| Whatever Luis de Velasco and the Marquis González had planned for the day, it almost certainly didn't include facing a massive British fleet. Peering down from the castle walls, the two men must have stood stunned as the largest fleet ever seen in the Caribbean entered Bahía de La Habana... under the British flag.
The year was 1792, sometime in June. Having been absent on that particular occasion, we'll fill in the details as they please us. Call it afternoon, getting on evening. English engravings from around the time suggest a somewhat overcast day. Los Habañeros might have figured it an omen.
Lord Albemarle, on mission for the English Crown, was not a man to leave details to chance. He commanded 26 man o' wars, 13 frigates and 150 transport ships, aboard which stood an army of 14,000 troops, ready to let fire 2,000 cannons at their lord's say-so.
Having studied previous failed attempts to take Habana, Lord Albemarle chose to land his troops on the quiet beach of Cojímar, barely defended by one lonesome lookout. This he did with relative ease. From Cojímar, it was a short advance up to Castillo de los Tres Reyes del Morro.
After conquering the fortress, Albemarle's men were able to shell Habana with relative impunity from across la Bahía. Later, with two months of cannon fire atop his head, Spanish Governor Juan de Prado Portocarrero surrendered his city. Habana belonged to the British.
According to one account, "British domination kept intact the civil and religious organization, and merchants and traders had months of bonanza thanks to the establishment of free trade with all British colonies, the abolition of the Royal Trading Company of Havana, and the possibility of acquiring British goods."
Of course, no single moment lasts beyond its given time. Less than a year after Lord Albemarle spoiled González and Velasco's cloudy afternoon, the British were gone. In accordance with a peace treaty signed by the two colonial powers, Habana was returned to Spain in exchange for England receiving a tidy parcel of territory for its own: Florida.
The remainder of the 18th century saw the city expand and prosper. Wealthy families constructed elaborate homes in Habana Vieja, featuring ornate façades, delicate wainscoting and intricate stained glass windows facing onto the main plazas. The Plaza de la Catedral, in particular, witnessed a vibrant transformation. El Palacio del Conde Lombillo, El Palacio del Marqués de Arcos and La Casa del Marqués de Aguas Claras stand there still... barely.
La Bahía, into which Spanish and British blood flowed not long before, returned to its turquoise blue.
So went the 19th century... and the better part of the 20th. An important period of progress in the sciences and arts, the 1800s saw the construction of the Fernando VII aqueduct, the inauguration of the first stretch of the Havana-Bejucal railway and the opening of the mighty Teatro Tacón.
Along the Prado, mansions of neoclassical design and flair sprung up. El Louvre Café, which later gave its name to the adjoining sidewalk, became the place to be and be seen. High fashion flourished. Caballeros stood when señoras approached the table. Glasses overflowed with ron and ashtrays of Carrara marble brimmed with Cohibas, fought to the nub or abandoned mid-draw.
All of this happened... more or less, give or take.
And so, when the ideological clashes of the 1950s took center stage, there was a lot of potential ruin in Cuba - Habana in particular. The island was ready for upheaval anew. All that was left was for history to choose her actors.
The modernistas debated fiercely along the El Louvre's grand colonnades and two ideas - both idiotic - clouded over the political landscape in Habana. An omen, perhaps. The people would have done well to refute them both but, as Victor Hugo once remarked, "No army can stop an idea whose time has come."
Not even a bad idea.
Thus it came to pass that the century's greatest debate, backed by dueling superpowers abroad, would again find venue on a tiny island in the Caribbean. On the one side stood the military junta of Cuban President Fulgencio Batista, backed by the United States. On the other: the revolutionary forces of the Castro Bros. and comrade Guevara - a movement with which the Soviets generally sympathized.
The former was supposed to represent "the right," the latter, "the left." Castro, for his part, was an avowed Marxist-Leninist who sought to turn all industry, all means of production, over to the glory of the state... his state. Batista, a military strongman of equally moronic sentiment, stood in Castro's way. The two fought out their differences over the course of a decade or more... the attacks at the Moncada Barracks, which culminated in Castro's imprisonment... the ensuing guerilla wars... and the eventual triumph of the former convict.
During the past 5 1/2 decades, productivity has collapsed in Cuba. The utopian myth perpetrated by the state stands in direct opposition to the observable reality on the street. The nation boasts more doctors per capita than any other in the world... but they scratch out a meager living at US$15 per month. Hospitals frequently suffer supply shortages, including those of basic necessities like medicine, water and electricity.
Everybody is employed... but nobody works. Lines stretch around the block of government-owned and -run telecommunication buildings. Internet is virtually non-existent, except in (two, that we could find) hotels, at which no local could possibly afford to stay. And once-brilliant mansions along the famous Malecón crumble gently onto the oceanfront road.
There is talk of change... of more open borders. Until last year, for example, Cuban citizens wishing to travel internationally were required to purchase a (prohibitively expensive) government visa and furnish an invitation from abroad for travel. That requirement has since softened, says the government. A Cuban passport will now only cost five times the average monthly wage. The economy makes advances at a similar rate. It seems the unyielding regime of the Castro Bros. can't perish soon enough for the long suffering Cuban people.
When great ideas come to clash, the population at large rarely escapes unscathed. A king divorces his queen... and half the land goes up in flames. One dictator has it in for another... and a continent is turned upside down. Superpower A has a beef with Superpower B... and a half-century of misery and oppression buries generations of progress.
Ideas can be dangerous things... especially very bad ones.
Until next time...
Cheers,
Joel Bowman
for Free Market Café
Photo originally posted by Javier Ignacio Acuña Ditzel on Flickr. |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Keep a civil tongue.