We must remember that down to this time the world at large had been profoundly ignorant of Cuba, save in the most general and external manner. Spain, as we have already indicated in these pages, had long pursued a persistent policy of secrecy and isolation. Cuba was not allowed to know much of the outside world, and the outside world was not allowed to know much of Cuba. A strict censorship was maintained over information both entering and leaving the island. Marked inhospitality was shown to travelers and visitors to discourage them from penetrating the island or acquainting themselves with the real condition of its affairs. Practically Cuba remained, so far as its social, economic and political conditions were concerned, a _terra incognita_. The world knew almost nothing of its natural wealth and its inestimable resources, its potentialities of greatness. Now, in the baleful light of a great tragedy, the island was suddenly thrust forward into the world's most intense publicity. From being a minor colonial possession of a decadent power, it was transformed into one of the foremost international issues. The eyes of two continents were fixed upon it, while the hands of those continents involuntarily reached for sword hilts in preparation for a decisive conflict which might shake the foundations of the civilized world. Let us consider first the interests and sentiments of Spain at this great crisis in her affairs. Hitherto she had regarded Cuba as a helpless province, politically negligible, although economically of immense value as the "milch cow of the Peninsula." The several insurrections which had occurred had indeed been annoying, and, at times, costly, but they had been suppressed with little difficulty, and there had never been a thought of their really menacing Spain's sovereignty over the island. Nor had there been any fear of losing the island through alien aggression or intervention. Spain's title to Cuba had been repeatedly underwritten by the United States of America, at the hands of John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay and John Forsyth; as we have hitherto seen. For a full generation Spain had confidently depended upon both the purpose and the power of the United States to protect her in her ownership of Cuba. But now came a revolt which in itself was immeasurably more formidable than all the slave insurrections put together, and which was, most ominous of all, operated from the United States, with the obvious sympathy, if not with the actual aid, of the people of that country. This powerful protector of Spain in Cuba was assuming the character of a possible conqueror. The troubles of Cuba were, therefore, no longer merely local, nor even national; they had risen to international proportions. They menaced not only the domestic tranquillity of Spain, but also her international relations with that power from which, of all in the world, she had cause most to fear.