most fertile portions of the island,
the city covering the picturesque hills by which the bay is surrounded.
The fortifications are of a meagre character and could not withstand a
well-directed attack for half an hour. The custom house is the most
prominent building which strikes the eye on approaching the city by
water. Though built of stone, it is only one story in height, and was
erected at the commencement of the present century. The city is
connected with Havana by railway, of which there are nearly a thousand
miles in operation in the island.
Club life prevails at Matanzas, as usual at the expense of domestic or
family ties; the same may be said of Havana, and both cities in this
respect are like London. It is forbidden to discuss politics in these
Cuban clubs, the hours being occupied mostly in playing cards, dominoes,
chess, and checkers, for money. Gambling is as natural and national in
Cuba as in China. Many Chinese are seen about the streets and stores of
Matanzas, variously employed, and usually in a most forlorn and
impoverished condition,--poor creatures who have survived their
"apprenticeship" and are now free. They were brought here under the
disguise of the Coolie system, as it is called, but which was only
slavery in another form. These Chinese are peaceful, do not drink
spirituous liquors, work hard, never meddle with politics, and live on
one-half they can earn, so as to save enough to pay their passage home
to their beloved land. Few succeed; eight-tenths of those imported into
the island have been not only cheated out of the promised wages, but
worked to death!
The famous afternoon drive and promenade of Matanzas was formerly the
San Carlos Paseo. It has fine possibilities, and is lined and
beautifully ornamented with thrifty Indian laurels. It overlooks the
spacious harbor and outer bay, but is now entirely neglected and
abandoned; even the roadway is green with vegetation, and gullied with
deep hollows. It is the coolest place in the city at the evening hour,
but the people have become so poor that there are hardly a dozen private
vehicles in the city. Matanzas, like all the cities of Cuba, is under
the shadow of depressed business, evidence of which meets one on every
hand.
Havana is a thoroughly representative city, and is the centre of the
talent, wealth, and population of the island. Moro Castle, with its
Dahlgren guns peeping out through the yellow stones, and its tall
lighthouse, stands guard over the narrow entrance of the harbor. The
battery of La Punta, on the opposite shore, answers to the Moro. There
are also the long range of cannon and barracks on the city side, and the
massive fortress of the Cabanas crowning the hill behind the Moro. All
these are decorated with the yellow flag of Spain,--the banner of gold
and blood. These numerous and powerful fortifications show how important
the home government regards this island, and yet modern gunnery renders
these defences comparatively useless.
The city presents a large extent of public buildings, cathedrals,
antique and venerable churches. It has been declared in its prosperity
to be the richest city, for its number of square miles, in Christendom,
but this cannot be truthfully said of it now. There is nothing grand in
its appearance as we enter the harbor, though Baron Humboldt pronounced
it the gayest and most picturesque sight in America. Its architecture is
not remarkable, its enormous prison overshadowing all other public
buildings. This structure is designed to contain five thousand prisoners
at one time. The hills which make up the distant background are not
sufficiently high to add much to the general effect. The few palm-trees
which catch the eye here and there give an Oriental aspect to the scene,
quite in harmony with the atmospheric tone of intense sunshine.
Havana contains numerous institutions of learning, but not of a high
character. It has a medical and a law school, but education is at a low
ebb. There is a Royal Seminary for girls, but it is scarcely more than
a name. The means of obtaining a good education can hardly be said to
exist, and most of the youth of both sexes belonging to the wealthier
class are sent to this country for school purposes. The city was
originally surrounded by a wall, though the population has long since
extended its dwellings and business structures far into what was once
the suburbs. A portion of the old wall is still extant, crumbling and
decayed, but it has mostly disappeared. The narrow streets of the old
town are paved or macadamized, and cross each other at right angles; but
in their dimensions they recall those of Toledo in Spain, whose Moorish
architecture is also followed here.
The Paseo is the favorite afternoon drive of the citizens, where the
ladies in open carriages and the gentlemen on horseback pass and repass
each other, gayly saluting, the ladies with a coquettish flourish of the
fan, and the gentlemen with a peculiar wave of the hand. The Alameda, a
promenade and garden combined,--every Spanish city has a spot so
designated,--skirts the shore of the harbor on the city side, near the
south end of Oficios Street, and is a favorite resort for promenaders,
where a refreshing coolness is breathed from off the sea. This Alameda
might be a continuation of the Neapolitan Chiaja (the afternoon resort
of Naples). With characteristics quite different, still these shores
remind us of the Mediterranean, Sorrento, Amalfi, and Capri, recalling
the shadows which daily creep up the heights of San Elmo, and disappear
with the setting sun behind the orange-groves.
The cathedral of Havana, on Empedrado Street, is a structure of much
interest, its rude pillared front of defaced and moss-grown stone
plainly telling of the wear of time. The two lofty towers are hung with
many bells which daily call to morning and evening prayers, as they have
done for a hundred years and more. The church is not elaborately
ornamented, but strikes one as being unusually plain. It contains a few
oil paintings of moderate merit; but most important of all is the tomb
where the ashes of Columbus so long reposed. All that is visible of this
tomb, which is on the right of the altar, is a marble tablet six feet
square, upon which, in high relief, is a bust of the great discoverer.
As we view the scene, Military Mass begins. The congregation is very
small, consisting almost exclusively of women, who seem to do penance
for both sexes in Cuba. The military band, which leads the column of
infantry, marches, playing an operatic air, while turning one side for
the soldiery to pass on towards the altar. The time-keeping steps of the
men upon the marble floor mingle with drum, fife, and organ. Over all,
one catches now and then the subdued voice of the priest, reciting his
prescribed part at the altar, where he kneels and reads alternately. The
boys in white gowns busily swing incense vessels; the tall, flaring
candles cast long shadows athwart the high altar; the files of soldiers
kneel and rise at the tap of the drum; seen through an atmosphere
clouded by the fumes of burning incense, all this combines to make up a
picture which is sure to forcibly impress itself upon the memory.
It seems unreasonable that, when the generous, fruitful soil of Cuba is
capable of producing two or three crops of vegetation annually, the
agricultural interests of the island should be so poorly developed.
Thousands of acres of virgin soil have never been broken. Cuba is
capable of supporting a population of almost any density; certainly
five or six millions of people might find goodly homes here, and yet the
largest estimate of the present number of inhabitants gives only a
million and a half. When we tread the fertile soil and behold the
clustering fruits in such abundance,--the citron, the star-apple, the
perfumed pineapple, the luscious banana, and others,--not forgetting the
various noble woods which caused Columbus to exclaim with pleasure, we
are forcibly struck with the thought of how much nature, and how little
man, has done for this "Eden of the Gulf." We long to see it peopled by
those who can appreciate the gifts of Providence,--men willing to do
their part in grateful recognition of the possibilities so liberally
bestowed by Heaven.
As we go on shipboard to sail for our American home, some reflections
naturally occur to us. To visit Cuba is not merely to pass over a few
degrees of latitude; it is to take a step from the nineteenth century
back into the dark ages. In a climate of tropical luxuriance and endless
summer, we are in a land of starless political darkness. Lying under the
lee of a Republic, where every man is a sovereign, is a realm where the
lives, liberties, and fortunes of all are held at the will of a single
individual, who acknowledges no responsibility save to a nominal ruler
more than three thousand miles away.
Healthful in climate, varied in productions, and most fortunately
situated for commerce, there must yet be a grand future in store for
Cuba. Washed by the Gulf Stream on half her border, she has the
Mississippi pouring out its riches on one side, and the Amazon on the
other. In such close proximity to the United States, and with so obvious
a common interest, her place seems naturally to be within our own
constellation of stars.
But as regards the final destiny of Cuba, that question will be settled
by certain economic laws which are as sure in their operation as are
those of gravitation. No matter what our individual wishes may be in
this matter, such feelings are as nothing when arraigned against natural
laws. The commerce of the island is a stronger factor in the problem
than is mere politics; it is the active agent of civilization all over
the world. It is not cannon, but ships; not gunpowder, but peaceful
freights which settle the great questions of mercantile communities. As
the United States take over ninety per cent of her entire exports,
towards this country Cuba naturally looks for fellowship and protection.
The world's centre of commercial gravity is changing very fast by reason
of the rapid development of the United States, and all lands surrounding
the Union must conform, sooner or later, to the prevailing lines of
motion.
[Illustration: Shell.]
End of Project Gutenberg's Foot-prints of Travel, by Maturin M. Ballou