The Negroes and mulattoes were eyed with suspicion, and instead of the accustomed nine o’clock alarm, every hour during the night a gun from the castle thundered the terrible warning, executing the order throughout the prevailing excitement.
On one of those eventful evenings in the upper Almeda, just after the alarm of the gun, a black man who had been seen in close conversation with a white was arrested, and exhibited a “pass” purporting to have emanated from a foreign functionary in the city.
The next day the place was fermented with excitement, the highways being thronged with people eagerly discussing the subject and anxiously speculating thereupon.
Among the absurdities to which this report gave rise, none were greater than those which found their way into the Havana morning journals one of which was “El Diario,” hawked about the streets and eagerly brought up by the news-seeking population to the effect that “Dr. M——n, the British consul, having been caught, tried, found guilty and afterwards confessed to having been concerned in a Negro insurrection in Cuba, was to be hanged, shot or garro ted”; while another report had him “imprisoned,” “publicly whipped,” and “transported to the mines in Spain.”[40]
In the meantime this functionary was really seized and thrown into prison, which act threw the authorities into a dilemma much more perplexing than that of the British Consul.
Whilst the Captain General in fearful suspense was pondering with much embarrassment, and devising schemes to extricate himself from the difficulty of an almost fatal error commited by a stupid blunder, a timely relief was offered by a note received from the minister for Foreign Affairs in Great Britain, politely suggesting that the immediate and unconditional release of H.B.M. Consul for the port of Havana was desirable, concluding with that affability for which the distinguished nobleman who then occupied the Foreign Office, and other British statesmen, are remarkable. This was opportune, proving a most fortunate and happy pretext for an honorable escape from the fiery ordeal which awaited them by the terrible displeasure of England.
The first sail from Havana to Great Britain bore to the Minister for Foreign Affairs the assurance that an apology had been made to Her Majesty’s Consul for the rash conduct of two hasty officials who would receive at the hands of the government due attention for their indiscretion.
This speculation was happily disposed of, the Spanish adventurer escaped with little loss of capital in a bold and precipitious investment, though at one time the stock had considerably depreciated at the political exchanges.
The whole matter doubtless had been schemed by interested American slave dealers in the Negro brokerages of the Southern states, a number of whom may always be found in Cuba watching the foreign slave trade for the purpose of purchasing souls to drive on their plantations. It is confidently believed upon good authority that the American steamers plying between Havana and New Orleans, as a profitable part of their enterprise, are actively engaged in the slave trade between the two places.[41] These facts, though seen and known by all employees and passengers of such vessels, are supposed to be a legal traffic of masters removing their slaves.
The excitement consequent to the arrest and the imprisonment of the British Consul had not yet ceased throbbing in the public heart when a new issue was made of an entirely different character. In this speculators and political jobbers might with impunity make the most reckless investments without a fear of loss, the article being a home commodity.
One evening while the Captain General and lady sat musing on the rear corridor of the palace, a gentleman, who subsequently proved to be a loyalist and one of the first persons of education and wealth, came with hurried steps to the door where meeting a guard, enquired for his excellency, who being apprised, immediately repaired to the antechamber.
“Has your excellency heard the news?” with quick breathing, inquired the gentleman.
“Of what import; señor?” asked the Captain General.
“Concerning the insurrection, sir!” replied he with evident fatigue by the hurry of his errand.
“Which one of them señor?” replied his excellency. “Since rumor recently has been so abundant in her productions of insurrectionary reports, we must be certain before proceeding to an investigation, what we have before us.”
“The last one, your excellency,” seriously said the gentleman.
“Ah! Then that one has been happily settled to the honor of our country. The Consul has been released, an apology made, the British Government reconciled, and Spain satisfied.”
“Your excellency,” with surprise replied the man, “I have no reference whatever to that affair, but something more recent.”
“Ah!” again exclaimed the governor gravely, “I thought you had reference to that, since it is the last of which I had any knowledge.”
“May it please your excellency!” anxiously importuned the gentleman. “The intelligence of this has just come to light.”
“Indeed!” responded he in a manner which greatly embarrassed the messenger. “How many plantations sacked and what the number of whites killed?”
“Your excellency,” impatiently replied the bearer of dispatches, inwardly feeling what he dared not outwardly express, “it has not yet come to a strike, but has been discovered in the plot.”
“Yes, yes! That materially alters the case,” indifferently continued the Count. “Like all the others it may only exist in the imagination of those who fabricate and vend these alarms for political purposes, keeping the public mind in a continual state of uneasiness and excitement.”
“I hope that your Excellency does not mistake me?” in a subdued tone enquired the disheartened loyalist. “I am no political newsdealer, huckstering gossip for speculative purposes. I am chairman of a delegation of the proprietors of large estates near Matanzas, appointed as a messenger and bearer of despatches to communicate with the government.”
“Ah ha! Something new in reality then?” with some anxiety enquired the governor. “What is the true state of the case?”
The gentleman at once proceeded to relate the facts that some thirty miles in the interior from Matanzas, the wife of a respectable planter had doubtless from impressions made upon her mind by the reality, become a maniac, making the most startling disclosures. An insurrection was to have commenced on their own plantation, she having been a party to the scheme. Talking incessantly, she raved and screamed, frequently startled, calling for a black chief to protect her. When to dispel the phantom a black girl child had to be placed in her bed, with the assurance that it was the child of the Negro chief sent in advance of him, when she immediately became quiet and apparently reconciled. She had imagined herself in a horrible seclusion or cave surrounded by black serpents, when being attacked by a huge monstrous serpent, was only protected from certain death by the timely interposition of one of those divine black spirits.
“How long has she been thus affected?” enquired the Captain General after patiently hearing the history of the case.
“During the last three days and nights, your excellency.”
“What do you desire at my hands?”
“Protection of troops–and if thought advisable, the presence of your excellency.”
“What have her physicians done in the case?” continued to inquire the governor.
“They can do nothing at all, Count Alcora,” positively replied the planter.
“Neither can I,” gravely rejoined he; “and would willingly send up troops to restore her to rationality, but see no good reasons for detailing at the bedside of a crazy woman a corps of military to frighten her out of whatever mind there might be yet remaining. As to myself, I can see no good to result from my entering the bedchamber of a maniac, dressed up in regimentals. If her greatest hallucination now be black ghosts, it would only change the illusions to white ones. You, sir, will hereby inform your constituents, that it is neither the desire nor duty of the executive of this colony to carry the national troops in battle array to divert the phantoms
of a prostrated maniac,” when, making a polite bow, he withdrew.*
The planter so unsatisfactorily dismissed, with sullen countenance left the palace gritting his teeth with a determination of being avenged for the neglect and want of care shown to his neighborhood, a loyal district.
The Count was a proud and haughty Castilian, and the planters near Matanzas generally being Americans, a restless, dissatisfied class, ever plotting schemes to keep up excitement in the island, thereby having continual cause for complaint; he hated them as only a member of the Cortez Council could do a colonial “patriot,” as the American party termed themselves.
For this contempt, however, the country paid dearly, as they made it the immediate cause of dissatisfaction and complaint against the administration of Count Alcora, and also the home government.
They complained that the Creoles had not the right of franchise, being ineligible to positions of honor the council being selected by the Captain General, and all the offices of consequence being filled by persons directly from Spain-persons whose every relation was foreign to the interest of society and detrimental to the progress of the colony. Spain, they insisted, was a foreign country, having no right to rule them. They were Creoles, and of right ought to be their own rulers.
To these complaints the Captain General, as also Spain, paid a deaf ear, replying that in general these “Creole” statements originated in the principal commercial cities in the United States, by such speculators as frequent the exchanges in Dock, Wall and State streets, backed by the brokerages of Baltimore, Richmond, Charleston and New Orleans. They had openly declared that Cuba and Porto Rico must cease to be Spanish Colonies, and become territories of the United States.
All this did the Spaniards hear and know with a degree of tolerance, patience and forbearance worthy of a cause having higher claims upon their magnanimity. But the Captain General and true loyalists were becoming impatient, who with his Executive Council were maturing a decisive course toward them.
*So frequent were these complaints to the Captain General that he often gave them a summary dismissal.
CHAPTER 72
King’s Day
It was now in January, the sixth day of the month, on the occasion of “El Dia de los Reyes,” or “King’s Day,” at Havana, to witness and enjoy which, many of all classes, both strangers and residents, white and black, had come from different parts of the island to the city.
Should the disaffected party persist in their seditious indications on this occasion, the Captain General intended at the head of an army of Negroes to put the rebels to a merciless sword.
The demonstration consisted of a festival–physical, mental and religious–by the native Africans in Cuba, in honor of one of their monarchs; being identical, but more systematic, grand and imposing, with the “Congo Dance,” formerly observed every Sabbath among the slaves in New Orleans.[42]
I am indebted for the following description of the grand Negro festival to a popular American literary periodical, given by an eyewitness to the exhibition:
“For the week preceding the sixth of January, the native African servants of Havana are in a state of intense excitement. Their masters and mistresses are begged for every spare feather, flower, bit of tinsel, ribbon, or finery of any description whatever; their pocket money is spent on the conventional trash consecrated to the occasion; and every leisure moment is consecrated to preparing for that great day on which they may at least fancy for a few hours that they are free. In all the year, this is the only day the black can call his own; the law gives it to him, and no master has the right to refuse his slave permission to go out for the whole day. At last the important day arrives; the dawn is ushered in by salvos of artillery from Moro Castle–the Negroes pour out of the city gates in crowds to assemble at the places where they are to dress–dainty dressing rooms are they–and the delicate ear is agonized by sounds proceeding from the musical instruments of Africa. They generally assemble according to their tribes. The Gazas, the Lucumis, the Congoes, and Mandingos, etc., in separate parties. One party ordinarily consists of from ten to twenty. There are about half a dozen of principal actors, and the rest hang around and are ready to do any extra dancing or shaking that may be required. Women there are too, in plenty–their dresses ‘low in the neck and high in the arms,’ covered with gay ribbons and tinsel flowers-that dance all day long for the pure love of the fun, joining first one party and then another, constant to none, and therefore have no right to a portion of the money collected.
“Their place of rendezvous on the King’s Day being the grand square or Plaza de San Francisco, called after the church and convent of that name.
“There are three principal personages that appear, with but slight variation of costume, in every group, no matter to what tribe it belongs. They are always chiefs, princes or prophets, or if these elevated individuals are not sufficiently numerous to head the numberless parties, the highest in rank is always chosen to wear the regal African paraphernalia. . . . The king is dressed in a network of red cord, through the interstices of which glisten oddly enough square inches of the royal black skin. Round his waist is an immense hoop, with a thick drapery of horsetails with every color of the rainbow, with many hues not found therein.
“Another has a hideous mask surmounted by horns. He is the prophet of the tribe, and is sometimes supposed to be gifted with magical powers–a full belief in charms being a part of the Negro’s native creed. . . . This Obesh or Jumbo butts with horns, yells, and performs various antics that impress deeply the surrounding Negroes. If a white person pretends to be alarmed at the unearthly sounds or sights, it is, of course, a great triumph.
“Around the feet of the principal performers are fastened branches of horsehair, that divide the mind between Mercury and a bantam cock.
“Placing themselves in the attitudes of kangaroos, they go through a series of shuffling, screwing, and shaking that utterly defies any description. It cannot be called dancing, for Sorocco would disown it; neither can it be called convulsions, for the doctors would pronounce them perfectly healthy. St. Vitus himself would be puzzled what to call it, though he could not but be gratified at the favor of his votaries.
“All day long they keep up a movement of some kind, either dancing or waltzing to an almost incredible degree. The parties roam all over the city, stopping in front of the principal houses, or before the windows in which they see ladies and children. They have also their favorite corners, and there they will go through with fifteen or twenty minutes violent agitation, during which the perspiration pours off their faces, and one unaccustomed to the sight is momentarily expecting to see them fall exhausted to the ground, perhaps never to rise again. The only stoppage, however, is when that elaborately dressed personage with a cane, so beruffled and beringed, hands round the box to the spectators for “pesetas” and “medios.” He is the steward of the party, and after all is done, he produces the money which pays for the room in which they hold their ball at night–all night indeed, for they keep it up till morning.
“Large sums of money are often collected in this way; and gold occasionally finds its way in; but the Negro improvidence of character makes it of very little consequence whether they have much or little. . . .
“The inside of the hall is extraordinary, but not pleasing. A piece of parchment stretched over a hollow log beaten with bones, or a box or gourd filled with beans or stones, rattled out of all time, comprise their instruments. The songs are quite in keeping with the instruments and performers. On this day they are allowed to use their own language and their own songs, a privilege denied them on other days, lest they might lay plans for a general rising.
“As it is the sights, the sounds, the savage shrieks, the uncouth yells suggest very uncomfortable thoughts of Negro insurrection. One cannot help thinking of the menace of the Spanish Government that Cuba shall be either Spanish or African, and when we see these savages in their play more like wild animals than human beings, the idea what
their rage would probably be, makes the boldest shudder. It would be easy on King’s Day for the Negroes to free themselves, or at least to make the streets of Havana run with blood, if they only knew their power; Heaven be praised that they do not, for who can count the lives that would be lost in such a fearful struggle?
“The whites of Havana are rejoiced when the day is over. Apart from a certain uneasy feeling of distrust which the government shares, for it doubles it guard everywhere, the cessation of all business, and the circumstance that the streets are not safe after an early morning hour, make one such day quite enough for a year. The tintamarre is such, that the head must indeed be strong that escapes a furious aching by nightfall. To a stranger the first few hours are amusing enough in their novelty, but he speedily wearies of the scene, and is not apt to wish for a repetition of it.
“In 1849, Roncall, the Captain General then in power, took advantage of the Dia de los Reyes to give the Creoles of Cuba a significant hint of what they might expect from the government if they gave any alarming degree of aid to the revolutionary operations of General Lopez.[43] He prolonged for three days the privilege of the day to the Lucumis, the most warlike of the tribes of the African slaves in Cuba. The hint was well understood, and many a Creole family shuddered and trembled within doors at the fearful illustration thus exhibited under their eyes of the standing threat that Cuba must be Spanish or African.
“As night comes on all the scattered parties begin to crowd back again to their starting places; they replace the paint and feathers they have danced off, and repair the ravages of the day. Let it be remembered that all this dancing has been done under a tropical sun, and that the January of Cuba is sometimes like our June, or even July. All is then wound up by a ball. The money derived from the sale of licenses for Negro balls forms no contemptible item in the income of the Queen Mother Christiana.”
Blake or The Huts of America Page 37
