Due South

In Short

This book serves as a detailed atmospheric record of a nineteenth-century voyage to the Bahamas and Cuba. Blending travel notes with historical reflection, it documents the island's lush landscape, unique flora, and the daily habits of its people alongside a harsh critique of the Spanish colonial government. It endures as a primary source for the social and political climate of the Caribbean in the 1880s, preserving a moment in history where the promise of natural abundance collided with the deep-rooted corruption of an fading empire.

The Story

The narrative begins with a departure for the tropics, casting the reader immediately into the humid, vibrant world of the Bahamas. The author explores the capital of Nassau, contrasting its "magic fertility"—evidenced by the towering ceiba trees and marine gardens—with the presence of blockade runners and the lingering, often grim, history of early buccaneers. From these islands, the voyage shifts toward the primary focus: Cuba.

Upon arriving at the ancient city of Santiago, the author encounters a striking sensory shift. The air is thick with the scent of tropical life, but the city itself is marked by neglect, described as a place where decay and yellow fever remain constant companions. The prose moves through the island’s cities, particularly the capital, Havana. Here, the author examines the stark contrasts of the society: the grace of the local architecture and the refinement of the ladies, whose delicate presence is juxtaposed against the crude, noisy environment of a city filled with clamoring bells, game-cocks, and gambling lotteries.

As the journey continues into the interior, the focus shifts to the land’s incredible agricultural output, specifically the banana and the silk-cotton tree. However, this natural splendor is consistently shadowed by the "dark side" of the island. The author provides historical context for Cuba’s turbulent relationship with its Spanish rulers, detailing the failed revolutions of figures like General Narciso Lopez and the long, bloody conflict led by Carlos Manuel de Cespedes.

The narrative reaches a sobering peak when the author witnesses the grim reality of the slave trade. A detailed account describes a slaver running into a hidden bay to offload a cargo of emaciated, shackled human beings. This sight serves as the ultimate indictment of the political system. The author concludes that while the island is geographically an "Eden," it is morally and politically a land cast back into the "dark ages." The book closes by contrasting Cuba’s proximity to the democratic ideals of the United States with the reality of its own despotic government, where free expression is stifled and the population is taxed into poverty for the benefit of a distant, indifferent power.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The journey starts with a departure from the northern climate, leading toward the tropical warmth of the Bahamas. The author provides a vivid tour of the flora, focusing on the massive ceiba trees and the peculiar growth of the black mangrove.

Arrival in Santiago The narrative transitions to the Cuban coast, where the author describes the Moorish influence on city architecture and the squalor of streets teeming with neglected children. A sharp critique of the city’s lack of intellectual culture, such as the absence of bookstores, establishes the author’s perspective on the state of local society.

Cultural observations The author explores the daily life of the populace, noting the strange ubiquity of lottery vendors and the peculiar, loud morning routines of the city’s many bells. Attention is given to the elite social clubs, such as the Casino of Havana, which serve as the hub for the island’s official class.

Historical context The text pivots to the island’s revolutionary past, outlining the failed attempts to overthrow Spanish rule from the 1820s through the 1870s. The author focuses on the brutal cost of the Ten Years' War, noting the staggering death toll among Spanish soldiers sent to maintain control.

A glimpse of the slave trade The author witnesses the arrival of a slave ship in a secret harbor, describing the horrific physical state of the captives. This encounter serves as the emotional anchor for the book’s argument against the moral decay of the colonial system.

Final assessment The book concludes with a systematic comparison between the natural beauty of the Caribbean and the political misery of the inhabitants. It frames Cuba as a place of starless political darkness, suffering under an extractive, tyrannical regime.

The People

The characters in this account are defined by their social roles and their relationship to the island’s governing systems. The author serves as the observant, critical outsider, whose primary goal is to reconcile the island’s beauty with its systemic corruption.

Don Herero appears as a local acquaintance who provides insight into the island’s mechanics, acting as a guide who is nevertheless comfortable with the brutal realities of the slave trade. Captain Marti, an ex-smuggler, emerges as a figure of shrewd pragmatism; he barters his illicit knowledge to the Governor-General, Tacon, not for money, but for a monopoly on the fishing trade, highlighting the pervasive venality of the colonial administration. The Governor-General himself represents the detached, absolute power of Spain, while the "native Cubans" are portrayed as a people of lost potential, struggling under a "Spanish yoke." The laborers—both the Chinese coolies and the African slaves—are depicted with a mixture of sympathy and clinical observation, their lives and superstitions serving to illuminate the inhumanity of their masters.

In Its Own Voice

The many-colored, one-story houses of Santiago are Moorish in architecture, ranged in narrow streets, which cross each other at right angles with considerable regularity, but with roadways in an almost impassable condition, lined with sidewalks of ten or fifteen inches in width.

The author describes the physical state of the city upon first arrival.

No matter where one may be, in town or country, in the east or west end of the island, Santiago or Havana, the lottery-ticket vender is there.

The author notes the prevalence of gambling as a central feature of public life.

To go hence to Cuba is not merely to pass over a few degrees of latitude,--it is to take a step from the nineteenth century back into the dark ages.

The author summarizes the stark political contrast between Cuba and the democratic world.

What It's Really About

At its heart, the book is a study of the conflict between environment and governance. The author argues that a land of immense natural potential is being actively destroyed by a corrupt, extractive, and archaic political system. The fundamental question beneath the travelogue is whether a people can thrive when their environment encourages beauty and ease but their government mandates servitude and silence. It is an exploration of the "dark side" of colonial life, where the proximity to liberty—symbolized by the author's own perspective as an American—makes the reality of despotism even more glaring. The book serves as a moral indictment of the Spanish colonial model, viewing it as an obstacle to the natural, evolutionary progress of the island's inhabitants.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in Caribbean history or the evolution of travel literature will find this book particularly rewarding. It provides an unvarnished, sensory-rich account of a region that was, at the time of writing, on the verge of monumental political change. The prose is warm and descriptive, especially regarding the island’s botany and the daily rhythms of nineteenth-century life, making the reader feel as if they are walking through the streets of Havana alongside the author.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author’s period-specific attitudes. The text contains colonial perspectives and generalizations about various ethnic groups and the institution of slavery that reflect the prejudices of the late 1800s. While the author expresses horror at the treatment of slaves, the commentary remains rooted in the paternalistic tone common to the era. The book’s length and focus on local politics may be challenging for those seeking a light narrative, as it is deeply concerned with the nuances of governance and the details of historical revolts. Nevertheless, for those interested in the historical roots of Cuban society, the book offers a haunting and detailed window into a "tropical Eden" that was simultaneously a site of profound human suffering. What stays with the reader is the jarring contrast between the vibrant, living landscape and the stale, suffocating air of political corruption.