GRIM TALES

Evening Star, Issue 19893, 15 June 1928, Page 6

GRIM TALES

WHEN BLACK MEN RULED NEGRO REVOLT IN HAITI Of all the grim patches in the history of tJio human race, none was grimmer—or more romantic —than the struggle of the negroes of Haiti for that independence! which has now virtually ceased to exist. It all happened more than a hundred years ago, and the black men of Haiti have since shown themselves unfit to _ maintain, without American supervision, independence on reasonably civilised lines; but the very fact that one negro revolt did so far succeed has a significance that lends political as well as romantic interest to ‘ Black Majesty,’ by John W. Vandercook (says ‘John o’ London’s Weekly ’). IN THE FOREST. Towards the end of the eighteenth century the racial position in Haiti was triangular and intense. The white planters (Frenchmen for the most part) were oppressive, the negro slaves resentful of that oppression, and the numerous half-castes jealous and suspicious of tho other two main groups. To live in Haiti then was to bo sitting on a barrel of gunpowder, and, in due course, the fuse was fired by the outbreak of the French Revolution. The revolution brought freedom to tho people of France, but it did not at once bring freedom to tho negroes of Haiti. One night in August, 1793, the leaders of the black men met in the forest to plan rebellion:— “ Thunder muttered down the ramdronchcd valleys*. Sudden floods of lightning silvered the mountain peaks —and, as if born of the darkness and, the storm, a giant negress appeared in the midst of tho crowded open space, A Ion" knife gleamed wet in her upraised'right hand, her naked body was streaked with rain. “ Slowly she began to sway in the movements, of a dance regulated by some unheard rhythm within herself. It was a rhythm recognisable to all as one of the secret, unforgdtten things of Africa treasured through the years of slavery. She sang a song, a song of tho siiako gods, of old-time friends who dwelt in storm and sky and woods, and now stood ready to help or hurt, to bo won by courage, to be appeased with blood. As her voice rose to a screaming moan, a tusked boar ran headlong, blinded and confused, into the clearing. With a movement so sudden the staring eyes around could scarcely discern it, the priestess flashed her knife down. The boar, with a squeal, slashed open from throat to groin, rolled over dead. In a bowl lifted quicklv to ber the woman caught the warm 'blood. With_ appropriate incantations she handed it round the inner ring of men. Each drank and, as his lips touched the blood, swore bv the name of Papaloi, the snake god of Africa, that he would give his life if need be to the cause, of black rebellion.”

And, eight days later, announced by the rolling of 200 hidden drums, the rebellion of tho negroes broke out in all its horror. There is no space here to follow the fluctuating fortunes of tho struggle, which continued for tho next thirty years. Now the negroes prevailed, then the expedition sent by Napoleon, then the negroes. (It was yellow fever that prevailed in the end over the French expedition.) The greatest of all the negro leaders was Toussaint L’Onverture, ex-coachman and mighty warrior, who was tricked by the French under the guise of friendship, kid-

napped, and sent to Franco to die in prison near Rortarlier. Ho w T as followed by Dcssalincs, “ the African slave . . • ferocious, unlettered, who got himself crowned Jean Jacques le Premier—First Emperor of Haiti, fell into dissolute habits, and was murdered in tbe end by, nmlattoes. And then came Henry Christophe, the hero of Mr Vandercook’s story; black slave boy, stable hand, waiter, sergeant in Toussaint’s army, and, finally, the leader and emperor of his people. STATESMAN AND SOLDIER. Henry was more than a barbarian. Emperor at last—ho was crowned with barbaric pomp in 1811 —ho set vigourously about a programme of constructive administration. From Europe he imported teachers and traders. He created a currency system by declaring every green gourd in northern Haiti the property of the State, collected the crop, and put on each gourd the value of twenty sous. “To this day tho standard coin of Haiti is called the gourde.” He made a commercial treaty with England. He organised his army to a high point of efficiency. At tho same time ho established himself and his family in pomp, and built himself palaces in which tho ritual of high court life was rigidly observed. There was in his black heart that weakness for glitter, and, as time proved, the old barbaric streak of cruelty. Ho became megalomaniac and fearful, and be built himself a mighty fortress on a high hill—as if instinct told him that he would one day stand at bay. “Once Christophc, standing on Uio walls of tho Citadel, looked through his telescope and saw a negro farmer more than a mile away in a valley far below him lying sound asleep by the door of his mud-walled cottage. The King knew the man. Twice before he had reprimanded him for fdl'.ng during the stipulated hours for work. His lips drew back from his teeth Jn a snarl of sullen, senseless rage. He called for a captain of artillery and together they went into the cool, long o-allery where the huge bronze cannon were ranged behind their little window in the wall. Tho young captain, obedient but trembling, took aim, while Christopho grunted with the labour of dragging on the ropes that turned the heavy gun carriage. Tt was ready loaded. 'Henry lit the fuse and (he morning quiet was shattered with Lie reverberant resounding roar of the explosion. But the man asleep in tho sun did not hear. Tho hurtling cannon ball, superbly aimed, smashed him and his mud hut together.” SUICIDE. But Henry Christophc, Emperor of Haiti, was not to die by the hands of enemies. Still in his middle ago he was seized with paralysis, and, when tho inevitable revolution broke out and the rebels approached the Citadel, bo blew out his brains. The black Empire of Haiti was fated not to stand; and “jn Haiti now only a few remember King Christophe's reign.”