CHAPTER XXIII.

SPAIN AND HER COLONIES.

Although the present King of Spain, Alfonso XIII, is the

great–great–grandson of Charles IV, Don Carlos V, the “pretender,”

is also a great–grandson of that monarch, and has probably a more

strictly legitimate claim to the throne than its occupant. Yet again,

the mother of Alfonso XIII, the Queen–Regent Christina, although

frequently alluded to by some of her subjects as “that Hapsburg woman,”

can claim an unbroken line of descent from Isabella and Ferdinand,

through Ferdinand I, second son of “Juana Loca” and Philip of Burgundy.

Thus the ancestry of his maternal parent may be said to legitimize

this titular King of Spain, while his posthumous birth “has excited a

feeling of pitying loyalty which may help to secure the Bourbon dynasty

in the last kingdom which is left to it.”[1]

Spain, under the regency, has been governed by a constitutional

monarchy, which was proclaimed in 1876. By its Constitution, the king

is inviolable; he is the executive, and the power to make laws is

vested in him and the Cortes, which comprises a senate and a congress,

coequal in authority. The senators are of three classes: First, those

by their own right, as grandees of the kingdom, privileged through

their titles and possessions; in the second place, those nominated by

the Crown; in the third, those elected by the communal and provincial

states, the church, universities, etc. Congress is composed of

deputies, at the rate of one to every fifty thousand in the population;

though since 1878 Cuba has been entitled to one in every forty thousand

of free inhabitants paying taxes to the amount of twenty–five dollars

annually.

The whole country is, or should be, represented in the legislative

power, and by the Constitution mutual checks are placed upon both king

and Cortes; for while the former issues his decrees, yet they must be

countersigned by one of his ministers, and he can not marry without

their approval. Further details of government are divided amongst the

ministers—of war, marine, agriculture, commerce, public works, justice,

finance, colonies, foreign affairs, and a president of the council.

Thus, while the king might be morally responsible for an unpopular law,

yet he could not be held accountable through his inviolability, and

the odium of it would fall upon the ministers of his appointing, who

might placate popular resentment by resigning. This explanation will

account for the frequent changes in the ministry, not only during the

reign of Alfonso XII, but under the regency. After the death of Alfonso

XII, and after the queen regent had taken the oath of allegiance to

the Constitution, a ministry was formed under the leadership of the

great Liberal, Señor Sagasta, to whom the Conservative Canovas promised

his support, as well as the Republican Castelar. Beneath the shadow

of their great calamity, all parties nobly rallied to the support of

the queen with a loyalty which was, if anything, intensified by the

birth of the infant Alfonso XIII, on May 17, 1886. But in September of

that year a revolt broke out under General Villafranca, in which ten

thousand men were more or less implicated, and which was suppressed

only after great exertions on the part of the loyal troops. The

premier, Sagasta, had pledged himself to reforms of many kinds, but he

had the greatest difficulty in redeeming them without the support of

the Government officials, who were as corrupt as they were numerous;

for, since the times when Spain owned vast colonial possessions, there

had always been a corrupt official class revelling in the uncounted

millions that overflowed from the colonial treasury. Even so late as

1888 it was estimated that nearly three million dollars were embezzled

during that year by civil employees, and thus the annual deficit was

vastly enhanced.

So, Liberal and Conservative ministries alternated every little while,

sometimes Canovas being in power, and again Sagasta. The position of

prime minister to the regency was at best a thankless task, and only

the highest patriotism could induce one to accept its onerous duties.

In 1893, for instance, Señor Sagasta was stoned by a mob at San

Sebastian; and in 1896, on the 7th of June, that upright and patriotic

statesman, Señor A. Canovas del Castillo, was assassinated by an

Italian anarchist; at the same time, other anarchists were attempting

to excite a revolution by means of bombs and dynamite. The trivial

pretexts upon which a ministry might be overthrown are illustrated in

an incident of the queen regent’s journey from Madrid to Valencia on

matters of state. She intrusted her nominal powers to the Infanta

Isabella, as also the military watchword; but the latter concluded

that she would take a little journey, and she in turn informed the

military governor, General Campos, that the “watchword” would be

given him at the proper time by her sister Eulalia. Thereupon General

Campos announced that, inasmuch as Eulalia was married to the Duc de

Montpensier, who held only the military rank of captain, he, a general,

could not, of course, receive the countersign from a subordinate! The

Minister of War being appealed to, General Campos resigned, and the

affair was not concluded until after the resignation of the entire

ministry, and Premier Sagasta had twice surrounded himself with a

new body of advisers. It would seem, indeed, that etiquette, not

patriotism, was paramount at the court of Spain! Next to etiquette,

superstition perhaps holds rank; for quite recently the bones of a

thirteenth–century saint were carried through the streets of Madrid,

followed by a procession of eight hundred priests, in order that a

threatened drought might be averted and the war with Cuba concluded.

* * * * *

At the beginning of the year 1898 Spain’s colonial possessions in

America comprised Cuba and Puerto Rico, the former with an area

of about 45,000 square miles, and a population then estimated at

1,600,000; the latter, about 3,600 square miles in area, and with

813,000 inhabitants. In Asia, the Philippine Islands, about 2,000 in

number, 114,300 square miles in area, and with a population of about

8,000,000; the Carolines and Palaos, 560 square miles in area, and

36,000 population; the Sulu Islands, 950 square miles, and 75,000

inhabitants; and the Marianne or Ladrone Islands, 420 square miles in

area, and with 10,000 population—a total of 164,830 square miles, and

10,521,000 people. In Africa and off its west coast, several small

colonies, aggregating 3,650 miles in area, and 461,000 population. A

grand total in America, Asia, and Africa of about 168,480 square miles,

and 10,982,000 population. Thus, notwithstanding her enormous losses in

the past, Spain still held foreign possessions, at the opening of 1898,

with an aggregate area nearly seven–eighths that of the mother country,

and a population more than half as large.

Three centuries and more ago Spain swayed the world, the possessions

pertaining to her great empire being vaster than those to–day

controlled by Great Britain. Her losses began near the close of the

sixteenth century, under Philip II, when her North African provinces

slipped away; under Philip III she lost Naples, Sicily, and Burgundy;

early in the seventeenth century she lost the Netherlands; a little

later, the rich Spice Islands of the East; in 1640, Portugal; in 1659,

the Pyrenean provinces of France; in 1704 Gibraltar fell into British

hands, and has been retained by Britain ever since; in 1800 Louisiana

was ceded to France, and that vast territory was forever lost when it

was sold by Bonaparte to the United States in 1803. The first quarter

of the nineteenth century saw the severance from Spain of all her South

American colonies, Central America, Mexico, and the Floridas; the

year before its close she lost her last remaining islands in the West

Indies—Cuba and Puerto Rico; and in Asia, the Philippines and the Sulus.

Rapidly reviewing the barbarous colonial policy of Spain—a policy

which has been consistently cruel and rapacious ever since it was

inaugurated in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella—the only wonder is

that she so long retained such vast and distant possessions, separated

from the governing country by broad oceans, and containing peoples

so numerous and dissimilar. The first large island discovered by

Columbus, which still retains its native name of Cuba, was inhabited by

Indians of gentle nature, courteous and kind. They were numerous also,

and cultivated the most fertile portions of the island. For nearly

twenty years after the discovery Cuba was left in peace; but when the

settlements were founded, the barbarities of Haiti and the Bahamas were

re–enacted, the Indians were enslaved, and reduced to such a condition

of misery that hundreds killed themselves in despair. It was not many

years, in truth, before they had entirely disappeared, having been

murdered, directly and indirectly, by the despicable Spaniards.

To fill their places, the Spaniards imported negro slaves from Africa,

who were treated, like the Indians, with excessive cruelty, but who

were more tenacious of life than the unfortunate aborigines, and their

descendants constitute a large proportion of the Cuban population at

the present time. One of the largest and wealthiest of Spain’s islands

beyond the sea, Cuba early became a prey to Spanish adventurers and

English freebooters. For more than three hundred years, except for

a short period in 1762, Cuba has been in the clutches of Spain, her

lands cultivated until within a few years by slave labour, her revenues

plundered by rapacious officials. Gradually there has grown up a

native population, distinct from the “peninsular” Spanish—a population

speaking the same language as the immigrants from the home country,

yet differing from them, inasmuch as about half the islanders have

mulatto or negro blood in their veins, and are looked upon and treated

by the “peninsulars” as inferiors.

During more than three hundred and fifty years the natives patiently

submitted to oppression and extortion in every form; but the political

disquietude in Spain was soon reflected in her colonies, and long after

the loss of Mexico, Central and South America to the motherland, Cuba

attempted to break the chains that bound her to Spain. There was an

uprising of the blacks in 1844, and in 1851 a filibustering raid under

General Lopez, a Venezuelan, who was killed in his third invasion of

the island, as well as several filibusters from the United States.

An offer to purchase the island, shortly after, made to Spain by the

President of the United States, met with no favour, as Spanish pride

and interests were against it.

The most serious revolt against the Spaniards occurred in 1868,

consequent upon the distracted condition of Spain during the

revolutionary proceedings which exiled Isabella II. The leader of this

revolt, Carlos de Cespedes, was subsequently elected president of a

republic which the insurgents finally set up, and for ten years,

during which at least seventy–five thousand Spanish soldiers perished

in the island, and the natives suffered every conceivable indignity

from the “peninsulars,” the war was waged, only to be concluded by a

deceitful promise of reforms which were never granted. General Martinez

Campos, then the Captain–General of Cuba, and authorized representative

of Spain, signed the “capitulation” of El Zanjon in 1878, by which

the insurgents were induced to surrender, under a pledge that their

demands should be acceded to; but Señor Canovas, then Prime Minister

of Spain, refused to recognise this treaty, and so all their terrible

sacrifices came to naught. It was but natural that the patriots should

feel resentful; but they remained quiescent for seventeen years, at the

end of which period, in February, 1895, the long–smouldering embers of

revolt again burst into flame.

[Illustration]

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