o'clock start for the town of Jaruco, some twenty miles away. It was as
dark as night when we stepped into the carriage to go to the ferry and
the train--damp, heavy, just a morning for chills. Some members of the
committee joined us at the train, and as daylight and sunrise came, the
sight, in spite of neglect and devastation, was magnificently lovely.
The stately groves of royal palms looked benignly down on the less
pretentious banana and cocoanut, each doing its best to provide for and
keep life in a starving, dying people. Nine o'clock brought us to the
town, where we were met and right royally welcomed by its leading
people. The mayor took us in his carriage to the church, followed by a
crowd of people that filled its centre. The plain, simple services told
in repeated sentences the heart gratitude of a stricken people to God
for what he had put into the hearts of America to do. She had remembered
them when all was gone, when hunger, pain and death alone remained to
them; and when that assemblage of pale, hollow faces and attenuated
forms knelt on the rough stone floor in praise to the Great Giver, one
felt if this was not acceptable, no worship might ever hope to be. From
the church to the house of the mayor, the judge, the doctor and other
principal men of the town. It now remained to see what we had "gone for
to see." Two hours' wandering about in the hot sunshine from hovel to
hovel dark and damp, thatched roof and ground floor, no furniture,
sometimes a broken bench, a few rags of clothing; some of the people
could walk about, some could not, but all had something to eat. Thank
God, if not _all_ their lean bodies might crave, still _something_, and
while they showed their skeleton bodies and feet swollen to bursting,
they still blessed the people of the country that had remembered them
with food.
The line of march was long and weary, and ended with the "hospital."
What shall I say of it? If only a sense of decency were consulted one
would say nothing; but truth and facts demand a record. We tried to
enter, to reach a poor, wretched looking human being on a low cot on the
far side of the room, but were driven back by the stench that met us,
not alone the smell one might expect in such a place of neglect, but the
dead had evidently lain there unremoved until putrefaction had taken
place. There were perhaps four wrecks of men in the various rooms,
doubtless left there to die. Like a body of retreating soldiers, driven
but not defeated, we went a few rods out and rallied, and calling for
volunteers and picked men for service, determined to "storm the works."
Jaruco is one of the great points of devastation; it is said that more
people have died there than the entire town numbers in time of peace; it
is still almost a city of reconcentrados.
Naturally, the inhabitants who survive have given all they had many
times over in these terrible months. Everything is scarce and dear; even
water has to be bought. This was the first point of attack. Twenty good
soldiers, with only dirt and filth as enemies, can make some progress.
Water by the dray load, lime by the barrel, brushes, brooms, blue for
whitewash, hatchets, buckets and things most needful, made up the
equipment; and late in the afternoon, when Mr. Elwell, who might well
be termed the "Vigilant," returned to look after the work, preparatory
to leaving for home, he found the four poor patients in clean clothes,
on clean beds, in the sunshine, eating crackers and milk, the house
cleaned, scrubbed, limed, and being whitewashed from ceiling to floor.
It will be finished to-morrow. Sunday and to-day (Monday), we ship cots,
blankets, sheets, pillow-slips, all the first utensils needed to make a
plain hospital for twenty-five, to be increased to fifty--the food to go
regularly. The sick, lying utterly helpless in the hovels, to be
selected with care and sent to the hospital, a nurse placed with them,
the doctor already there in Jaruco to attend them, and send frequent
reports of condition and needs. In two weeks time we may hope to see,
not only a hospital that may bear the name, but progress of its patients
that may be noted.
I am writing this at length, because it is the first of hundreds that
should follow throughout the island, and a type of what we shall
endeavor to accomplish.
It will naturally be asked if we expect the Spanish authorities to
permit us to do this. Judging from to-day, we have reason to expect
every co-operation. The commandant of the town was one of the men who
welcomed us; and so far as they had the materials desired, offered them
for our use; it was very well, as there were some we could get in no
other way.
The crowd that followed us was bewildering--the little children in
pitiful proportions. We had prepared ourselves for this by a large
invoice of five-cent scrip. An intimation of our desire to the priest
arranged the matter quickly. All under, perhaps, six to seven years old,
were sent into the church to come out at a side door, with Mr. Elwell
and myself on each side as doorkeepers. Every pale passing hand took its
scrip, and the gladness that beamed in their little wan faces was good
for angels' eyes. They rushed into the street, romping and tumbling like
actual live children, which they had no longer seemed to be.
There was but one more feature to mark this memorable day. After leaving
the hospital we were told that a deputation of ladies desired to call on
us. We were in the house of a naturalized American citizen, and prepared
to receive them. They entered slowly and reverently, the leader bearing
a deep plate of choice flowers. As she handed them to me, I perceived in
the center a large envelope with a half-inch border of black, and a
black ribbon with a tied bow encircling it. The envelope was addressed
to me. The first sentence, with tender, trembling voice, told the
purport of it all: "For the dead of the Maine."
The crowd, full of hope and blessing, followed us to the train, and as
we passed on, gentle, tender-eyed women came down the banks from their
cottages with little baskets of flowers to be passed into the
carriage--and ever the black-bordered tribute:
"To the dead of the Maine."
[ BLACK BORDER ]
It was long after dark when we reached our new home, and we were weary
enough to find it welcome; but glad of our day's work, as a type of many
more which we confidently expect will follow.
In our banking operations I learned the full address of our excellent
hostess, which she had been too modest to name to me:
"Senora Serafina Moliner de Jorrin."
Titles: "Eccelentisima." "Ilustrisima."
We have always had occasion to feel those titles to be well deserved.
Indeed, in groping our way among the poor and helpless, we have found
that Cuba is not without its diamonds of worth, nobleness and culture.
We were still searching diligently for a suitable location for the
orphanage which I had been requested to open.
Through the social relations of Senora we were immediately put into
communication with Senor José Almagro on Tulipan street, who placed at
our disposal his own private residence, a charming house with large
gardens, stables, swimming baths, fruit and flowers.
Members of the staff, Drs. Hubbell and Egan, together with Dr. and Mrs.
Lesser, had meanwhile arrived by steamship from New York.
The diary goes on to say in regard to the orphanage, its location and
surroundings:
"It seems to lack nothing. Large, commodious, healthful, easy of access,
beautiful to elegance, with tropical gardens, royal palms, swimming
baths, and capable of caring for two hundred children, either well or
sick,--and for all this the modest, little rent of one hundred and two
dollars per month. Attention was first directed to this piece of
property on Saturday, February 27. At night the contract was made and
signed. On Sunday--"tell it not in Gath"--oh, Christian world, be gentle
in your judgment, if a few men, rather than stand about the streets,
hunger-stricken, waiting for the crust that came not, earned a few
welcome dollars on its frescoed walls, stained glass windows and marble
floors.
"On Monday seventy-five new cots, blankets, pillows and sheets adorned
its spacious rooms. On Tuesday, March 1, Mrs. Dr. Lesser, our practical
"Sister Bettina," who had taken the superintendence, made the necessary
outfit,--food and medicine from the warehouse; and from Los Fosos, that
terrible den of suffering, the pale lifeless, helpless, starved little
creatures to fill the waiting cots--a few good nurses to lift the heads
that could not lift themselves and fill the mouths that had scarcely
ever before been filled."
This, then, was the orphanage. May I be pardoned for saying reverently,
we looked on our work and found it good, and felt that we might now
leave the little, tired creatures to rest in the faithful hands that had
so lovingly and intelligently taken them up, while we turned away to
other fields.
MATANZAS.
Among the welcome, notable persons who from time to time visited us, led
by their interest in the great suffering reported through the press,
were Senator Redfield Proctor and his friend, Hon. M.M. Parker, of
Washington, D.C. They had come imbued with the desire, not only to see
the condition of the island and the people, but to try to find as well,
what could be done for them,--to gain some practical knowledge which
could be used for their benefit. There seemed to be no more certain way
of their gaining this information than by inviting them to accompany us
on the various tours of investigation which we would be now able to make
outside of Havana. Reports of great suffering had come from Matanzas,
and it was decided that _that_ should be our next point of inspection.
The once-a-day run of the trains made early rising a necessity; and
half-past four in the morning, dark and chilly, found us on the way to
the train for Matanzas. Our own small party was joined at the ferry by
our Washington friends, and together, as the train speeded on, we
watched the gorgeous sunrise spread itself over these strangely deserted
lands.
Matanzas has some fifty thousand of its own inhabitants, greatly
increased by the reconcentrado element, which had gathered there to
exist hopelessly in enforced idleness for nearly two years.
It is needless to say that all the diseases incident to exposure,
physical want and mental woe, from gaunt, lingering hunger down to
actual starvation and death, had developed among them. For some
reason--possibly a sense of pity--our consul seemed to dread to show us
their worst, which were evidently their hospitals, and hesitatingly led
the way to other centres of the town. But there was no hesitancy on the
part of the governor, Senor Francisco de Armas--a royal Cuban and a new
appointee of Captain-General Blanco--with warm heart and polished
manner, in welcoming us to his elegant mansion, and in bringing his
wife, his mother and sister, to assist in receiving and to bid us
welcome to all they had to offer or that we could desire. The
half-hour's seance in that polished marble salon, with its spacious
elegance, the deep feelings of the governor, the still deeper sympathy
of the ladies, whose daily time is given to the poor sufferers around
them, was a scene not to be forgotten. In all that was said, not a word
of crimination, nor a disrespectful allusion to any person, or nation,
or government; but the glistening eyes and trembling lips when the word
_Americano_ was spoken, told how deep a root the course of our people
had taken in the thrice harrowed soil of these poor broken hearts.
But the worst must be seen, and as we drove out of the town we halted
for a short call at the municipal hospital, generally attended by
sisters of charity, scantily provided it is true, but well cared for; a
little is paid per week, either by, or, for each patient in this
institution, which helps to keep up the general fund. Our welcome by the
sisters was most cordial, and we were grateful for every faint smile
that passed over each pallid face. A mile further on we came to the four
hospitals where nothing was paid, and apparently nothing had. There were
between one hundred and two hundred men, women and children, in all
stages of hunger and disease. There were empty beds for as many more
that could have been thrice filled from the huts outside; but the
hospital authorities feared to take more in, lest they die through their
inability to feed them. It is not my purpose to detail woe, nor picture
horrors; I leave that to others, if more of it must be had; let my few
words tell how they were met and how the comfort that could be given,
was given, or at least attempted.
The purses and the pockets of our entire party were emptied, and as the
cold, thin fingers closed feebly over the coin so strange to the touch,
the murmured prayer for America fell from every lip. Our visit had been
one of inspection, returning to Havana by the afternoon train.
The hospital committee and surgeons had been organized to work under our
charge, and begging that one of our Red Cross men be temporarily
assigned to them for their distribution, we turned our steps toward
Havana, with a thankfulness unspoken in our hearts for the great head of
our country who had asked for this food, the great-hearted people who
had given it, and the efficient and tireless committee which had
organized and sent it.
The train of next day took out supplies of cereal foods, condensed milk,
malted milk, meal, rice, flour, crackers, meat, fish, farina, tomatoes,
canned vegetables and fruits--more than enough to hold those four
hospitals comfortable till the promised shipment by the "Bergen" from
New York, direct to Matanzas, should arrive.
It was from information gathered by the party on this trip that Senator
Proctor afterward made his speech in the U.S. Senate upon the condition
of the reconcentrados.
[From a speech by Senator Redfield Proctor, of Vermont, in the U.S.
Senate, March 17, 1898.]
There are six provinces in Cuba, each, with the exception of
Matanzas, extending the whole width of the island, and having about
an equal sea front on the north and south borders. Matanzas touches
the Caribbean Sea only at its southwest corner, being separated from
it elsewhere by a narrow peninsula of Santa Clara Province. The
provinces are named, beginning at the west, Pinar del Rio, Havana,
Matanzas, Santa Clara, Puerto Principe and Santiago de Cuba.
My observations were confined to the four western provinces, which
constitute about one-half the island. The two eastern ones are
practically in the hands of the insurgents, except a few fortified
towns. These two large provinces are spoken of to-day as "Cuba
Libre."
Havana, the great city and capital of the island, is, in the eyes of
the Spaniards and many Cubans, all Cuba, as much as Paris in France.
But having visited it in more peaceful times and seen its sights,
the tomb of Columbus, the forts of Cabanas and Morro Castle, etc., I
did not care to repeat this, preferring trips in the country.
Everything seems to go on much as usual in Havana. Quiet prevails
and except for the frequent squads of soldiers marching to guard and
police duty and their abounding presence in all public places, one
sees little signs of war.
Outside Havana all is changed. It is not peace, nor is it war. It is
desolation and distress, misery and starvation.
Every town and village is surrounded by a trocha (trench) a sort of
rifle pit, but constructed on a plan new to me, the dirt being
thrown up on the inside and a barbed wire fence on the outer side of
the trench.
These trochas have at every corner, and at frequent intervals along
the sides, what are there called forts, but which are really small
block-houses, many of them more like a large sentry box, loop-holed
for musketry, and with a guard of from two to ten soldiers in each.
The purpose of these trochas is to keep reconcentrados in as well as
to keep the insurgents out.
From all the surrounding country the people have been driven into
these fortified towns and held there to subsist as they can. They
are virtually prison yards and not unlike one in general appearance,
except that the walls are not so high and strong, but they suffice,
where every point is in range of a soldier's rifle, to keep in the
poor reconcentrado women and children.
Every railroad station is within one of these trochas and has an
armed guard. Every train has an armored freight car, loop-holed for
musketry, and filled with soldiers and with, as I observed usually,
and was informed is always the case, a pilot engine a mile or so in
advance. There are frequent block-houses enclosed by a trocha and
with a guard along the railroad track. With this exception there is
no human life or habitation between these fortified towns and
villages throughout the whole of the four western provinces, except
to a very limited extent among the hills, where the Spaniards have
not been able to go and drive the people to the towns and burn their
dwellings.
[Illustration: HAVANA HARBOR.]
[Illustration: CAPTAIN C.D. SIGSBEE.]
I saw no house or hut in the 400 miles of railroad rides from Pinar
del Rio Province in the west across the full width of Havana and
Matanzas Provinces, and to Sagua La Grando on the north shore and to
Cienfuegos on the south shore of Santa Clara, except within the
Spanish trochas. There are no domestic animals or crops on the rich
fields and pastures except such as are under guard in the immediate
vicinity of the towns.
In other words, the Spaniards hold in these four western provinces
just what their army sits on.
Every man, woman and child and every domestic animal, wherever their
columns have reached, is under guard and within their so-called
fortifications. To describe one place is to describe all.
To repeat, it is neither peace nor war.
It is concentration and desolation. This is the "pacified" condition
of the four western provinces.
All the country people in the four western provinces, about 400,000
in number, remaining outside the fortified towns when Weyler's order
was made, were driven into these towns, and these are the
reconcentrados. They were the peasantry, many of them farmers, some
land-owners, others renting lands and owning more or less stock,
others working on estates and cultivating small patches, and even a
small patch in that fruitful clime will support a family.
It is but fair to say that the normal condition of these people was
very different from that which prevails in this country. Their
standard of comfort and prosperity was not high, measured by our
own, but according to their standards and requirements, their
conditions of life were satisfactory.
They lived mostly in cabins made of palm or in wooden houses. Some
of them had houses of stone, the blackened walls of which are all
that remains to show that the country was ever inhabited.
The first clause of Weyler's order reads as follows:
"I order and command:
"First--All the inhabitants of the country now outside of the line
of fortifications of the towns shall within the period of eight days
concentrate themselves in the town so occupied by the troops. Any
individual who after the expiration of this period is found in the
uninhabited parts will be considered a rebel and tried as such."
The other three sections forbid the transportation of provisions
from one town to another without permission of the military
authority, direct the owners of cattle to bring them into the towns,
prescribe that the eight days shall be counted from the publication
of the proclamation to the head town of the municipal districts, and
state that if news is furnished of the enemy which can be made use
of it will serve as a "recommendation."
Many doubtless did not learn of this order. Others failed to grasp
its terrible meaning. Its execution was left largely to the
guerillas to drive in all that had not obeyed, and I was informed
that in many cases a torch was applied to their homes with no
notice, and the inmates fled with such clothing as they might have
on, their stock and their belongings being appropriated by the
guerillas.
When they reached the town they were allowed to build huts of palm
leaves in the suburbs and vacant places within the trochas, and were
left to live if they could. Their huts are about ten by fifteen feet
in size, and for want of space are usually crowded together very
closely. They have no floor but the ground, and no furniture, and
after a year's wear but little clothing, except such stray
substitutes as they can extemporize.
With large families or with more than one in this little space, the
commonest sanitary provisions are impossible. Conditions are
unmentionable in this respect.
Torn from their homes, with foul earth, foul air, foul water and
foul food, or none, what wonder that one-half have died and that
one-quarter of the living are so diseased that they cannot be saved.
A form of dropsy is a common disorder resulting from these
conditions. Little children are still walking about with arms and
chests terribly emaciated, eyes swollen and abdomen bloated to three
times the natural size. The physicians say these cases are hopeless.
Deaths in the streets have not been uncommon. I was told by one of
our consuls that people have been found dead about the markets in
the morning where they had crawled hoping to get some stray bits of
food from the early hucksters, and that there had been cases where
they had dropped dead inside the market, surrounded by food.
These people were independent and self-supporting before Weyler's
order. They are not beggars even now. There are plenty of
professional beggars in every town among the regular residents, but
these country people, the reconcentrados, have not learned the art.
Rarely is a hand held out to you for alms when going among their
huts, but the sight of them makes an appeal stronger than words.
The hospitals--of these I need not speak; others have described
their condition far better than I can.
It is not within the narrow limits of my vocabulary to portray it. I
went to Cuba with a strong conviction that the picture had been
overdrawn; that a few cases of starvation and suffering had inspired
and stimulated the press correspondents, and that they had given
free play to a strong, natural and highly cultivated imagination.
I could not believe that out of a population of one million six
hundred thousand, 200,000 had died within these Spanish forts,
practically prison walls, within a few months past, from actual
starvation and disease caused by insufficient and improper food.
My inquiries were entirely outside of sensational sources. They were
made by our medical officers, of our consuls, of city alcaldes
(mayors), of relief committees, of leading merchants and bankers,
physicians and lawyers. Several of my informants were Spanish born,
but every time came the answer that the case had not been
overstated.
What I saw I cannot tell so that others can see it. It must be seen
with one's own eyes to be realized.
The Los Fosos Hospital, in Havana, has been recently described by
one of my colleagues, Senator Gallinger, and I cannot say that his
picture was overdrawn, for even his fertile pen could not do more.
He visited it after Dr. Lesser, one of Miss Barton's very able and
efficient assistants, had renovated it and put in cots.
I saw it when 400 women and children were lying on the stone floors
in an indescribable state of emaciation and disease, many with the
scantiest covering of rags, and such rags! and sick children, naked
as they came into the world. And the conditions in the other cities
are even worse.
Miss Barton and her work need no indorsement from me. I had known
and esteemed her for many years, but had not half appreciated her
capability and devotion to her work. I especially looked into her
business methods, fearing there would be the greatest danger of
mistake, that there might be want of system, waste and extravagance,
but found she could teach me on these points.
In short, I saw nothing to criticise, but everything to commend. The
American people may be assured that the bounty will reach the
sufferers with the least possible cost and in the best manner, in
every respect.
And if our people could see a small fraction of the need, they would
pour more "freely from their liberal store" than ever before for any
cause.