ment, was responsible for this inhuman and savage measure. The Queen Regent of Spain, with all her intelligence and good qualities, set her hand and seal to this infamous edict. These Cubans, now called "reconcentrados," were perishing by thousands, and the voice of their blood cried out from the ground unto the civilized world.

Causes of the War

It was now that our own people began to open their ears to this wailing cry from the neighboring island. Their sympathy was expressed in private and through public meetings called for the purpose, and eventually by the adoption of resolutions in Congress. But sympathy and resolutions could do nothing for the dying Cubans. There must be action. During the year 1896 there was a growing feeling on all sides that it was our solemn duty to send an army to the rescue of down-trodden Cuba, regardless of our friendly relations with Spain. President Cleveland hesitated. His responsibility was great. He was not oblivious to the demands of his countrymen nor to the cry of

distress from the unhappy island; but his position led him to realize as no one else could that it is no light thing to disturb our peaceful relations with a great European nation- and he still hesitated. When, in the spring of 1897, Mr. McKinley succeeded to the presidency, his attitude toward the great question was very similar to that of his predecessor, and so it continued for more than a year.

Meantime, the American people were further exasperated by the seizure and imprisonment by the Spanish authorities of American citizens in Cuba. These, however, were released on the demand of President McKinley. When it was known that there were many Americans among the starving "reconcentrados," Congress voted $50,000 by which to send them provisions. This was promptly carried out, and many of the Cubans, as well as Americans, were thereby saved from starvation.

In January, 1898, it was decided to send a battleship to Cuban waters to protect American interests, and the Maine, commanded by Captain Sigsbee, was selected for the purpose. The Maine was a stanch and beautiful armored

vessel of seven thousand tons burden, a battleship of the second class. On the night of the 15th of February, the crew was sleeping in fancied security, when suddenly there arose from the surface of the water a vast column of fire commingled with beams and rigging and the bodies of men, and accompanied by a sound surpassing the roar of artillery. The Maine had been blown to fragments, and 266 of her brave seamen had perished in the explosion. When, on the following morning, the news of the explosion was flashed across the country, the people were stunned and shocked, and the first thought was that it had been caused by Spanish treach、 ery. Captain Sigsbee, who was one of the few to escape without injury, counselled that the people suspend judgment until the cause of the calamity be thoroughly investigated. A board of naval officers was appointed to make an exhaustive examination of the wreck, and discover, if possible, what had caused the explosion. For forty days they labored, and the American people waited in silence for the verdict. But the silence was ominous of a gathering storm, and when the board at length announced

that the Maine had been destroyed by a submarine mine, there was an outburst of wrath from one end of the land to the other.

The treacherous destruction of the Maine hastened the coming of war, but did not cause it. Let every American rejoice that this was not made the chief causus belli. Because, first,

it could not be proved absolutely who caused the explosion, or that any one wilfully caused it. No one could doubt that that deed had been wilfully committed, but absolute proof was wanting. And again, the Spanish Government and people as a whole could not have been guilty; but even if they were, would it have been wise to wage war on that account? No amount of bloodshed would bring back our dead sailors. Such a war would be a war of revenge, and that is the ignoblest of motives. But one excuse could be found for such a war, and that is, it would teach Spain and other nations that our ships and rights must be respected. But that would scarcely be necessary, as the world already knows that we are able to take care of ourselves. If, therefore, the destruction of the Maine alone had been the

subject in dispute with Spain, it is probable that a demand on our part for suitable reparation, if properly heeded, would have ended the matter, as in the case of the Virginius.

But the old question remained unsettled. The Spanish army, unable to conquer the rebellion, continued its ruthless policy of starving the peaceful inhabitants. The people of the United States could endure it no longer. The President, still hesitating, was at last forced by public opinion to take the final step. On April the 11th he sent a message to Congress in which, after a careful review of the Cuban question, we find these words, "In the name of humanity, in the name of civilization, in behalf of endangered American interests, . . . the war in Cuba must stop." The message also stated that diplomacy had been exhausted, and the matter was turned over to Congress. This could mean war and nothing else, for Congress has no diplomatic relations; its only weapon in dealing with foreign nations is the war power.1 This message was followed on the 19th by a congressional resolution declaring that the people of Cuba,

1" The War with Spain," Lodge, p. 36.