SOME WEIRD STORIES.
No account of Cuba would be quite complete without some reference to the
superstitious observances of the negro population, which have not failed
to affect, by a kind of reflex action, the ideas and customs of the
white inhabitants of the island.
The negroes have a smattering, of course, of Catholic teaching, and a
tincture of the superstitions which affect the lowest order of Catholic
mind. Super-added to these--or perhaps I should rather say, underlying
them--we find a great mass of Voudistic legend and tradition, and a
consequent observance and practice of those dark, weird, and
blood-curdling mysteries known as the worship of Obi. The origin of this
form of idolatry is lost in antiquity. It was known in ancient Egypt,
where the serpent was called _Ob_ or _Aub_. Traces of it appear even in
Holy Writ. Moses charges the Israelites "not to inquire of the demon
_Ob_"--described in the Vulgate as "divinator" and "sorcilegus." The
Witch of Endor is called _Oub_ or _Ob_ in the original, and the word
appears translated as _Pythonessa_, or Witch.
The African slaves imported their strange rites into the West Indies
when they were carried into slavery, and clung to them with all the
tenacity of an oppressed and cruelly handled race.
The occult power possessed by the Obi man or woman is believed to be
hereditary, but it rarely develops until the individual attains an
advanced age. Fetish worship is a fundamental doctrine, and the Obi man
has the power of causing the Obi, or evil spirit, to pass into any
object he may select, such as the jaw-bone of a horse, or the body of a
monkey. To these objects, living or dead, the worshippers offer fruit,
fowls, and flowers. The ceremony of calling the spirit into its new
abode is full of mystery and horror, and is generally performed at dead
of night, and in some lonely and sequestered spot, far from Christian
and profane eyes.
Many a curious story have I heard, of strange fate and cruel misfortune,
connected with the dark practices of negro witchcraft. The following
tale, which was related to me by a relative of the victim, will serve as
an instance of Obi power. I need scarcely say I do not ask my readers to
believe it, but I am quite sure my informant, by no means an uneducated
man, placed the most implicit faith in every word he spoke.
A certain wealthy Cuban planter, whom I will call Don Pablo, once
suspected an old negro in his service of being an Obi man. He had but
recently returned to his estates, from a long sojourn in Europe, and was
determined to suppress, so far as in him lay, the diabolical ceremonies
which, his overseer assured him, were frequently performed by certain of
the negroes on his plantation, who had thus acquired a vast influence
over their fellows. One night, Don Pablo followed his overseer into the
forest, and reached a deserted hut, evidently used as a fetish temple,
just as the rites began. He hid himself among the jungle, and watched
his opportunity. The assemblage consisted of some twenty to thirty
negroes, of both sexes, plentifully bedecked with beads, shells, and
feathers, but otherwise stark naked. They opened proceedings by
performing a sort of Pyrrhic dance, shouting as they whirled round and
round, and brandishing their torches. Presently the door of the hut
opened, and the Obi man appeared. He was very old, and quite greyheaded.
His naked body was marked with white paint to represent a skeleton, and
his appearance under the pale moonlight and the livid glow of the
torches was weird beyond description. Don Pablo half wished himself at
home--for, like all his race, he was both excitable and superstitious.
In due time, the Obi man brought forward a huge toad, in which, after
many ceremonies, he declared the Obi or fetish to be embodied. This
done, he began to worship it, and to indulge in certain strange and
obscene antics. Don Pablo, in his indignation, burst from his
hiding-place, pistol in hand, commanding the Obi man to desist, and
disperse the gathering, or take the consequences. To his surprise, the
old priest utterly defied him, and boldly told him that if he persisted
in disturbing the strange rites, the most fearful misfortunes would
befall him. The audacious speech was answered by a ringing shot, which
ended the Obi man's career, and broke up the meeting in wild confusion.
A few days afterwards, whilst Don Pablo sat at dinner, his wife fell
suddenly forward and expired. In less than a fortnight his only daughter
died, of some quickly developed and mysterious disease--probably poison.
Broken-hearted and alarmed by these crushing blows, following in such
swift and merciless succession, the unhappy man betook himself to a
neighbouring plantation, and sought to propitiate the offended deity
through another well-known and potent Obi man, but the attempt failed
absolutely. The wizard declared he had no power to undo the mischief,
for, he alleged, the deceased Obi man was far more influential with the
spirits than himself. The miserable Don Pablo returned to his desolate
home to find a letter announcing the death of his only son, who had been
suddenly carried off in Paris, whither he had been sent for his
education.
The number thirteen is considered an unlucky and even fatal one in Cuba.
If you have a fever, the Obi man or woman will give you a little bag
containing twelve seeds of garlic, which you put under your pillow, and
in the morning you are sure to awake quite well,--unless, indeed, the
witch has maliciously inserted a thirteenth seed, in which case you may
as well order your coffin at once.
The evil eye is as prevalent as in Naples, and most houses are protected
from it by a horseshoe, such as we often see, for the matter of that, in
non-superstitious England! An Obi man or woman always has the evil
eye--_mal de ojo_--and can do harm by mere force of will power, even if
the object be many miles removed. If you have incurred the Obi man's
anger, your undertaking, whatever be its nature, is sure to fail; and on
your return home, you may find your favourite child has been stung by a
scorpion, or is dying of the fever, that your blacks are afflicted with
some fell disease, and your herds stolen, or decimated.
Some Obi women are famous as prophetesses. There was a negro witch on
the plantation of DoA+-a Mary d'O----, an American lady, the widow of an
exceedingly rich Cuban planter, and a most kindly and hospitable lady.
One morning our hostess took us down to the negro quarters, to visit the
dusky pythoness, whom we found sitting in the shade of some huge banana
plants, smoking her cigarette. She rose to greet her mistress, and I was
struck at once by her tall, commanding figure, and the stately manner in
which she wore the long draperies of scarlet and white calico, which
fell in ample folds (none of the freshest, I am forced to add) down to
her feet. Her name was appropriate to her profession--Proserpina--Pina,
for short. In answer to our greeting and inquiries after her health,
Proserpina informed us she was well, but that owing to certain portents,
she dreaded the near approach of some misfortune. Sure enough, very
shortly afterwards, the _vomito nigro_ appeared among the plantation
hands, and many of them were swept away. Proserpina was a skilful
palmist, and told us our future with a fair degree of success. She
informed my fellow-traveller, and quite truly, that he would die within
eight years, and assured me I should live to be very old and very rich.
I would fain hope the oracle may yet come true! "Pina" persistently
refused to work, but her mistress, thinking it well to be on good terms
with a personage so greatly looked up to by her fellows, allowed her to
take her own way. She was in great demand among the plantation hands, in
cases of sickness and childbirth, and she was not above accepting her
fees, like any other lady doctor, exacted them, in fact, under threat of
awful penalties. This venerable dame, like most of her profession, was
an adept in the compounding of philtres and deadly poisons, the
ingredients of which recall, in some cases, the uncanny mixtures
prepared by the weird sisters in Macbeth--scorpion's blood six drops,
the head of a toad, the belly of a snake, the poison of a black spider,
and strange herbs gathered by moonlight. The whole mixed in a cauldron
over a fire fed with dead men's bones, and boiled between midnight and
dawn.
Every thoroughbred Cuban believes in ghosts and haunted houses. To this
day certain plantations stand desolate, because nobody will face the
spirits which haunt them--proof, if proof were needed, of the awful
crimes committed within their walls. Before Tacon's time, such high
roads as there were in the interior of the island were very unsafe, and
gangs of banditti infested various parts of the country. They waylaid
travellers, murdered them, and stripped their bodies. Many years ago a
well-known lawyer at Porto Principe was arrested and charged with
organising and financing a gang of monteros who had turned highwaymen,
and killed and plundered various wealthy travellers on their way to
certain plantations in the interior. In the course of his trial it
transpired that the bodies of the victims were buried under the kitchen
floor of a wayside _fonda_ (inn), the precise spots having been revealed
to a negro seer by the ghosts of the slain. To this day, nobody will
pass that _fonda_ on All Souls Eve, because they are sure to see the
spirits of the murdered men barring the road, and supplicating the
passer-by to have a mass and _de profundis_ offered for the repose of
their unshriven souls.
Divers plantations have an evil reputation because negroes have been
burnt there in days long gone by for practising the rites of Obi, or
because their cruel masters desired to get rid of them, for reasons of
their own. When the tempest is at its height, you may yet see, wandering
among the palm trees, a black form wreathed in flames, whose wailing
shriek rises even above the howling of the storm.
The superstitions of the blacks affected the whites: it could hardly be
otherwise; for, however strong caste prejudice may be, the dominant race
must absorb some proportion of the prejudices inherent in those who have
nursed and waited on them in their tenderest and most impressionable
years. Cases have occurred, and may occur even now, in which white men
and women of the lowest class have joined in the strange and repellent
rites of the African religion, if so it can be called. But I need hardly
say that the more educated Cubans, though they admit the existence of a
strange and mysterious faculty in certain of the negro priests and
priestesses, hold themselves utterly aloof from such demoniac and
degrading practices.
Whilst we are on gruesome subjects, I may be excused if I take the
opportunity of saying something about Cuban funeral customs, which have,
however, been greatly modified of late years, in the large towns, owing
to the advance of education, and to some slight improvement in the
popular appreciation of hygiene. Twenty years ago, however (and even
now, in the interior), the corpse used to be dressed up in its best
clothes, the man in his frock-coat, white cravat, and patent-leather
boots, the woman, if married, in her Sunday go-to-meeting best, or if
she were a young girl, in white, with a wreath of flowers round her
head. Thus arrayed, the body, after being exposed in a sort of lying in
state in one of the principal apartments of the house, would be conveyed
to the cemetery, with the lid of the coffin open, so that parents and
friends might be able to admire the final toilette. This custom, which
is still general among the Eastern orthodox Greeks, led in the course of
time to the formation of a singular band of resurrectionists, who, after
some wealthy person's funeral, were wont to steal away by night to the
cemetery, dig up the body and despoil it of its fashionable garments,
which constantly found their way to the second-hand clothiers. At
present, among the educated classes, and in the large cities, the coffin
lid is closed. But a compromise has been devised by the introduction of
a plate-glass lid, through which the pleasing spectacle of the deceased
lying at rest, bedecked with this world's finery, can be enjoyed without
risk. A Cuban funeral procession is generally of very great length, and
usually accompanied by a band of musicians, the town band for
preference, playing operatic airs and even dance music. I once saw a
young lady borne to her last home, her coffin covered with splendid
wreaths, and surrounded by weeping friends, to the tune of the then
popular Baccio waltz. Formerly, as in the East, men and women used to be
hired as mourners, and being trained for the purpose, howled dismally
enough to raise the dead. But they have been abolished, except in
country places, where, in Cuba as elsewhere, old fashions die hard.
Among the guajiros, monteros, and poor whites generally,--and I believe
also amongst the Catholic negroes,--a ceremony takes place on the night
between the death and the funeral (which, by the way, always occurs
within twenty-four hours), which bears a strong resemblance to an Irish
wake: it is called a _velorio_; literally, watch or wake. The friends
and relatives gather round the coffin, and spend the night watching by
the body, which is placed in the centre of the chamber, the coffin being
unclosed, covered with wreaths of flowers and bouquets, and flanked by
six lighted candles. Originally this ceremony, like the Irish wake, was
doubtless intended to be of a highly devotional character, but it has
degenerated, by degrees, into a sort of orgie. A table covered with
viands is set at one end of the room, and close to it stands another of
still greater importance, bearing numerous bottles of aguardiente, gin,
and wine. Frequent libations to the health of the departed soul soon
produce their effect, and the family begins to express its grief in the
most uproarious manner, by dismal exclamations, hair-tearing, and
breast-beating. They address the dead as if he were still living.
"Ah! my poor darling," they say, "don't make any mistake. We are sorry
indeed to lose you, but at present you see we are preparing the funeral
baked meats for those who loved you less than we do. When they have all
got their drinks, we will return, so don't be impatient. By and by we
will howl dismally enough to please you." (_Luego te vamos gritar_.)
As the night wanes, and the aguardiente grows lower in the queer-looking
bottles, the company can no longer restrain its grief. Everybody becomes
inconsolable at once. When dawn comes, and with it the confraternities
and the cura, to fetch the coffin, they not unfrequently find the
company singing, dancing, and shouting as if possessed. And here I may
observe that the Cubans can drink more aguardiente and gin, without
showing any unsteadiness, than any other people on the face of the
earth. They contrive to keep their legs at all events, though I am
afraid they very frequently lose their heads.
Nothing more dismal can be imagined than a Cuban cemetery, which is
usually located in the most arid spot in the neighbourhood of town or
village. The Cubans never dream of planting a tree or a shrub near the
graves of their lamented, for whom, by the way, they wear official
mourning about six times as long as in any other country. At one
extremity of the cemetery invariably stands the unpretentious chapel.
In the centre is the common field, where the poor and the coloured
Catholics are buried,--no heretic being allowed to rest in this
cheerless campo santo. The wealthier among the departed are commemorated
by funereal monuments and slabs inserted in the wall surrounding the
grave-yard, which give their titles at full length, and most
unstintingly commend their virtues.
In the cemetery of Santiago, which, by the way, is one of the dreariest
fields of death I have ever beheld, there is a very interesting monument
erected to the memory of the celebrated Doctor Antomarchi, who attended
Napoleon I. at St Helena during his last illness. It is not remarkably
artistic, but is sufficiently imposing to attract attention. I must say
I felt greatly interested to learn why and wherefore Antomarchi elected
to pass the last years of his life in Santiago de Cuba. This is the
information I obtained concerning him. It seems that, shortly after the
Emperor's death, he made a tour of the world, in search of a missing
brother, whom he had not seen or heard of for many years. Chance threw
them together in the streets of Santiago, and Antomarchi determined to
take up his abode in the same town as the only other surviving member of
his family. As he had a considerable fortune, he took handsome
apartments in one of the best streets of the city, set up as oculist,
and received patients for eye diseases, in the treatment of which he
seems to have been fairly successful. He often spoke of his illustrious
patient, and described his last hours. Dr Antomarchi was a generous man
and charitable to the poor; and although he only lived a few years at
Santiago, where he fell a victim to the yellow fever in 1826, he was so
greatly esteemed that this monument was erected to his memory by public
subscription.
The friend with whom I was travelling was, like myself, an ardent
admirer of Napoleon, and ordered a magnificent wreath to be placed on
the tomb of the man who closed the great Emperor's eyes, and who, like
his imperial master, was destined to end his days in a tropical island.
In these Cuban cemeteries you may occasionally notice certain large land
crabs sidling along with a lazy air, as if they had had an exceedingly
good dinner. All I will say anent them is, that they are often
suspiciously covered with earth, and that I would not eat one of them to
save my life. The negroes, however, declare them to be of exquisite
flavour.