It is twenty-eight years ago to-day that a rebel sol dier who says "I am a Southerner, I loved the South and dared for her To fight from Lookout to the sea stood before the ranks of the Grand Army and spoke these words: "I stand and say that you were right; I shout for joy to see the stars All on our common shield once more." This was more than a quarter of a century ago and all this time the great loyal South has patiently and unflinchingly accepted war's terrible results. It is not strange, then, that she shows her loyalty to-day. The "Solid South," the bugaboo of politicians, the cloak of Northern venality, has passed away forever. The warm response to American courage, in whatever section or party, in whatever trade or profession, shows that with all our surface divisions, we of America are one in heart. The impartial bitterness of Spanish hatred directed toward all classes and conditions of Anglo-Saxons alike emphasizes the real unity of race and nation. There are some who justify war for war's sake. Blood-letting "relieves the pressure on the boundaries." It whets courage. It keeps the ape and tiger alive in men. All this is detestable. To waste good blood is pure murder, if nothing is gained by it. To let blood for blood's sake is bad in politics as it is in medicine. War is killing, brutal, barbarous killing, and its direct effects are mostly evil. The glory of war turns our attention from civic affairs. Neglect invites corruption. Noble and necessary as was our Civil War, we have not yet recovered from its degrading influences. Too often the courage of brave men is an excuse for the depredations of venal politicians. The glorious banner of freedom becomes the cover for the sutler's tent, The test of civilization is the substitution of law for war; statutes for brute strength. No doubt diplomacy, as one of our Senators has said, is mostly "a pack of lies," and arbitration, as we have known it, is compulsory and arbitrary compromise. But in the long run truth will out, even in diplomacy. The nations who suffer through clumsy and blundering tribunals of arbitration will learn from this experience. They will find means, at last, to secure justice as well as peace. As private war gave way to security under national law, so must public war give way to the law of civilization. I hear men say to-day that war is necessary to the Republic because we need new heroes for our worship. The old heroes are getting stale. Those of the Revolution are half mythical. Washington and Greene were never actually alive in real flesh and blood. Even Grant and Sherman, Lee and Jackson, Thomas and Farragut are names only to most of us. Our fathers knew them, but their's are not names to conjure with to-day. The name of Dewey fills a popular want. The heroes of the newspaper in times of peace are mere tinsel heroes. Here is one with flesh and blood in him, a man of nerve and courage and success. All this is true, but our heroes were with us already. In times of peace they were ready for heroism. The real hero is the man who does his duty. It does not matter whether his name be on the headlines of the newspapers or not. His greatness is not enhanced when a street or a trotting horse is named for him. It is the business of the Republic to make a nation of heroes. The making of brave soldiers is only a part of the work of making men. The glare of battle shows men in false perspective. To one who stands in its light we give the glory of a thousand. But we may applaud with the rest as the great captains pass before us. They have earned their renown, yet when 66 the tumult and the shouting dies," still the crisis remains. What effect must the war have on us? Our line of action seems a narrow one. Our policy has been fully declared. Our armies invade Cuba to put an end to disorder, brutality and murderous wrong. In the words of the resolution of Congress: "The abhorrent conditions which have existed for more than three years in the island of Cuba, so near our own borders, have shocked the moral sense of the people of the United States, have been a disgrace to Christian civilization, and cannot longer be endured." And in recording the necessity which forces us to act we disclaim all selfish intentions. Thus Congress used these words which are already part of the record of history and which we may not forget: "The United States hereby disclaims any disposition or intention to exercise sovereignty, jurisdiction or control over said islands except for the pacification thereof, and asserts its determination when that is accomplished to leave the government and control of the island to its people." The wrongs we would avenge are not new to Spain. By such cruelties she has always held her possessions. By such means she has lost most of them. Flanders, Mexico, Peru, Venezuela, Chili, Cuba, all tell the same story. Spain still belongs to the seventeenth century. From the seventeenth century Cuba has escaped. To her we shall bring order and relief. Her shackles once broken, then we shall stay our hand. To Cuba Libre, independent and free, we will leave the choice of her own future. But this is easier said than done. Cuba Libre has no heart or will to choose. Her present nominal government is not that of a republic. It is a political oligarchy, which has its seat not in Havana, but in New York. Cuba is helpless now. As a republic she will be helpless still. Spanish blood and Spanish training illy prepare a land for freedom. Freedom such as we know it has never yet been won by people of Latin blood. The freedom of Spanish America is for the most part military despotism. It is said of the government of Russia that it is "despotism tempered by assassination." That of most of our sister republics is assassination tempered by despotism, Mexico, the best of them, is not a republic; it is a despotism, the splendid tyranny of a man strong and wise, who knows Mexico and how to govern her, a humane and beneficent tyrant. There are many noble men in Cuba, men of education and character, with the culture and bearing of gentlemen. Some of these I know, and one I have been proud to call my friend, Felipe Poey, during fifty years professor in the University of Havana. Most good men in Cuba hope for the success of the insurgents, but they have not much confidence in Cuban democracy. The common run of the Cuban population is of a very different class. "The Cuban soldiers at Tampa," says John R. Rathom, "are very small, excitable, erratic, physically unfit. They go about the camps brandishing their machetes and telling our infantrymen who tower above them like giants, how they are going to cut the Spaniards to pieces. Their whole spirit is one of frothy boasting." There are three things inseparable from the life of the Cuban people to-day, the cigarette, the lottery ticket, and the machete. These stand for vice, superstition and revenge. Above these the thoughts of the common man in Cuba seldom rise. Most of the people cannot read, and those who can read largely the literature of vice. From my own visit to Havana, two keen recollections remain. In the early morning the markets are filled by a long procession of loaded burros who came down from the mountain side. These bring everything that is eatable, with the rest live pigs and sheep. Pigs and sheep alike are tied in pairs and hung saddle-wise, head downward, from the backs of the donkeys. From two until four in the morning the long procession comes in, the pigs lustily squealing, the sheep helpless and dumb. But nobody cares for an animal's pain. There is no society for prevention of cruelty to animals in Cuba. There are not many who could understand even the purpose of such a society. In Havana, bull-fights follow the church services, not fights but slaughter. A horse lame and blind is ripped up by an infuriated bull, who in turn is done to death by the stab of a skillful butcher. At Christmas time all interest centers in the lottery. Everybody buys lottery tickets. Charms, fortune-tellers, astrology and all the machinery of superstition are brought into play to select the lucky numbers. How many days old am I? How many days old is my Dolores? How many days old was I on my lucky day when I drew the prize last year? How can I find my lucky number? These matters are talked of everywhere on the streets, in the church, in the wine rooms, in the theatres. One hears the parrots on their posts at the gate discussing the very same questions. The birds rattle off the names and numbers as glibly as their masters, and with as high a conception of the possibilities of life. It seems probable that most of the oppressed people, crowded from their homes by Weyler's armies, will be dead before we come to their relief. In starving out Havana we shall doubtless starve them first. Those who survive may become our bitterest enemies before the year is out. For these people prefer the indolence of Spanish rule with all its brutalities to the bustling ways of the Anglo-Saxon. Many of them would take their chances of being starved or butchered rather than to build roads, wash their faces and clean up their towns. To suppress the lottery and the cock-fight would be to rob them of most that makes life worth living. The Puritan Sabbath and the self-control it typifies in their minds would be worse than the flames of Purgatory. Whether as a free nation under our protection or whether governed by our martial law, it will be no easy task to hold the peace in Cuba Libre. The down-trodden Cuban and the Spanish oppressor are the same in blood, the same in method. |