Dramatic Moments in American Diplomacy/Chapter Twelve
The Diplomacy of the War with Spain—The Crime of National Pride and Procrastination—The Verdict of History—The Plight of Cuba—Revolution Engineered in New York—Mutual Cruelties—American "Pirates"—Cleveland's Firm Hand—Woodford vs. Sagasta, a Triumph of Fair Play—Concessions Made by Spain—"Home Rule"—Removal of Weyler—"Autonomy"—Revocation of Reconcentration—Isabel's Despair—The Intervention of the Pope—Final Concessions and Armistice—"Remember the Maine"—An Intercepted Insult—The Recalled Minister and the Fateful Message to Congress—A Tribute to Spanish Courtesy.
I IMAGINE that the average American
would be astonished upon an impartial
examination of the diplomatic correspondence
leading up to the battle of Manila
Bay and the capture of San Juan Hill. As
far as the United States was concerned it reveals no injury done us by the Spaniards. The war sprang out of increasing demands made by President McKinley. The record shows that these were met by the Castilians in a really remarkably yielding spirit, considering their traditionally sensitive "National Honour" and unbounded pride. And as far as the war was the result of a failure of negotiation, or in the power of the Spaniard to avoid by any possible action, it turned upon a punctilio, a really absurd quibble which had little to do with the merits of the affair, and upon a few days' procrastination upon the part of the Spaniards. And even this, which we deemed a delay, amounted to violent precipitation of action to the mind of Madrid.
Before recording the details of the American Minister's hectic weeks in Madrid, it must be clearly said that there is no longer any question but that the war was a blessing to all parties concerned; and that it was in all probability the only possible solution of an international scandal. It should be classed as a great surgical operation, whereby an incurable sore was cut out of the Spanish body politic, against its will, but to its salvation. The patient, both before, during and after the operation, conducted himself toward the doctor in a manner highly to his credit.
These facts stand forth, indisputable:
That for sixty years or more the island of Cuba had been as badly misgoverned, from the Anglo-Saxon point of view, as it was possible to misgovern it. It was saddled with an atrocious economic system, a mediaeval military dictatorship operated by an autocratic and irresponsible governor, bled by excessive public taxes and private graft, and in an uproar all the time.
Even with the most honourable intentions in the world it was quite impossible for the Spaniards ever to restore what we understand by law and order.
These two facts constitute the case of the United States—and the whole case. Following the immediate discussions and causes of hostilities, the sympathies of the impartial reader will lean toward the anxious and cornered inheritors of the splendours of Isabella.
The fact that public opinion in the United States was in a fever heat cannot be given as a legitimate casus belli by a statesman, and the fulminations of senators and representatives have never in our history been a safe guide to foreign policy. If these last had been any criterion we should have invaded and annexed Cuba long ago without any other reason than that it was manifestly placed there by the Lord to be owned by us.
Before picturing the negotiations between Washington and Madrid, so abruptly finished by the famous message of the 11th of April, 1898, it is necessary to point out that it was universally recognized that any message leaving a decision to Congress amounted to a declaration of war. The views of Congress were that the insurgents were the angelic and saintly victims of an inhuman warfare—that the concentration camps were not only an outrage upon humanity, but a hideous breach of international law; that the Maine had been blown up by the Spanish Government; and that, anyway, Cuba was to be freed regardless of circumstances, and by war, no matter what anybody said.
This fact must be kept in mind. It was thoroughly understood by all hands, the efforts for a peaceful solution hinged upon preventing McKinley's giving Congress its head. And so all discussion finally centred upon whether he was or was not to send a message of this sort.
Granting that the war was of great benefit to Spain, Cuba, and the United States, as well as an indispensable step both in the development of this country as a World Power, and in the establishment of a new sense of international comity based upon justice and "the decent respect for the opinion" of mankind, as well as "National Interest," it must be admitted that, in his diplomatic action, McKinley showed none of the executive strength and control that characterized both Grant and Cleveland in handling this same problem. In fact he didn't handle it at all. He turned it over to the mob to handle—a proceeding that in many other instances in our history would have led to war.
When Cleveland left the tiller and William McKinley took charge of affairs, the situation was about as follows:
In February, 1895, revolution broke out in Cuba. It was brought on mainly by the manifest incapacity of even the most radical Spanish mind to conceive of a liberal colonial policy. To this was added a high protective American tariff on sugar, which tended to ruin the principal industry, and cause great poverty and suffering on the island. While we are posing as apostles of a new era of good will toward men and of policies of world-wide justice which will reduce wars to a minimum, it is worth while taking a little thought to the manifest hardships and ill feeling continually engendered by artificial tampering with economic laws upon arbitrary boundary lines—in which we are the worst offenders on earth.
The Revolution was financed and recruited in large measure from the United States, with headquarters at New York. Maximo Gomez was called from San Domingo to take command.
The war started in at once with the utmost ferocity on both sides. It is impossible at this date to choose between the methods of the combatants. The Cubans were the ones to begin the deliberate work of devastation. Gomez's first act was to issue an order that all plantations should stop their labours, and that whoever should attempt to grind the sugar crop would have his cane burned and his buildings demolished, and would be considered as an enemy, treated as a traitor, and be tried as such in case of his capture. Since he carried out this policy and threat to the letter, it is impossible for any one aware of the facts to weep with the insurgents over the ruin of industry and the destruction of the island.
General Weyler went to work in true Spanish fashion to clean the rebels up. This he could not do because he could not catch them. So he ordered the whole populace into concentration camps. In spite of the violent statements common at the time, the fact is that such an order is not forbidden by the recognized laws of war, nor is it an uncommon occurrence. It was practised both in the Civil War and in South Africa too. The horror of it was that it was impossible properly to feed these people—particularly since the rebels made all business a crime and the introduction of food to "towns occupied by the enemy" a cause for summary execution.
Filibustering on a grand scale started in the United States. Although most of our available coast patrol earnestly and vigorously endeavoured to stop it, the Spaniards claimed continuously and bitterly that our winking at these forays prolonged the trouble.
On the other hand the Spaniards persisted in considering as "pirates" all filibusters they caught and could not even conceive of any reason why they should not be shot on the spot. When these were American citizens, "fighting for freedom," this attitude caused the greatest fury in the United States. As a matter of fact no Americans were executed at this time, but the State Department had to make vigorous appeals several times to prevent it.
Incidents like this, and a press screaming with accounts of atrocities of "Weyler, the Butcher," together with the unquestioned anarchy and misery in the island, inflamed a Congress already in sympathy with the revolution to introduce resolutions as regularly as clockwork. In one form or another these all denounced Spain and demanded the independence of Cuba. The most violent of these Congressional broadsides was delivered by John Sherman, afterward made Secretary of State by McKinley, and was based upon a newspaper story later found to be without any foundation whatever.
Meanwhile President Cleveland had kindly and firmly kept the affair in his own hands, and reiterated the American position:
First: that there seemed to be no prospect of the revolt ever coming to a conclusion under existing conditions until the country was ruined completely.
Secondly: that the United States could not very well keep hands off this situation indefinitely. The reasons given were very frank and concise: That our pecuniary loss was enormous; that the sympathy of the people with the revolution was very great; that the governments were always at odds about Cubans naturalized in America carrying on propaganda in New York and filibustering to Cuba; that the insurrection involved the policing of an immense seacoast; that there was a growing and vehement demand for recognition and violent intervention.
Thirdly: that he offered mediation as a way out of the impasse.
"It would seem that if Spain would offer Cuba a genuine autonomy—a measure of home-rule which, while preserving the sovereignty of Spain, would satisfy all national requirements of her Spanish subjects—there should be no just reason why the pacification of the island might not be effected on that basis."
Cleveland saw what apparently McKinley could not—that the major difficulty would be with the peculiar pride of the Spaniard. He adds: "It would keep intact the possessions of Spain without touching her honour, which will be consulted rather than impugned by the adequate redress of admitted grievances."
Then just as the Cleveland administration came to a close the Queen issued a decree granting "home rule" to Cuba. It was a kind of emasculated, experimental home rule, invented by a people to whom such an idea was almost inconceivable. But it more than covered the ground of the original Cuban complaint, and was a genuine and honest effort toward emancipation.
Such was the state of affairs when an entirely new cast of characters took up the drama for the fifth act.
William McKinley succeeded Grover Cleveland, John Sherman, the veteran Olney, as Secretary of State, and General Stewart Lyndon Woodford went as minister to Spain. Very shortly afterward the Spanish Ministry underwent an even more radical transformation. The new team constituted the most liberal as well as the ablest men in the Empire—Señor Praxides Mateo Sagasta, champion of "peace at any price save loss of dignity," became president of the council, with Señor Gullon, Minister of State, and Señor Moret, Minister for Foreign Affairs.
The new game opened in an interview between Woodford and the outgoing minister, the Duque de Tetuan. "Friendly in manner," it was reported, "but positive in meaning." Sherman's proposition was laid on the table. Its kernel was that the United States had a "duty" as well as a "right" to intervene, unless Spain could settle this little affair in a "reasonable time." And in very definite language it stated that this time might be drawing to a close, and the duty become imminent. It ended with the suggestion that Spain make use of the offices of the United States in some manner or other to reach a final conclusion.
These instructions had "put it up to" the minister to get the Spainards to agree to concessions in Cuba, to prevent an American war. The record of the subsequent six months is not only of the greatest credit to Woodford, but reveals an advance in Spanish policy that is little short of miraculous, considering antecedents of a thousand years of despotic sway.
The Spaniards' answer to this preliminary broadside consisted in a volume of polite language, a futile repetition of the contention that if the United States would stop filibustering expeditions all would be well. But wonderful to relate, they took action—for them, drastic action. They recalled General Weyler, replacing him with Blanco, under instructions to alleviate the concentration curse. And the Queen, by imperial decree, extended to Cuba all the rights enjoyed by peninsular Spaniards, establishing in the island all the electoral laws of Spain, and granting autonomy.
Any fair-minded person will readily admit that this was not an unworthy attempt to meet the American position. It must be admitted at the same time that these measures, conciliatory as they were intended to be, and in fact were, failed to quell the riot. The reconcentrados could not be fed because the revolutionists would allow no work to be done or produce to be grown. And they would not hear of autonomy. Nobody seemed to want autonomy at this stage. Gomez foamed at the idea; and the loyal Spaniards in Cuba, banded together to enforce the mediaeval régime, screamed loudly against it.
Still, the Spaniards had made an effort to meet the American demand. McKinley gave them full credit for it in his message, sent to Congress in December, 1897. Said he:
"That the Government of Sagasta has entered upon a course from which recession with honour is impossible can hardly be questioned; that in the few weeks it has existed it has made earnest of its professions is undeniable. * * * It is honestly due to Spain and to our friendly relations with Spain that she should be given a reasonable chance to realize her expectations and to approve the asserted efficacy of the new order of things to which she stands irrevocably committed. She has recalled the commander whose brutal orders inflamed the American mind and shocked the civilized world. She has modified the horrible order of reconcentration and has undertaken to care for the helpless and permit those who desire to to resume the cultivation of their fields, * * *" and so on. He finished with the statement that:
"If it shall hereafter appear to be a duty imposed by our obligations to ourselves, to civilization and humanity, to intervene with force, it shall be without fault on our part and only because the necessity for such action will be so clear as to command the support and approval of the civilized world."
This is the appearance of a new and a daring doctrine. That regardless of anything that Spain, with all honesty and even unheard-of humility, might do, this country was prepared to assume the rôle of the benevolent grandfather with the slipper, and take away the dangerous toys. It gave warning that diplomacy, in the sense of a negotiation between nations, might avail nothing, and that peace might not in the least depend upon our relations with Spain or their efforts to preserve it. That this was the actual case we shall see. Sincerely in hopes that the reforms inaugurated by Sagasta might bring some measure of tranquillity, the President on the 24th of January, 1898, told the Spanish Minister, Señor Dupuy de Lome, that he had determined to send the battleship Maine to Havana as a mark of friendship—a well-recognized form of international compliment. Old General Fitzhugh Lee, Consul at Havana, wired to delay it, because of high feeling among residents, but she had sailed, and pretty soon dropped anchor in the harbour without a comment.
Then the fates began putting some action into the piece. Señor Dupuy de Lome, a faithful servant, and a courteous diplomat, wrote a letter to a friend. Probably it was the mildest personal letter he had written for a year. It was his private opinion of the President's message.
"The message has been a disillusionment to the insurgents, who expected something different; but I regard it as bad. Besides the ingrained and inevitable ill-breeding with which is repeated all that the press and public opinion in Spain have said about Weyler, it once more shows that McKinley is weak and a bidder for the admiration of the crowd, besides being a would-be politician who tries to leave a door open behind himself while keeping on good terms with the jingoes of the party."
An enterprising journalist, whose zeal certainly exceeded his propriety, intercepted and opened the letter, and it was printed broadcast over the United States on the 9th of February.
Of course, nobody stopped to reflect that even an ambassador as ultra-polite and courteous as a Spaniard probably had an opinion of his own, and that it was not extraordinary that he should have considered the President impolite as well as outrageous in dictating to Spain as if he had been its nurse and vilifying Spanish soldiers with no reference to Cuban blackguards. The whole country flamed in fury from Hatteras to the Golden Gate.
The minister telegraphed Madrid at once, saying that his position would probably be untenable and notifying the Queen to decide upon her course without reference to him in any way. Promptly, on the next day, he received his recall from the Minister of State.
This was a link in the chain. And yet it is impossible to charge Spain with the incident in any degree. The recall is the fastest on record, and reveals an anxious desire to propitiate the United States incompatible with any theory except one of ultra-pacifism.
Nevertheless, it was a link. Or rather it was another faggot to feed the flame of popular opinion upon which the President was riding. The flame shortly developed into a conflagration.
At 9:40 P. M., February 15th, without any prologue, the battleship Maine blew up and sank.
A court of inquiry established that the vessel was blown up from without—probably by a mine. Who blew it up, there was and still is no evidence. It is practically settled beyond the realms of possibility of error that it was not the Spanish Government.
The subsequent war-cry, "Remember the Maine," was a popular slogan that could hardly take into account the fact that the utmost sympathy and regret was expressed by the Queen and the Premier of Spain, and that Señor Gullon immediately promised every reparation possible if it should prove to be the fault of Spanish authorities.
These incidentals were the popular courses of war. But to the statesman they were not even hard diplomatic problems. They were merely the bellows behind the wind blowing for war, to be used for popular support in case war should be declared for other reasons. Unless, indeed, it was the pressure of this opinion that caused them to begin it.
The most tangible immediate effect was an appropriation of $50,000,000 by Congress "for the National defence and each and every purpose connected therewith."
I think I have made it clear that we had so far no grievance against Spain except her failure to bring about peace in Cuba; and that she had taken our orders as far as she was capable. At this moment she was put really into an untenable position. For as fast as she advanced with liberal propositions and the olive branch, so much the more confident did the rebels become, and so much the greater their demands. Our pressure for peace was all directed toward the Spaniards. Gomez met their messengers, undertaking to make terms, with instant death by a firing squad.
After this appropriation Sagasta recognized that he would have to take some drastic action.
Under the impression that the object of his negotiations was to keep the peace if possible; Woodford, our minister, worked overtime in Madrid. From March 17th to April 11th he drew proposal after proposal out of the Spanish Council and he never sent a dispatch but that reiterated his conviction that the Spaniard would do anything, no matter what, to prevent a rupture, short of what they considered National dishonour. On the 17th he wrote:
"Señor Sagasta, an experienced statesman, a loyal Spaniard, and a faithful friend of the Queen * * * would do anything for peace that Spain would approve and accept."
On the 18th:
"Sagasta has finally and positively declared for peace at any terms at all consistent with Spanish honour."
On the 19th he cabled:
"If you will acquaint me fully with general settlement desired, I believe Spanish Government will offer without compulsion, and upon its own motion, such terms of settlement as may be satisfactory to both nations. Large liberty as to details should be offered to Spain, but your friendship is recognized and appreciated, and I now believe it will be a pleasure to Spanish Government to propose what will probably be satisfactory to both."
Invaluable, kindly man. He was one of the many diplomats this nation has had whose native straightforward courtesy and patent honesty had given him the confidence as much of his adversaries as of his own people. And it is clear, moreover, that he could do what he said. The spirit of charity is invincible—except against cannibals, Barbary pirates, and Huns.
William Rufus Day, acting Secretary of State, replied to this optimistic cable in almost savage style. Said he:
"There remain general conditions in Cuba which cannot be endured, and which will demand action on our part unless Spain restores honourable peace. * * * April 15 is none too early date for accomplishment of these purposes. * * * It is proper that you should know that, unless events otherwise indicate, the President, having exhausted diplomatic agencies to secure peace in Cuba, will lay the whole question before Congress."
On the 24th the Spanish Cabinet submitted a plan. They agreed to an immediate armistice, provided the Cubans would do the same; and agreed to submit terms of peace to the Cuban Congress, in the meantime having granted that Congress authority to negotiate peace.
Certain it is that they were "coming across," as the phrase goes.
But Secretary Day was not to be satisfied with this. His next word on March 27th was:
"See if following can be done:
"First. Armistice until October 1. Negotiations meantime looking for peace between Spain and insurgents through friendly offices of President, United States.
"Second. Immediate revocation of reconcentrado order. * * *
"Add if possible:
"Third, If terms of peace not satisfactorily settled by October 1, President of United States to be final arbitrator between Spain and insurgents.
"If Spain agrees, President will use friendly offices to get insurgents to accept plan."
Driven by repeated cables from Washington saying that no delay could be brooked, Woodford wired home:
"Have had conference this afternoon with the President of the Council, the Minister for Foreign Affairs and Minister for Colonies. Conference adjourned until Thursday afternoon, March 31. I have sincere belief that arrangement will then be reached, honourable to Spain and satisfactory to the United States and Cuba. I beg you to withhold all action until you receive my report * * * Thursday night, March 31."
On the next day the reconcentration orders were revoked.
That afternoon at 4:30 the Spanish Cabinet agreed to the American terms, with one fatal exception. They insisted that the offer of the armistice should originate with the insurgents.
Here was a pretty thing for grown-up nations to go to war about. Woodford might well call it a punctilio. Punctilio it was. But to the Spanish mind it was everything. To make the offer, these officers believed, would be to raise a whirlwind in Spain. Rather all go down together.
But this was not all. The Pope, at this juncture, offered his services. The Spanish jumped at the chance to get out of this hole their national pride had placed them in. They agreed readily to accept any plan for the cessation of hostilities proposed by his Holiness. He might even propose that they initiate them. It was a way out.
Señor Gallon tore over to Woodford with the proposition. Woodford thought he had saved the day. He wired his government that Spain would accept Pope's suggestion for an armistice, asking only that the United States remove their fleet from Cuban waters."
Here we have the trouble again, if it be trouble. The Spaniard wished to have some faint sign of independence—some condition exacted for the satisfaction of an old, proud and noble race.
Day was inexorable. His answer to this proposal said: "The disposition of our fleet must be left to us. An armistice to be effective must be immediately proffered and accepted by insurgents. * * * The President cannot hold his message longer than Tuesday."
Woodford, bent upon his own problem of reaching a satisfactory conclusion with Spain, finally reached it. The Queen yielded completely, with great emotion. The paper she was prepared to sign was a passionate renunciation. The Minister's dispatch to President McKinley read:
"Should the Queen proclaim the following before 12 o'clock noon on Wednesday, April 6th, will you sustain the Queen, and can you prevent hostile action by Congress?
"'At the request of the Holy Father, in this passion week, and in the name of Christ, I proclaim immediate and unconditional suspension of hostilities in the Island of Cuba.
"'This suspension to become immediately effective so soon as accepted by the insurgents in that island, and to continue for the space of six months, to the 5th of October, 1898.
"'I do this to give time for passion to cease, and in the sincere hope and belief that during this suspension permanent and honourable peace may be obtained between the insular government of Cuba and those of my subjects in that island who are now in rebellion against the authority of Spain.
"'I pray the blessing of Heaven upon this truce of God, which I now declare in His name and with the sanction of the Holy Father of all Christendom'."
Woodford continued his plea in these words:
"Please read this in the light of my previous telegrams and letters. I believe this means peace, which the sober judgment of our people will approve long before next November, and which must be approved at the bar of final history. * * * I will show your reply to the Queen in person, and I believe that you will approve this last conscientious offer for peace."
And on the 9th of August, even in the face of a discouraging reply, the Spaniards ordered General Blanco to proclaim the armistice.
Going over this record it has come home to me with great force that the American people have never given Spain the credit for this supreme effort; and that the charity, forbearance and tolerant good will which have sometimes been manifest with us almost to a fault, were totally lacking, and that Woodford was justified in the conclusions of his final telegram:
"* * * I believe that you will get final settlement before August 1 on one of the following bases: Either such autonomy as the insurgents may agree to accept, or recognition by Spain of the independence of the island, or cession of the island to the United States. I hope that nothing will be done to humiliate Spain."
He said that he was satisfied that the government at Madrid was going, and was loyally ready to go, as fast and as far as it could.
And this the whole record abundantly confirms. Step by step in this one-sided diplomatic encounter the Spaniards had yielded every demand, until now they had given all.
Nevertheless, on the 11th of April, McKinley sent the message to Congress. The only mention in this war document of the final yielding of the Queen was a terse statement, without comment, that he had heard General Blanco had been ordered to suspend hostilities.
But, as everyone knew, the message was the casting of the die for war.
The purpose of this review is not to belittle the effects of the Spanish War—its benefits are manifest—nor even to conclude that McKinley was wrong in determining once and for all to end the Cuban cancer by a clean sweep, but, in justice to the Spaniards, to point out that the war was the result of this determination, and was launched with this purpose quite regardless of diplomacy so ably conducted by Woodford, and in the face of the most extraordinary efforts and concessions on the part of the Queen. Diplomacy had nothing to do with the matter. The Spaniard did not want to fight, had no intention of fighting, and met our negotiations much more than half way, and a great deal further than any impartial and sympathetic observer would have supposed possible. The only grievance we had against them at all was inherent, and not subject to change—a mind given to procrastination and delay, a belief in their own institutions, and a sensitive code of national honour. To say that we considered this a cause for war is of course ridiculous.
The answer is that sixty years of riot in Cuba was all we could stand, and that we purposed to end it. And nothing the Spaniard or our minister could do or say had any effect upon the resolution. So it was. And this was probably correct. But with it let us give the Spaniard all credit. Two years of diplomatic negotiations were all on his side.