The Story of Cuba: Her Struggles for Liberty; the cause, crisis and destiny of the Pearl of the Antilles by Murat Halstead



The Story of Cuba: her struggles for liberty; the cause, crisis and destiny of the Pearl of the Antilles was written by Murat Halstead (September 2, 1829 – July 2, 1908) and published in 1896 and 1898. Murat was an American newspaper editor and magazine writer, as well as a war correspondent for three wars including the Spanish-American War.  Halstead writes about Cuba's history and his own experiences and observations in Cuba during the1850's and throughout Cuba's first and second wars of independence against Spain including the Ten Years' War (1868-1878) including a detailed account of the Virginius Affair (also known as the "Spanish Butchery"): a conflict that occurred between between the U.S., the United Kingdom, and Spain (then in control of Cuba)  during the years 1873 and 1875. "Virginius was a fast American ship hired by Cuban insurrectionists to land men and munitions in Cuba to attack the Spanish regime there. It was captured by the Spanish, who wanted to try the men onboard (many of whom were American and British citizens) as pirates and execute them. The Spanish executed 53 of the men but stopped when the British government intervened (Wikipedia)."

Many of Halstead's books are available for free download on Google Books including The Story of Cuba (embedded below).  This work is regarded by scholars as culturally important and made widely available and reproduced in its original published form.  



This poem written by another author is featured at the end of Chapter 1 on pages 50-59 of Halstead's book.  

LIFE OF CAPTAIN JOSEPH FRY, THE CUBAN MARTYR 
BY JEANIE MORT WALKER

On Santiago's placid bay
The town of Santiago lay;
And in her walls a deed was done
The foulest e'er the sun shone on.
O Cuba ! rarest, brightest gem
That decks Atlantic's diadem!
O star of constellation bright
That beams upon our ravished sight!
When yet the earth was fresh and young,
And stars their matins scarce had sung,
And still the heavenly echo rung,
With lavish hand then nature flung
A shower from her richest store
Which on her breast and brow she wore
Of gems that ransomed kings of yore,
Which fell beside the western shore
Of green Atlantic's swelling flood,
And there began to grow and bud,
Till soon was seen a group of isles
Which wear their mother Nature's smiles;
Cherished and blest beyond the rest
Of those who claim the mother's breast!
As parents still love most the face
Where their own features they may trace,
Of this fair islet galaxy,
Which studs the fairy summer sea,
Most grand of all , my theme is seen
Lo ! Cuba - great Antilles ' queen.
Here zephyrs whisper through the palms,
With odorous breath of spice and balms;
The orange, rich in golden hue,
Hangs ripe and tempting to the view;
The bulbul, from his fragrant nest
Upon the green Acacia's crest,
With quivering wing and swelling throat,
Pours forth his rippling, pearly note;
And as he calls his absent mate
From 'mid the stately feathery date,
He weaves , with silvery voice and strong,
For her a wreath of gems of song.
Its massive elephantine leaves
The staid banana here upheaves;
And far above the garden wall
Adobe - built, and stout and tall
Its verdant banners wave on high,
In rythmic bend to zephyr's sigh;
While , from the distance -softened height,
With vines and cocoa plumes bedight,
The mellow tinklings faintly sound,
As though in light and fragrance drowned .
The train , with bells and trappings gay,
Toils up the steep and devious way;
While sauntering idly in the rear,
Lags slowly the swathy muleteer.
The warm , voluptuous tropic day,
Which knows no fall nor year's decay,
With sense- intoxicating power
Bids all enjoy the golden hour,
Unchecked by thoughts of future woe,
Of blighting blast, or field of snow;
For here the summer knows no death,
The gentle spring no dying breath;
No early grave ingulfs the bloom
Nor hides their sweetness in the tomb.
Like fair twin souls, from sin set free,
And radiant in eternity,
The favored children of the year
All live and reign immortal here.
Here find they what vain mortals seek,
And that of which the poets speak
A heaven on earth; ' tis here it lies,
For them a mundane Paradise.
Amid the scene depicted here,
And mirrored in the waters clear
Of Santiago's placid bay,
The town of Santiago lay. 
 
A prisoner from his grated cell
Looked out upon the briny swell,
And in his breast an echo found
For ocean's heaving, sobbing sound.
And as he watched the dying day,
And caught the sun's expiring ray
He sat and gazed with yearning eye
Upon the soft cerulean sky.
He saw Night draw her curtains dark
O’er sleeping sea and anchored bark.
The eyes of heaven - the gleaming stars
In pity watched him through the bars.
He looked out on the glorious night
And thought on Him - supremely bright
The Architect of skill divine
Who did the starry dome design,
Which roofs this balmy southern night
Replete with incense and delight -
Most grand that he has since his birth
Beheld , and ' tis his last on earth!
But in this solemn, dying hour,
He fears not death nor human power;
He looks his fate full in the face,
Supported by his Savior's grace.
Yet still his brave heart fondly turns
To where his hearthstone fire burns,
And where are gathered those for whom
He'd laugh at danger scorn the tomb.
He thinks of her his bosom's wife
And of his children , more than life;
Regrets, for this alone, his end,
That it with pain their hearts should rend:
And now, with heart still fond and true
He writes his sad , his last adieu . 
  
The night is o'er , the morning breaks,
But not a heart among them quakes.
A martyr band, and he their chief,
They stand unmoved by fear or grief.
At sharp command the column starts,
And on they move , those patriot hearts,
With steady step, unblenching eye;
Thus nobly move they on to die.
And as they pass the Consulate
Which marks Columbia's flag and State
Though powerless to save him now,
He greets it with a loyal bow.
And now they reach a massive wall
Where lies imbedded many a ball;
For other victims on this spot
Have died beneath the murderous shot.
At the wall's base, a ditch their lies,
Where drops the doomed one as he dies;
And here the hapless victims halt,
And kneel beside the waiting vault;
The guard steps back - a breathless pause-
A deadly aim each soldier draws.
The signal comes- a flash — a roar
And Freedom's sons lie red with gore!
As Rachel , lone and childless left,
And of her own by death bereft,
Wept sore, and comfort still refused,
Columbia ! mourn thy flag abused,
Thy children bound by foreign chain,
And by the ruthless alien slain.
O, where those sacred ashes lie,
Weep o'er the grave of noble Fry!
No more from out his grated cell,
He gazes at the briny swell;
His children, wife, and native shore
Shall see his loving face no more.
His voice is now forever hushed,
Quenched by the stream of life that gushed
From out his body, wounded sore.
As Rachel, lone and childless left,
And of her own by death bereft,
Wept sore, and comfort still refused,
Columbia! mourn thy flag abused,
Thy children bound by foreign chain,
And by the ruthless alien slain.
O, where those sacred ashes lie,
Weep o'er the grave of noble Fry!
No more from out his grated cell,
He gazes at the briny swell;
His children, wife , and native shore
Shall see his loving face no more .
His voice is now forever hushed,
Quenched by the stream of life that gushed
From out his body, wounded sore,
But painless now forevermore.
Shall butchers' scenes like these act still?
Insult our flag, our brethren kill?
From widows, mothers, stricken homes,
From rural plains, from city domes,
From friendless orphans' severed ties,
From graves where buried honor lies,
From north to south, from east to west,
One answer comes--one sole behest:
The answer will be verified
When Freedom's banner, hailed with pride,
Shall o'er the beauteous island queen
Where now red murder's flag is seen
And o'er bold Fry's forsaken grave,
Forever in sad triumph wave. 
But painless now forevermore.

Shall butchers' scenes like these act still?
Insult our flag, our brethren kill?
From widows, mothers, stricken homes,
From rural plains, from city domes,
From friendless orphans' severed ties,
From graves where buried honor lies,
From north to south, from east to west,
One answer comes--one sole behest:
The answer will be verified
When Freedom's banner, hailed with pride,
Shall o'er the beauteous island queen
Where now red murder's flag is seen
And o'er bold Fry's forsaken grave,
Forever in sad triumph wave.

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