Ballantyne Press
BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO.
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
[Illustration:
A MAP OF
HAYTI
1884]
HAYTI
OR
THE BLACK REPUBLIC.
BY
SIR SPENSER ST. JOHN, K.C.M.G.
FORMERLY HER MAJESTY’S MINISTER RESIDENT AND CONSUL-GENERAL
IN HAYTI, NOW HER MAJESTY’S SPECIAL ENVOY TO MEXICO.
“Haïti, Haïti, pays de barbares.”
NAPOLEON III.
LONDON:
SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE.
1884.
INTRODUCTION.
Whilst in Port-au-Prince, a Spanish colleague once remarked to
me, “_Mon ami_, if we could return to Hayti fifty years hence, we
should find the negresses cooking their bananas on the site of
these warehouses.” Although this judgment is severe, yet from what
we have seen passing under the present Administration, it is more
than probable--unless in the meantime influenced by some higher
civilisation--that this prophecy will come true. The negresses are
in fact already cooking their bananas amid the ruins of the best
houses of the capital. My own impression, after personally knowing
the country above twenty years, is, that it is a country in a state
of rapid decadence. The revolution of 1843 that upset President Boyer
commenced the era of troubles which have continued to the present day.
The country has since been steadily falling to the rear in the race of
civilisation.
The long civil war (1868-1869) under President Salnave destroyed a
vast amount of property, and rendered living in the country districts
less secure, so that there has been ever since a tendency for the
more civilised inhabitants to agglomerate in the towns, and leave the
rural districts to fetish worship and cannibalism. Fires, most of them
incendiary, have swept over the cities; in the commercial quarters of
Port-au-Prince, it would be difficult to find any houses which existed
in 1863, and the fortunes of all have naturally greatly suffered.
When I reached Hayti in January 1863, the capital possessed several
respectable public buildings. The palace, without any architectural
beauty, was large and commodious, and well suited to the climate; the
Senate, the House of Representatives, the dwellings occupied by several
of the Ministers, the pretty little theatre, were all features which
have now entirely disappeared.
The town of Pétionville or La Coupe, the summer and health resort of
the capital, where the best families sought a little country life
during the great heats, was almost entirely destroyed during the
revolution of 1868, and nothing has taken its place. People are still
too poor to afford to rebuild.
Society also has completely changed. I saw at balls given in the palace
in 1863 a hundred well-dressed prosperous families of all colours; now
political dissensions would prevent such gatherings, even if there were
a building in the city which could receive them, and poverty has laid
its heavy hand more or less on all. It is the same in a greater or
lesser degree in every other town of the republic.
Agriculture in the plains is also deteriorating, and the estates
produce much less than formerly, though their staple produce is rum,
to stupefy and brutalise the barbarous lower orders.
Foreigners, nearly ruined by their losses during the constant civil
disturbances, are withdrawing from the republic, and capital is
following them; and with their withdrawal the country must sink still
lower. The best of the coloured people are also leaving, as they shun
the fate reserved for them by those who have already slaughtered the
most prominent mulattoes.
In fact, the mulatto element, which is the civilising element in Hayti,
is daily becoming of less importance; internal party strife has injured
their political standing, and constant intermarriage is causing the
race to breed back to the more numerous type, and in a few years the
mulatto element will have made disastrous approaches to the negro.
The only thing which could have saved the mulatto would have been to
encourage the whites to settle in their country; yet this step the
coloured men have blindly resisted.
In spite of all the civilising elements around them, there is a
distinct tendency to sink into the state of an African tribe. It is
naturally impossible to foretell the effect of all the influences
which are now at work in the world, and which seem to foreshadow many
changes. We appear standing on the threshold of a period of great
discoveries, which may modify many things, but not man’s nature. The
mass of the negroes of Hayti live in the country districts, which are
rarely or ever visited by civilised people; there are few Christian
priests to give them a notion of true religion; no superior local
officers to prevent them practising their worst fetish ceremonies.
In treating of the Black and the Mulatto as they appeared to me during
my residence among them, I fear that I shall be considered by some to
judge harshly. Such, however, is not my intention. Brought up under Sir
James Brooke, whose enlarged sympathies could endure no prejudice of
race or colour, I do not remember ever to have felt any repugnance to
my fellow-creatures on account of a difference of complexion.
I have dwelt above thirty-five years among coloured people of various
races, and am sensible of no prejudice against them. For twelve years I
lived in familiar and kindly intercourse with Haytians of all ranks and
shades of colour, and the most frequent and not least-honoured guests
at my table were of the black and coloured races.
All who knew me in Hayti know that I had no prejudice of colour; and
if I place the Haytian in general in an unenviable light, it is from
a strong conviction that it is necessary to describe the people as
they are, and not as one would wish them to be. The band of black
and coloured friends who gathered round me during my long residence
in Port-au-Prince were not free from many of the faults which I have
been obliged to censure in describing these different sections of the
population, but they had them in a lesser degree, or, as I was really
attached to them, I perhaps saw them in a dimmer light.
The most difficult chapter to write was that on “Vaudoux Worship
and Cannibalism.” I have endeavoured to paint it in the least
sombre colours, and none who know the country will think that I
have exaggerated; in fact, had I listened to the testimony of many
experienced residents, I should have described rites at which dozens
of human victims were sacrificed at a time. Everything I have related
has been founded on evidence collected in Hayti, from Haytian official
documents, from trustworthy officers of the Haytian Government, my
foreign colleagues, and from respectable residents--principally,
however, from Haytian sources.
It may be suggested that I am referring to the past. On the contrary,
I am informed that at present cannibalism is more rampant than ever. A
black Government dares not greatly interfere, as its power is founded
on the good-will of the masses, ignorant and deeply tainted with
fetish worship. A Haytian writer recently remarked in print, “On se
plaisit beaucoup de ce que le Vaudoux a reparu grandiose et sérieux.”
The fetish dances were forbidden by decree under the Government of
President Boisrond-Canal. That decree has been since repealed, and high
officers now attend these meetings, and distribute money and applaud
the most frantic excesses.
President Salomon, who is now in power, lived for eighteen years in
Europe, married a white, and knows what civilisation is. He probably,
on his first advent to the Presidency, possessed sufficient influence
in the country to have checked the open manifestations of this
barbarous worship; but the fate of those of his predecessors who
attempted to grapple with the evil was not encouraging. It was hoped,
however, that he would make the attempt, and that, grasping the nettle
with resolution, he might suffer no evil results; but many doubted not
only his courage to undertake the task, but even the will; and they, I
fear, have judged correctly. Whenever all the documents which exist on
this subject are published, my chapter on Cannibalism will be looked
upon but as a pale reflection of the reality.
With regard to the history of the country, materials abound for writing
a very full one, but I do not think it would prove interesting to the
general reader. It is but a series of plots and revolutions, followed
by barbarous military executions. A destructive and exhausting war
with Santo Domingo, and civil strife during the Presidency of General
Salnave, did more to ruin the resources of the country than any amount
of bad government. The enforced abandonment of work by the people
called to arms by the contending parties, introduced habits of idleness
and rapine which have continued to the present day; and the material
losses, by the destruction of the best estates and the burning of towns
and villages, have never been fully repaired.
From the overthrow of President Geffrard in 1867 the country has been
more rapidly going to ruin. The fall was slightly checked during the
quiet Presidency of Nissage-Saget; but the Government of General
Domingue amply made up for lost time, and was one of the worst, if not
the worst, that Hayti has ever seen. With the sectaries of the Vaudoux
in power, nothing else could have been expected.
I have brought my sketch of the history of Hayti down to the fall
of President Boisrond-Canal in 1879, and shall not touch on the
rule of the present President of Hayti, General Salomon. I may say,
however, that he is the determined enemy of the coloured section of
the community; is credited with having been the chief adviser of the
Emperor Soulouque in all his most disastrous measures; and the country
is said to have sunk into the lowest depths of misery. The civil war,
which by last accounts was still raging in Hayti, has been marked by
more savage excesses than any previously known in Haytian history, the
black authorities, hesitating at no step to gain their object, which is
utterly to destroy the educated coloured class. They care not for the
others; as they say, “Mulatte pauvre, li negue.”
A few words as to the origin of this book. In 1867 I was living in
the country near Port-au-Prince, and having some leisure, I began to
collect materials and write rough drafts of the principal chapters.
I was interrupted by the civil war, and did not resume work until
after I had left the country. It may be the modifying effect of
time, but on looking over the chapters as I originally wrote them, I
thought that I had been too severe in my judgments on whole classes,
and have therefore somewhat softened the opinions I then expressed;
and the greater experience which a further residence of seven years
gave me enabled me to study the people more and avoid too sweeping
condemnations.
I have not attempted to describe the present condition of the republic
of Santo Domingo, but from all I can hear it is making progress. The
Dominicans have few prejudices of colour, and eagerly welcome foreign
capitalists who arrive to develop the resources of their country.
Already there are numerous sugar estates in operation, as well as
manufactories of dyes, and efforts are being successfully made to
rework the old gold-mines. The tobacco cultivation is already large,
and only requires hands to develop it to meet any demand. I hear of a
railway having been commenced, to traverse the magnificent plain which
stretches from the Bay of Samana almost to the frontiers of Hayti.
* * * * *
After having written the chapter on Vaudoux Worship, my attention was
called to a communication which appeared in _Vanity Fair_ of August 13,
1881, by a reply published in a Haytian journal. It is evident that
the writer in _Vanity Fair_ was a naval officer or a passing traveller
in the West Indies, and he probably carefully noted the information
given him. He was, however, too inclined to believe what he heard, as
he gravely states that a Haytian told him that the kidneys of a child
were first-rate eating, adding that he had tried them himself; and
the writer remarks that the Haytian did not seem to think it strange
or out of the way that he had done so. No Haytian would have ever
stated seriously that he had eaten human flesh. Probably, amused by
the eagerness of the inquirer, he told the story to test his powers of
belief, and must have been diverted when he found his statement was
credited. Cannibalism is the one thing of which Haytians are thoroughly
ashamed.
This communication makes mention of the herb-poisonings and their
antidotes; of the midwives who render new born-babes insensible,
that are buried, dug up, restored to life, and then eaten. In May
1879 a midwife and another were caught near Port-au-Prince eating a
female baby that had been thus treated; he adds that a Haytian of
good position was discovered with his family eating a child. In the
former case the criminals were condemned to six weeks’ imprisonment,
in the latter to one month. (I may notice that I never heard of a
respectable Haytian being connected with the cannibals.) The light
punishments inflicted were due to the fear inspired by the Vaudoux
priests. In January 1881 eight people were fined for disinterring and
eating corpses. An English medical man purchased and identified the
neck and shoulders of a human being in the market at Port-au-Prince.
In February 1881, at St. Marc, a cask of so-called pork was sold to
a foreign ship. In it were discovered fingers and finger-nails, and
all the flesh proved to be that of human beings. An English coloured
clergyman at Cap Haïtien said that the Vaudoux did away with all the
effect of his ministry; and that his wife was nearly purchasing in the
market human flesh instead of pork. Four people were fined in that town
for eating corpses. When the writer arrived at Jacmel he found two men
in prison for eating corpses, and on the day of his arrival a man was
caught eating a child. Near the same town nine thousand people met at
Christmas to celebrate Vaudoux rites. At Les Cayes a child of English
parents was stolen, and on the thieves being pursued, they threw it
into a well and killed it.
These are the statements made by the writer in _Vanity Fair_, and
nearly all are probable. If correct, the open practice of Vaudoux
worship and cannibalism must have made great strides since I left
Hayti, and shows how little a black Government can do, or will do,
to suppress them. The digging up and eating of corpses was not known
during my residence there.
This communication to _Vanity Fair_ provoked a reply in a journal
published at Port-au-Prince called _L’Œil_, October 1, 1881. It denies
everything, even to the serious existence and power of the Vaudoux
priests, and spends all its energies in abuse. The article is quite
worthy of the editor,[1] who was one of the most active supporters of
President Salnave, whose connection with the Vaudoux was notorious. It
is in this angry spirit that the Haytians generally treat any public
reference to their peculiar institution.
MEXICO, _January 1884_.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF HAYTI 1
II. HISTORY BEFORE INDEPENDENCE 26
III. HISTORY SINCE INDEPENDENCE 74
IV. THE POPULATION OF HAYTI 127
V. VAUDOUX WORSHIP AND CANNIBALISM 182
VI. THE GOVERNMENT 229
VII. RELIGION, EDUCATION, AND JUSTICE 247
VIII. ARMY AND POLICE 276
IX. LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE 299
X. AGRICULTURE, COMMERCE, AND FINANCE 315
HAYTI;
OR,
THE BLACK REPUBLIC.
CHAPTER I.
GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF HAYTI.
Standing on one of the lofty mountains of Hayti, and looking towards
the interior, I was struck with the pertinence of the saying of the
Admiral, who, crumpling a sheet of paper in his hand, threw it on the
table before George III., saying, “Sire, Hayti looks like that.” The
country appears a confused agglomeration of mountain, hill, and valley,
most irregular in form; precipices, deep hollows, vales apparently
without an outlet; water occasionally glistening far below; cottages
scattered here and there, with groves of fruit-trees and bananas
clustering round the rude dwellings. Gradually, however, the eye
becomes accustomed to the scene; the mountains separate into distinct
ranges, the hills are but the attendant buttresses, and the valleys
assume their regular forms as the watersheds of the system, and the
streams can be traced meandering gradually towards the ocean.
If you then turn towards the sea, you notice that the valleys have
expanded into plains, and the rushing torrents have become broad though
shallow rivers, and the mountains that bound the flat, open country
push their buttresses almost into the sea. This grand variety of
magnificent scenery can be well observed from a point near Kenskoff,
about ten miles in the interior from the capital, as well as from
the great citadel built on the summit of La Ferrière in the northern
province. Before entering into particulars, however, let me give a
general idea of the country.
The island of Santo Domingo is situated in the West Indies between
18° and 20° north latitude and 68° 20’ and 74° 30’ west longitude.
Its greatest length is four hundred miles, its greatest breadth one
hundred and thirty-five miles, and is calculated to be about the size
of Ireland. Hayti occupies about a third of the island--the western
portion--and, pushing two great promontories into the sea, it has a
very large extent of coast-line. It is bounded on the north by the
Atlantic Ocean, on the east by the republic of Santo Domingo, on the
south by the Caribbean Sea, and on the west by the passage which
separates it from Cuba and Jamaica.
Its most noted mountain-ranges are La Selle, which lies on the
south-eastern frontier of Hayti; La Hotte, near Les Cayes; and
the Black Mountains in the northern province; but throughout the
whole extent of the republic the open valleys are bounded by lofty
elevations. In fact, on approaching the island from any direction, it
appears so mountainous that it is difficult to imagine that so many
smiling, fertile plains are to be met with in every department. They
are, however, numerous. The most extensive are the Cul-de-Sac, near
Port-au-Prince, the plains of Gonaives, the Artibonite, Arcahaye, Port
Margot, Leogâne, that of Les Cayes, and those that follow the northern
coast.
Hayti has the advantage of being well watered, though this source of
riches is greatly neglected. The principal river is the Artibonite,
which is navigable for small craft for a short distance; the other
streams have more the character of mountain torrents, full to
overflowing during the rainy season, whilst during the dry they are but
rivulets running over broad pebbly beds.
The lakes lying at the head of the plain of Cul-de-Sac are a marked
feature in the landscape as viewed from the neighbouring hills. They
are but little visited, as their shores are marshy, very unhealthy, and
uninhabitable on that account, while the swarms of mosquitoes render
even a temporary stay highly disagreeable. The waters of one of them
are brackish, which would appear to indicate more salt deposits in the
neighbourhood.
There are a few islands attached to Hayti, the principal, La Tortue, on
the north, Gonaives on the west, and L’Isle-à-Vache on the south coast.
Some attempts have been made to develop their natural riches, but as
yet with but slight success. The first two named are famous for their
mahogany trees.
The principal towns of the republic are Port-au-Prince, the capital,
Cap Haïtien in the north, and Les Cayes in the south. Jacmel, Jérémie,
Miragoâne, St. Marc, and Gonaives are also commercial ports.
Port-au-Prince is situated at the bottom of a deep bay, which runs
so far into the western coast as almost to divide Hayti in two. It
contains about 20,000 inhabitants, and was carefully laid out by the
French. It possesses every natural advantage that a capital could
require. Little use, however, is made of these advantages, and the
place is one of the most unpleasant residences imaginable. I was one
day talking to a French naval officer, and he observed, “I was here as
a midshipman forty years ago.” “Do you notice any change?” I asked.
“Well, it is perhaps dirtier than before.” Its dirt is its great
drawback, and appears ever to have been so, as Moreau de St. Méry
complained of the same thing during the last century. However, there
are degrees of dirt, and he would probably be astonished to see it at
the present day. The above paragraph was first written in 1867; since
that it has become worse, and when I last landed (1877), I found the
streets heaped up with filth.
The capital is well laid out, with lines of streets running parallel
to the sea, whilst others cross at right angles, dividing the town
into numerous islets or blocks. The streets are broad, but utterly
neglected. Every one throws out his refuse before his door, so that
heaps of manure, broken bottles, crockery, and every species of
rubbish encumber the way, and render both riding and walking dangerous.
Building materials are permitted occasionally to accumulate to so
great an extent as completely to block up the streets and seriously
impede the traffic. Mackenzie, in his notes on Hayti, remarks on the
impassable state of the streets in 1826; torn up by tropical rains,
they were mended with refuse (generally stable dung to fill up the
holes, and a thin layer of earth thrown over), only to be again
destroyed by the first storm. Ask Haytians why they do not mend their
streets and roads, they answer, “Bon Dieu, gâté li; bon Dieu, paré li”
(God spoilt them, and God will mend them). Then, as now, the roads were
in such a state in wet weather that only a waggon with a team of oxen
could get through the muddy slough.
On first entering the town, you are struck with the utter shabbiness of
the buildings, mean cottages and grovelling huts by the side of the few
decent-looking dwellings. Most of the houses are constructed of wood,
badly built with very perishable materials, imported from the United
States or our Northern colonies. The idea that originally prevailed
in the construction of the private houses was admirable; before each
was a broad verandah, open to all passers, so that from one end of the
town to the other it was intended that there should be cool, shady
walks. But the intolerable stupidity of the inhabitants has spoilt
this plan; in most streets the level of the verandahs of each house
is of a different height, and frequently separated by a marshy spot,
the receptacle of every species of filth; so that you must either walk
in the sun or perform in the shade a series of gymnastic exercises
exceedingly inconvenient in a tropical climate.
On either side of the street was a paved gutter, but now, instead of
aiding the drainage, it is another cause of the accumulation of filth.
The stones which formerly rendered the watercourses even are either
removed or displaced, and the rains collecting before the houses form
fetid pools, into which the servants pour all that in other countries
is carried off by the sewers. In a few of the more commercial streets,
where foreigners reside, more attention is paid to cleanliness,
but still Port-au-Prince may bear the palm away of being the most
foul-smelling, dirty, and consequently fever-stricken city in the world.
The port is well protected, but is gradually filling up, as the rains
wash into it not only the silt from the mountains, but the refuse of
the city, and no effort is made to keep it open. As there is but little
tide, the accumulations of every species of vegetable and animal matter
render the water fetid, and when the sea-breeze blows gently over these
turbid waves, an effluvia is borne into the town sickening to all but
native nostrils.
The most remarkable edifice of Port-au-Prince was the palace, a
long, low, wooden building of one storey, supported on brick walls:
it contained several fine rooms, and two halls which might have
been rendered admirable for receptions; but everything around it
was shabby--the stables, the guard-houses, the untended garden, the
courtyard overrun with grass and weeds, and the surrounding walls
partially in ruins. This spacious presidential residence was burnt down
during the revolutionary attack on Port-au-Prince in December 1869, and
no attempt has been made to rebuild it.
The church is a large wooden building, an overgrown shed, disfigured by
numerous wretched paintings which cover its walls; and, as an unworthy
concession to local prejudice, our Saviour is occasionally represented
by an ill-drawn negro.
The senate-house was the building with the most architectural
pretensions, but its outer walls only remained when I last saw it, fire
having destroyed the roof and the interior wood-work. There is no other
edifice worthy of remark; and the private houses, with perhaps a score
of exceptions, are of the commonest order.
The market-places are large and well situated, but ill-tended and
dirty, and in the wet season muddy in the extreme. They are fairly
supplied with provisions. I may notice that in those of Port-au-Prince
very superior meat is often met with, and good supplies of vegetables,
including excellent European kinds, brought from the mountain gardens
near Fort Jaques.
The supply of water is very defective. During the reign of the Emperor
Soulouque a luminous idea occurred to some one, that instead of
repairing the old French aqueduct, iron pipes should be laid down. The
Emperor had the sagacity to see the advantage of the plan, and gave
orders for the work to be done. As an exception to the general rule,
the idea was to a certain extent well carried out, and remains the only
durable monument of a most inglorious reign. Had the iron pipes been
entirely substituted for the old French work, the inhabitants would
have enjoyed the benefit of pure water; but when I left in 1877, the
people in the suburbs were still breaking open the old stone-work to
obtain a source of supply near their dwellings; and pigs, children, and
washerwomen congregated round these spots and defiled the stream.
The amount of water introduced into the town is still most inadequate;
and though numerous springs, and one delightful stream, La Rivière
Froide, are within easy distance of the port, no effort has been made
to increase the supply. La Rivière Froide--name redolent of pleasant
reminiscences in a tropical climate--could easily fill a canal, which
would not only afford an inexhaustible supply for the wants of the town
and shipping, but, by creating an outward current, would carry off
the floating matter which pollutes the port. Since my departure a Mr.
Stephens commenced some works to afford the town a constant supply of
water, but these, I understand, have as yet only been partially carried
out. If ever finished, they will afford to the inhabitants a great boon.
The cemetery is situated outside the town. I never entered it except
when compelled to attend a funeral, and hastened to leave it as soon
as possible, on account of an unpleasant odour which pervades it. It
is not kept in good order, though many families carefully attend to
the graves of their relatives, and there are several striking tombs.
People of all religions are buried here; but it is on record that a
brawling Irish priest once attempted to disinter a Protestant child.
His brawling subsequently led to his banishment.
I noticed on my first arrival in Port-au-Prince two marble coffins,
very handsome, lying neglected on the ground outside the palace. I was
told they had been brought from abroad in order that the remains of
Pétion and Boyer, two of their best Presidents, should repose in them;
but for many years I saw them lying empty on the same spot, and I never
heard what became of them.
The curse of Port-au-Prince is fire. Every few years immense
conflagrations consume whole quarters of the town. Nothing can stop the
flames but one of the few brick-houses, against which the quick-burning
fire is powerless. During my residence in Port-au-Prince five awful
fires devastated the town. On each occasion from two to five hundred
houses were destroyed. And yet the inhabitants go on building wretched
wooden match-boxes, and even elaborate houses of the most inflammable
materials. Companies should be careful how they insure property in
Port-au-Prince, as there are some very well-authenticated stories of
frauds practised on them both by Europeans and natives.
Port-au-Prince, on my first arrival in 1863, was governed by a
municipality, over which presided a very honest man, a Monsieur
Rivière, one of those Protestants to whom I have referred in my
chapter on religion. As a new arrival, I thought the town sufficiently
neglected, but I had reason to change my opinion. It was a pattern of
cleanliness to what it subsequently became. The municipality, when one
exists, has for its principal duties the performance or neglect of the
registration of all acts relating to the “état civil,” and to divide
among its members and friends, for work never carried out, whatever
funds they can collect from the city.
At the back of the capital, at a distance of about five miles, was the
village of La Coupe, the summer residence of the wealthier families. As
it was situated about 1200 feet above the level of the sea and was open
to every breeze, it afforded a delightful change from the hot, damp
town; but during the civil war of 1868 the best houses were destroyed
and never reconstructed. There is a natural bath there, the most
picturesque feature of the place; it is situated under lofty trees,
that cast a deep shade over the spot, and during the hottest day it is
charmingly cool.
Cap Haïtien is the most picturesque town in Hayti; it is beautifully
situated on a most commodious harbour. As you enter it, passing Fort
Picolet, you are struck by its safe position--a narrow entrance so
easily defended. My first visit was in H.M.S. “Galatea,” Captain
Macguire; and as we expected that we might very possibly be received
by the fire of all the batteries, our own crew were at their guns,
keeping them steadily trained on Fort Picolet, whose artillery was
distant about a couple of hundred yards. Having slowly steamed past
forts and sunken batteries, we found ourselves in front of the town,
with its ruins overgrown with creepers, and in the background the rich
vegetation sweeping gracefully up to the summit of the beautiful hill
which overshadows Cap Haïtien.
Cap Haïtien never recovered from the effects of the fearful earthquake
of 1842, when several thousands of its inhabitants perished. To this
day they talk of that awful event, and never forget to relate how the
country-people rushed in to plunder the place, and how none lent a
helping-hand to aid their half-buried countrymen. Captain Macguire
and myself used to wander about the ruins, and we could not but feel
how little energy remained in a people who could leave their property
in such a state. It was perhaps cheaper to build a trumpery house
elsewhere.
One of those who suffered the most during that visitation wrote before
the earth had ceased trembling, “Against the acts of God Almighty no
one complains,” and then proceeded to relate how the dread earthquake
shook down or seriously injured almost every house; how two-thirds
of the inhabitants were buried beneath the fallen masonry; how the
bands of blacks rushed in from mountain and plain, not to aid in
saving their wretched countrymen, whose cries and groans could be
heard for two or three days, but to plunder the stores replete with
goods; and--what he did complain of--how the officers and men of the
garrison, instead of attempting to keep order, joined in plundering the
small remnants of what the rest of the inhabitants could save from the
tottering ruins. What a people!
The most striking objects near Cap Haïtien are the remains of
the palace of Sans Souci, and of the citadel constructed by King
Christophe, called La Ferrière. It requires a visit to induce one to
believe that so elaborate, and, I may add, so handsome a structure,
could exist in such a place as Hayti, or that a fortification such
as the citadel could ever have been constructed on the summit of a
lofty mountain, five thousand feet, I believe, above the level of the
sea. Some of the walls are eighty feet in height, and sixteen feet in
thickness, where the heavy batteries of English guns still remain in
position. All is of the most solid masonry, and covering the whole peak
of the mountain.
We were really lost in amazement as we threaded gallery after gallery
where heavy fifty-six and thirty-two pounders guarded every approach to
what was intended to be the last asylum of Haytian independence. Years
of the labour of toiling thousands were spent to prepare this citadel,
which the trembling earth laid in ruins in a few minutes. What energy
did this black king possess to rear so great a monument? but the
reverse of the medal states that every stone in that wonderful building
cost a human life.
It is a popular idea in Hayti that the superiority of the northern
department, and the greater industry of its inhabitants, date from the
time of Christophe, and some express a belief that his iron system
was suitable to the country; but the fact is that Moreau de St. Méry,
writing in the last century, insists on the superior advantages of the
northern province, its greater fertility, the abundance of rain, and
consequently the number of rivers, as well as the superior intelligence
and industry of the inhabitants, and their greater sociability and
polish. They are certainly more sociable than in the capital, and
people still seek northern men to work on their estates. As for
Christophe’s system, no amount of increase in produce could compensate
for its brutality.
Gonaives is a poor-looking town, constantly devastated by revolutions
and fires, with a few broad, unfinished streets, and some good houses
among the crowds of poor-looking buildings. This neighbourhood is
famous for what are called white truffles. They are dried and sent to
the different parts of the republic.
St. Marc, though not so scattered as Gonaives, is a small place. It was
formerly built of stone; a few specimens of this kind of building still
remain. Jacmel has a very unsafe harbour, but possesses importance as
one of the ports at which the royal mail steamers call, and has a large
export trade in coffee. Les Cayes, Jérémie, and other smaller ports I
have only seen at a distance, but I hear they are much like the other
cities and towns of the republic. Mackenzie says that the city and
environs of Les Cayes are described as “très riante,” and that in his
time it was kept in better order than the capital. This is said still
to be the case.
My last long ride in Hayti was from Cap Haïtien to Gonaives, and
nestling in the hills I found some very pretty villages, planted in
lovely sites, with fresh, babbling streams, and fruit groves hiding the
inferior-looking houses. The place I most admired was, I think, called
Plaisance. There was a freshness, a brightness, a repose about the
village that made me regret it was situated so far from the capital.
Wherever you may ride in the mountains, you cannot fail to remark that
there is scarcely a decent-looking house out of the towns. The whole
of the country is abandoned to the small cultivators, whose inferior
cottages are met with at every turn, and, as might be expected from
such a population, very dirty and devoid of every comfort, rarely any
furniture beyond an old chair, a rickety table, a few sleeping-mats,
and some cooking utensils. There is no rule, however, without an
exception, and I remember being much struck by seeing at Kenskoff, a
small hamlet about ten or twelve miles direct from Port-au-Prince, a
good house, where there were some chairs, tables, and bedsteads, and
around this dwelling several huts, in which the wives of our host lived
separately.
Now and then a peasant will build a larger house than usual; we met
with one, the last we slept in on our ride to the mountain, La Selle,
whose proprietor had really some ideas of comfort, and before whose
dwelling coffee-plants were growing, trimmed to the height of six feet,
planted separate from one another, perfectly clean, and covered with
indications of an abundant crop. They had been planted there in former
days by an intelligent proprietor, and the peasant had the merit of not
neglecting them.
The plain of Cul-de-Sac, adjoining the north side of Port-au-Prince,
was one of the richest and most cultivated during the time of the
French; and as all regular cultivation depends on the amount of water,
their engineers had constructed the most careful system for the storage
and distribution of the supplies. Properly managed, all the large
estates could receive the quantity necessary for their lands, but
for many years the stone-work was neglected, and the grand barrage
was becoming useless, when President Geffrard placed the affair in
the hands of an able French engineer, Mons. Ricard, who efficiently
restored the main work, but had not funds to complete the canals for
distributing the waters. As usual in all enterprises in that country,
the money voted had to pass through so many hands, that before it
reached the engineer it had diminished to less than half.
The soil of the plain is most fertile, and only appears to require
water to give the most promising crops of sugar-cane. There are some
very extensive estates that could afford work for a large population,
but the ever-increasing disturbances in the country render Capital shy
of venturing there.
As might readily be supposed, the roads are greatly neglected, and
during the rainy season are almost impassable. They are composed simply
of the surrounding soil, with a few branches thrown into the most
dangerous holes. The bridges are generally avoided; it is a saying in
Hayti, that you should go round a bridge, but never cross it, and the
advice is generally to be followed. For the main streams there are
fords. An attempt was once made to bridge over La Grande Rivière du Cul
de Sac, but the first freshet washed away all the preliminary work.
In the mountains there are only bridle-paths, though occasionally I
came across the remains of old French roads and good paths. On the
way to Kenskoff there is a place called L’Escalier, to escalade the
steepest side of the mountain. The horses that are used to it manage
well, but those from the plains find the steps awkward. On the road
from Gonaives to the northern province there is a very remarkable
paved way, the work so well done that it has resisted the rain during
a hundred years of neglect. Some of the bridle-paths in the north are
exceedingly good, and are admirably carried up the sides of hills, so
as to avoid the most difficult spots.
In the range above Tourjeau I came across a very pretty grassy
bridle-path, and near I found the remains of a large French
country-house, evidently the residence of some great proprietor. The
tradition in the neighbourhood is that there was an indigo factory
adjoining, but I could scarcely imagine the site suitable. Wherever you
may go in Hayti you come across signs of decadence, not only from the
exceptional prosperity of the French period, but even of comparatively
recent years. After the plundering and destruction of 1868 and 1869,
few care to keep up or restore their devastated houses, and it is now a
hand-to-mouth system.
Cul-de-Sac is a glorious plain, and in good hands would be a fountain
of riches; and the same may be said of the other splendid plains that
abound throughout the island. Every tropical production grows freely,
so that there would be no limit to production should the country
ever abandon revolutions to turn its attention to industry. About
three-fourths of the surface of the plains are occupied by wood or
prickly acacia, that invades every uncultivated spot.
The mountains that bound these plains and extend to the far interior
present magnificent sites for pleasant residences; but no civilised
being could occupy them on account of the difficulty of communication
and the doubtful character of the population. Up to the time of the
fall of President Geffrard it was possible; now it would be highly
imprudent. In one of the most smiling valleys that I have ever seen,
lying to the left whilst riding to the east of Kenskoff, a friend of
mine possessed a very extensive property. The place looked so beautiful
that I proposed to him a lengthened visit, to which he acceded. Delay
after delay occurred, and then the civil war of 1865 prevented our
leaving Port-au-Prince. In 1869 there were arrested in that valley
a dozen of the worst cannibals of the Vaudoux sect, and the police
declared that the whole population of that lovely garden of the country
was given up to fetish worship. It was probably a knowledge of this
that made my friend so long defer our proposed visit, as the residence
of a white man among them might have been looked upon with an evil eye.
I have travelled in almost every quarter of the globe, and I may
say that, taken as a whole, there is not a finer island than that
of Santo Domingo. No country possesses greater capabilities, or a
better geographical position, or more variety of soil, of climate,
or of production; with magnificent scenery of every description,
and hill-sides where the pleasantest of health-resorts might be
established. And yet it is now the country to be most avoided, ruined
as it has been by a succession of self-seeking politicians, without
honesty or patriotism, content to let the people sink to the condition
of an African tribe, that their own selfish passions may be gratified.
The climate of Hayti is of the ordinary tropical character, and
the temperature naturally varies according to the position of the
towns. Cap Haïtien, being exposed to the cooling influence of the
breezes from the north, is much more agreeable as a residence than
Port-au-Prince, which is situated at the bottom of a deep bay.
In summer, that is, during the months of June, July, August, and
September, the heat is very oppressive. The registered degrees give
one an idea of the disagreeableness of the climate. In my house at
Tourjeau, near Port-au-Prince, 600 feet above the level of the sea, I
have noted a registering thermometer marking 97° in the drawing-room
at 2 P.M. in July, and 95° in the dining-room on the ground-floor; and
in a room off a court in the town I have heard of 103°--no doubt from
refraction.[2] At the Petit Séminaire the priests keep a register, and
I notice that rarely is the heat marked as 95°, generally 93.2° is the
maximum; but the thermometer must be kept in the coolest part of the
college, and is no criterion of what is felt in ordinary rooms. The
nights also are oppressively warm, and for days I have noticed the
thermometer seldom marking less than 80° during the night. In August
the heat is even greater than in July, rising to 97° at the Petit
Séminaire, whilst in September the maximum is registered as 91.5°; and
this heat continues well on into November, the maximum being the same.
I have not the complete returns, but generally the heats of September
are nearly equal to those of August. In what may be called winter,
the thermometer rarely marks over 84°, and the nights are cool and
pleasant. In fact, I have been assured of the thermometer having fallen
as low as 58° during the night, but I never saw it myself below 60°. It
is a curious fact that foreigners generally suffer from the heat, and
get ill in consequence, whilst the natives complain of the bitter cold
of the winter, and have their season of illness then.
Port-au-Prince is essentially unhealthy, and yellow fever too often
decimates the crews of the ships of war that visit its harbour. In
1869, on account of the civil convulsion, French and English ships
remained months in harbour. The former suffered dreadfully; the
“Limier,” out of a crew of 106 men and eight officers, lost fifty-four
men and four officers, whilst the “D’Estrés” and another had to
mourn their captains and many of their crew. Who that ever knew him
can forget and not cherish the memory of Captain De Varannes of the
“D’Estrés,” one of the most sympathetic of men, a brilliant officer,
and a steady upholder of the French and English alliance? De Varannes
was an Imperialist, an aide-de-camp of the Empress, and thoroughly
devoted to the family that had made his fortune. When the medical men
announced to him that he had not above two hours to live, he asked the
French agent if he had any portraits of the Imperial family; they were
brought and placed at the foot of the bed where he could see them. He
asked then to be left alone, and an hour after, when a friend crept
in, he found poor De Varannes dead, with his eyes open, and apparently
fixed on the portraits before him. I should add that both these vessels
brought the fever to Port-au-Prince from Havana and Martinique.
The English ships suffered less, as our officers are not bound by the
rigid rules that regulate the French commanders, who would not leave
the harbour without express orders from their Admiral, though their men
were dying by dozens. Captain Hunter of the “Vestal” and Captain Salmon
of the “Defence” knew their duty to their crews too well to keep them
in the pestilential harbour, and as soon as yellow fever appeared on
board, steamed away; and the latter went five hundred miles due north
till he fell in with cool weather, and thus only lost three men. A
French officer told me that when the sailors on board the “Limier” saw
the “Defence” steam out of harbour, they were depressed even to tears,
and said, “See how the English officers are mindful of the health of
their men, whilst ours let us die like flies.” Captain Hunter of the
“Vestal” never had due credit given him for his devotion to his crew
whilst suffering from yellow fever. He made a hospital of his cabin,
and knew no rest till he had reached the cool harbours of the north.
Merchant seamen in certain years have suffered dreadfully from this
scourge, both in Port-au-Prince and in the neighbouring port of
Miragoâne. Two-thirds of the crews have often died, and every now and
then there is a season in which few ships escape without loss.
Yellow fever rarely appears on shore, as the natives do not take it,
and the foreign population is small and mostly acclimatised. The
other diseases from which people suffer are ordinary tropical fevers,
agues, small-pox, and the other ills to which humanity is subject; but
although Port-au-Prince is the filthiest town I have ever seen, it has
not yet been visited by cholera. In the spring of 1882 small-pox broke
out in so virulent a form that the deaths rose to a hundred a day. This
dreadful visitation continued several months, and it is calculated
carried off above 5000 people in the city and its neighbourhood.
If Hayti ever becomes civilised, and if ever roads are made, there
are near Port-au-Prince summer health-resorts which are perfectly
European in their climate. Even La Coupe, or, as it is officially
called, Pétionville, about five miles from the capital, at an altitude
of 1200 feet, is from ten to twelve degrees cooler during the day, and
the nights are delicious; and if you advance to Kenskoff or Furcy, you
have the thermometer marking during the greatest heat of the day 75°
to 77°, whilst the mornings and evenings are delightfully fresh, with
the thermometer at from 57° to 68°, and the nights cold. On several
occasions I passed some months at Pétionville, and found the climate
most refreshing after the burning heats of the sea-coast.
The regular rainy season commences about Port-au-Prince during the
month of April, and continues to the month of September, with rain
again in November under the name of “les pluies de la Toussaint.”
After several months of dry weather one breathes again as the easterly
wind brings the welcome rain, which comes with a rush and a force that
bends the tallest palm-tree till its branches almost sweep the ground.
Sometimes, whilst dried up in the town, we could see for weeks the
rain-clouds gathering on the Morne de l’Hôpital within a few miles, and
yet not a drop would come to refresh our parched-up gardens.
During the great heats the rain is not only welcome as cooling the
atmosphere, but as it comes in torrents, it rushes down the streets and
sweeps clean all those that lead to the harbour, and carries before it
the accumulated filth of the dry season. In very heavy rains the cross
streets are flooded; and one year the water came down so heavily and
suddenly that the brooks became rushing rivers. The flood surprised a
priest whilst bathing, swept him down to the Champs de Mars, and threw
his mangled body by the side of a house I was at that moment visiting.
That evening, as I was already wet, I rode home during the tempest,
and never did I see more vivid lightning, hear louder thunder, or feel
heavier rain. As we headed the hill, the water rushing down the path
appeared almost knee-deep; and to add to the terror of my animal,
a white horse, maddened by fear, came rushing down the hill with
flowing mane and tail, and swept past us. Seen only during a flash of
lightning, it was a most picturesque sight, and I had much difficulty
in preventing my frightened horse joining in his wild career.
The rainy season varies in different parts of the island, particularly
in the north. I am surprised to observe that the priests have found
the annual fall of rain to be only 117 inches. I had thought it more.
Perhaps, however, that was during an exceptionally dry year.
The great plain of Cul-de-Sac is considered healthy, although
occasionally intensely warm. It is, however, freely exposed not only
to the refreshing sea-breezes, but to the cooling land-winds that come
down from the mountains that surround it. There is but little marsh,
except near La Rivière Blanche, which runs near the mountains to the
north and is lost in the sands.
On the sugar-cane plantations, where much irrigation takes place, the
negro workmen suffer somewhat from fever and ague, but probably more
from the copious libations of new rum, which they assert are rendered
necessary by the thirsty nature of the climate.
I had often read of a clap of thunder in a clear sky, but never heard
anything like the one that shook our house near Port-au-Prince. We
were sitting, a large party, in our broad verandah, about eight in the
evening, with a beautiful starlight night,--the stars, in fact, shining
so brightly that you could almost read by their light,--when a clap of
thunder, which appeared to burst just over our roof, took our breath
away. It was awful in its suddenness and in its strength. No one spoke
for a minute or two, when, by a common impulse, we left the house and
looked up into a perfectly clear sky. At a distance, however, on the
summits of the mountains, was a gathering of black clouds, which warned
my friends to mount their horses, and they could scarcely have reached
the town when one of the heaviest storms I have known commenced, with
thunder worthy of the clap that had startled us. Though all of us were
seasoned to the tropics, we had never been so impressed before.
In the wet season the rain, as a rule, comes on at regular hours and
lasts a given time, though occasionally it will continue through a
night and longer, though rarely does it last above twenty-four hours
without a gleam of sunshine intervening.