Throughout the Southern States, there are still to be found remnants
of the old time Africans, who were stolen from their native land and
sold in the Savannah, Mobile, and New Orleans markets, in defiance of
all law. The last-named city, however, and its vicinity, had a larger
portion of these people than any other section. New Orleans was their
centre, and where their meetings were not uninteresting.
Congo Square takes its name, as is well known, from the Congo negroes
who used to perform their dance on its sward every Sunday. They were
a curious people, and brought over with them this remnant of their
African jungles. In Louisiana there were six different tribes of
negroes, named after the section of the country from which they came,
and their representatives could be seen on the square, their teeth
filed, and their cheeks still bearing tattoo marks. The majority of
our city negroes came from the Kraels, a numerous tribe who dwell in
stockades. We had here the Minahs, a proud, dignified, warlike race;
the Congos, a treacherous, shrewd, relentless people; the Mandringas, a
branch of the Congos; the Gangas, named after the river of that name,
from which they had been taken; the Hiboas, called by the missionaries
the “Owls,” a sullen, intractable tribe, and the Foulas, the highest
type of the African, with but few representatives here.
These were the people that one would meet on the square many years
ago. It was a gala occasion, these Sundays in those years, and not
less than two or three thousand people would congregate there to see
the dusky dancers. A low fence enclosed the square, and on each street
there was a little gate and turnstile. There were no trees then,
and the ground was worn bare by the feet of the people. About three
o’clock the negroes began to gather, each nation taking their places
in different parts of the square. The Minahs would not dance near the
Congos, nor the Mandringas near the Gangas. Presently the music would
strike up, and the parties would prepare for the sport. Each set had
its own orchestra. The instruments were a peculiar kind of banjo, made
of a Louisiana gourd, several drums made of a gum stump dug out, with
a sheepskin head, and beaten with the fingers, and two jaw-bones of a
horse, which when shaken would rattle the loose teeth, keeping time
with the drums. About eight negroes, four male and four female, would
make a set, and generally they were but scantily clad.
It took some little time before the tapping of the drums would arouse
the dull and sluggish dancers, but when the point of excitement came,
nothing can faithfully portray the wild and frenzied motions they go
through. Backward and forward, this way and that, now together and
now apart, every motion intended to convey the most sensual ideas. As
the dance progressed, the drums were thrummed faster, the contortions
became more grotesque, until sometimes, in frenzy, the women and men
would fall fainting to the ground. All this was going on with a dense
crowd looking on, and with a hot sun pouring its torrid rays on the
infatuated actors of this curious ballet. After one set had become
fatigued, they would drop out to be replaced by others, and then stroll
off to the groups of some other tribe in a different portion of the
square. Then it was that trouble would commence, and a regular set-to
with short sticks followed, between the men, and broken heads ended the
day’s entertainment.
On the sidewalks, around the square, the old negresses, with their
spruce-beer and peanuts, cocoanuts and pop-corn, did a thriving
trade, and now and then, beneath petticoats, bottles of tafia, a
kind of Louisiana rum, peeped out, of which the _gendarmes_ were
oblivious. When the sun went down, a stream of people poured out of the
turn-stiles, and the _gendarmes_, walking through the square, would
order the dispersion of the negroes, and by gun-fire, at nine o’clock,
the place was well-nigh deserted. These dances were kept up until
within the memory of men still living, and many who believe in them,
and who would gladly revive them, may be found in every State in the
Union.
The early traditions, brought down through the imported Africans, have
done much to keep alive the belief that the devil is a personal being,
with hoofs, horns, and having powers equal with God. These ideas give
influence to the conjurer, goopher doctor, and fortune-teller.
While visiting one of the upper parishes, not long since, I was
stopping with a gentleman who was accustomed to make weekly visits to
a neighboring cemetery, sitting for hours amongst the graves, at which
occurrence the wife felt very sad.
I inquired of her the object of her husband’s strange freak.
“Oh!” said she, “he’s influenced out there by angels.”
“Has he gone to the cemetery now?” I asked.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“I think I can cure him of it, if you will promise to keep the whole
thing a secret.”
“I will,” was the reply.
“Let me have a sheet, and unloose your dog, and I will put the cure in
motion,” I said. Rolla, the big Newfoundland dog, was unfastened, the
sheet was well fitted around his neck, tightly sewed, and the pet told
to go hunt his master.
Taking the trail, the dog at once made for the cemetery. Screams of
“Help, help! God save me!” coming from the direction of the tombs,
aroused the neighborhood. The cries of the man frightened the dog, and
he returned home in haste; the sheet, half torn, was removed, and Rolla
again fastened in his house.
Very soon Mr. Martin was led in by two friends, who picked him up from
the sidewalk, with his face considerably bruised. His story was, that
“The devil had chased him out of the cemetery, tripped him up on the
sidewalk, and hence the flow of blood from the wound on his face.”
The above is a fair index to most of the ghost stories.