Blair Niles
[Introductory Note] [Transcription not proof-read]
Sir Spenser and the Congo Beans
I
[111] It was years before Sir Spenser St. John permitted
Congo beans to be served again at his table. And I could never eat
them myself, never hear their dry little pods rustle in the breeze
of Bizoton, without remembered why it was that more than sixty years
ago Sir Spenser forbade them his table.
Before going to Haiti the mere name of Bizoton instantly
brought before me that whole extraordinary case, which Bellegarde
calls the "affaire Tante Jeanne." I had then
no personal experience of sunny peace with which to endow Bizoton.
I knew nothing of its association with Oswald Durand; the wistful
refrain of the little birds hovering above Choucoune's lover had
not at that time sung themselves into my heart. I knew only the
affair of "Tante Jeanne," as it was long ago described
by Sir Spenser.
The thing had been so dramatic, so appalling, that
it is easy to understand the powerful impression it [112] made upon
the Britisher who had been present throughout the two days consumed
in its trial. Although he lived for twelve years as his country's
Minister in Haiti, although he formed there many friendships, he
seems never to have recovered from the horror of that impression.
It was long before he could again eat Congo beans.
And twenty years later, reading the report of some
traveller in the West Indies, he is ready to credit the wildest
rumors of cannibalism. The traveller's tale, for example, declared
that it was a common practice to exhume and devour corpses. Sir
Spenser remembering "Tante Jeanne" shakes his head over
the great increase in cannibalism since his day: for, he adds, "feeding
upon exhumed corpses was not known during my residence." He
shakes his head, but he believes. Although even he is doubtful that
any Haitian voluntarily and seriously stated to a recording traveller
that "human flesh was fine eating, for he'd tried it himself."
Probably, Sir Spenser comments, the man was amused to test the extent
of the traveller's credulity.
With this background of wide-spread rumor, it is not
strange that my captain friend, going ashore for an hour or so,
should have come away believing that only the lack of opportunity
had prevented his heart's being cut out and eaten. Such has been
[113] the stigma that has persistently clung to Haiti. And in the
story of "Tante Jeanne" lies the grain of truth at the
bottom of the cruelty of fantastic exaggeration.
The slaves imported from Africa had come from the
Gold Coast, the Ivory Coast, the Coast of Angola and the Slave Coast;
all the way from the Gulf of Guinea to the Cape of Good Hope. They
represented most of the tribes of that dark and mysterious continent.
Some were said to be the descendants of Jews mixed
with negroes. These were tall, well built men whose features had
a Caucasion cast and whose language was clearly Semitic in character.
Many had a Mohammedan tradition dating from the eighth century when
Islam had invaded the Soudanese zone. Still others were the people
of Dahomey; bringing to Haiti their belief in one supreme being
called Mahon. Mahon had created the universe, and then set up between
himself and his creatures a hierarchy of Voodoo spirits. And Mahon
was materialized in the serpent. Of the Congos who came, some had
been touched, not only by the influence of Islam, but by the the
Catholicism of those Portuguese who were the first explorers of
Africa.
The new beliefs were grafted upon the pervading animism
of the black, who felt himself to be ever [114] surrounded by spirit;
convinced that in all the forces of nature, in all beings filled
with visible or latent life there existed a dynamic spirit, "capable
of acting of and for itself."
These things were told me by my friend Dr. Price-Mars,
as I sat stroking a polish almond-shaped stone which had once been
an ax-head; belonging centuries ago to one of those aborigines who
Columbus described as "so timid that a thousand of them would
not oppose three of us … and thus very well fitted to be governed
and set to work." He thought they might even be taught to "wear
clothes and to adopt our customs." But the poor things had
not lived to do much adopting of customs, or wearing of clothes,
having been so thoroughly set to work by the Spaniards as to be
soone exterminated by the cruelty of their labors.
They had been replaced by those tribes from the Soudan,
from Dahomey, from Senegal, and the Congo of which Dr. Price-Mars
had been telling me, as I sat stroking the stone ax-head which was
of so velvet a smoothness and so delicately slender a shape.
Dr. Price-Mars was himself of an ebony unrelieved
by any drop of white blood. A Haitian acquaintance had told me that
he was the "direct descendant of an African prince, and proud
of it." As such, he had thought much of all these matters,
and he had [115] achieved not only knowledge, but a philosophy,
full of humor and good will, in which there was apparently no shadow
of prejudice.
It was Dr. Price-Mars who taught me to see that, notwithstanding
the fusion of tribes and of beliefs in Haiti, you may observe as
you travel about the island that there are still distinct differences
among the peasants. The powerful glossy black men and women who
are of the Mohammedan traditions of north Africa are conspicuously
different. In other types you may see here and there a tribe mark;
and ifyou keep your eyes open, you may detect a Voodoo sign scrawled
on a door; a Voodoo charm hung about a child’s neck; a dead
fowl suspended in the foliage of a wayside bush.
The stone ax-head lying all this time in my palm,
Dr. Price-Mars used to make concrete the idea of animism. "The
peasants," he said, "believe that a spirit livesin that
stone. For this reason it was kept among the venerated objects on
the altar of one of their Voodoo temples; kept beside a copy of
the Catholic Bible."
This is the mosaic of Africa in Haiti; all the elements
of that great shadowy Africa strangely transplanted to the little
island which rises blue out of the sea; diverse peoples brought
against their will and set down there, to make a new life in a far
place.
[116] The Atlantic was for them a River Styx, over
which they voyaged never to return. What it meant to them they came
to express in proverbs. Their idea of ultimate distance was Guinea:
while in their "Behind us, likes Guinea" is revealed a
profound psychological truth of which they themselves seemed gropingly
conscious.
Behind them was Guinea, and as in that distant Guinea,
there are certain cannibal tribes, it was inevitable that, along
with everything else, the inheritance of that custom also should
have come to Haiti; inevitable that there should have been sporadic
cases. That they could never had been frequent seems an equally
logical deduction; for the French Colonials, having paid a high
price for their slaves, would certainly not have tolerated their
devouring each other! Cannibalism must therefore always have been
extremely rare. Yet,, that it ever occurred is the sorest spot for
the Haitian in all his tragic history. Even Sir Spenser concedes
their profound humiliation.
Dr. Price-Mars did not allude to the subject of cannibalism
but he made for me the background of that confused medley of tribal
customs, of native and exotic faiths, so bewilderingly assembled
in the island of Haiti. And into that background, cannibalism fitted,
taking its place in a just proportion; without the distortion of
exaggeration.
[117] Sir Spencer St. John had had his training under
Sir James Brook, the first British Rajah of Sarawak. He must accordingly
have been familiar with head-hunting, for in those days it was the
outdoor sport of the Dyaks. Even now, in our own time, it is not
entirely abolished, for I have sat often in the place of honor in
a Dyak communal house; and the place of honor is under the cluster
of dried and blackened human heads. While among our canoe-men was
a gorgeous copper savage who but the previous week had "taken"
four heads. He gave us a pantomime representation of his method.
So, Sir Spenser must in his time, have played a part
in the Rajah’s crusade to do away with head-hunting. But head-hunting
seems not to have made upon him any deep and shuddering impression,
such as that which led him years later to shake a credulous head
over the fantastic reports of the nameless traveller in Haiti.
It is as though the negroes’ facility of dramatization
had reacted fatally against themselves; perpetuating and magnifying
bizarre tales – tales of cannibals.
II
The court sat in February. In Port-au-Prince that
is the month when the countless yellow pods of the tchia-tchia
trees are rattling in the wind; [118] when the flamboyant trees
have shed their flaming blossoms; and just before the pendant green
fruit of the mangoes have begun the golden alchemy of ripening.
These things were the same in the year 1925 as in that February
of 1863 when, under the command of President Geffrard, the court
sat to consider the case of "Tante Jeanne."
All who had been implicated in the affair were present;
all, that is, except the child Claircine.
There was the man, Pellé, who having been servant
to a gentleman, had conceived the idea of rising in the world. There
was Jeanne Pellé, his sister, known as "Tante Jeanne";
who was also a high priestess - a Mamaloi - in the Voodoo
sect. And in the dock with them were the two Papalois,
Julien Nicholas and Floréal Apollon. In their capacitiy of
medicine-men of rank, both had been consulted by Jeanne concerning
this serious problem of realizing for Pellé his ambitions.
The lesser characters implicated were, Guerrier François,
Neréide François, Beyard Prosper, and the young woman,
Roséide Sumera.
All were residents of the village of Bizoton; some
had been house-servants to foreigners; others had been gardeners
or washerwomen.
To their trial in the criminal court there came Spenser
St. John; following the proceedings, as he says, "in the most
minute particulars."
This was a trial instigated, not by some shocked [119]
foreigner like Sir James Brooke, with reform in his heart, but by
the Haitians themselves. It was the Haitian police who had secured
the evidence, and a Haitian Judge who presided over the court. Sir
Spenser says that never had he been present at a case where a judge
conducted himself with greater dignity and courage. Yet the rulers
of Haiti were at that time but sixty years removed from slavery.
And the tale of that which was laid bare in the court
must be told, because without it this impressionist picture of Haiti
would be incomplete. In the amazingly impartial history which Bellegarde
has compiled for the children of Haiti he too has conisdered it
necessary to include this case. His Petite Histoire D'Haiti
in its rose-colored paper cover is before me as I write. The lessons
are arranged in catechism form. And here is question five, of the
thirty-fourth lesson:
"Que savez-vous de l'affaire 'tante Jeanne'?"
The children reply, giving the outstanding details;
and in their recitation the facts do not deviate from the story
as it is related by Sir Spenser.
"On the heights of Bizoton," the young voices
are taught to reply, "there lived, in a solitude suitable to
the practice of criminal customs, the family called Pellé.
This ignorant family was addicted to those abominable forms of sorcery
which lead often to cannibalism ... It is probably that these [120]
Pellés were descendants of the cannibal tribe of Mondongues.
Of this family the two principal members were Jeanne and Pellé,
her brother----"
Thus the childish voices are instructed to relate
the tale, Congo beans and all.
It has thus been admitted to history. And yet it is
as something more than history that it seems to me important. It
is important because symbolic of the staggering difficulty of that
problem which Fate has set for little Haiti.
"Free yourselves!" Fate commanded ...
And they had obeyed, making the impossible come true.
"Now, create a civilized nation" - Fate
is always thus insatiable - "Create now a civilized nation."
"Ah, but that is the supreme difficulty!"
"No matter. Create ...."
It is of that effort that the case of "Tante
Jeanne" is symbolic. And understanding it we can never again
be guilty of what the Haitian writer Haitian writer Hannibal Price
calls "achieving civilisation ... and then pulling the ladder
up after us"!
With Sir Spenser, then, we listen to the story of
the aspirations of Pellé, as they were recounted in the court,
Pellé being thus possessed by ambition [121] and having consulted
his sister, Jeanne, the priestess, and she, in turn, having conferred
with the two Papalois, all had agreed that the loftines
of Pellé's aims demanded sacrifice more important than that
of a white cock or a white goat.
It demanded the "goat without horns." And
the little twelve-year-old Claircine, the niece of Pellé
and of Jeanne, was selected as the victim.
Sir Spenser writers that in the Haiti of those days,
the French procedure was followed in the courts; witnesses being
"bullied, cajoled and cross-questioned." Under this method
everyghastly detail was brought out, to remain for so many years
a horror in the mind of Sir Spenser.
It began with that December morning in the dry season
of the year 1863, under the Presidency of General Geffrard, when
Jeanne had persuaded Claircine's mother to go with her into Port-au-Prince;
leaving the child at home with Pellé.
The two women had, of course, walked along the sun-bright
road from Bizoton to the Port; walking with the habitual easy erect
grace of the Haitian peasant. Perhaps they had carried, perfectly
balanced on their heads, baskets of fruits or vegetables to be sold
in the market. But as the two sisters walked that road following
the azure curve of the bay, of what could they have talked? What
would Jeanne have had to say that morning to the mother [122] of
Claircine? Knowing, as she did, that Pellé had been left
to decoy the little girl to the house of the Papaloi, Julien,
who was to take her to Floréal who would see that she was
bound and hidden under the altar of a nearby Voodoo temple.
The Port is fascinating to the women who gather for
bargain and banter in the great market place in front of the Cathedral.
It was therefore evening before Jeanne and the mother of Claircine
returned to Bizoton.
Where was Claircine?
But Pellé did not know. She must, [sic] have
wandered off somewhere. He helped to look for her. But no search
revealed Claircine. It was thought therefore a good idea to consult
a Papaloi; and the Papaloi was consoling; he was
convinced that there was no cause for anxiety. The Spirit of Water
had merely temporarily borrowed Claircine, and would soon return
her. Meanwhile it might hasten matters if they burned a few candles
before some altar of the Virgin Mary.
Four days later there was a great party at the house
of "Tante Jeanne." What fook place at the party was told
by some witnesses in that court where Sir Spenser sat listening.
Claircine had been brought, gagged and bound from
the temple.
[123] Under the French procedure the witnesses had
been induced to describe the sacrifice of the child. There was rumor
of measures taken in prison to bring them to the point of confession.
None had been at first willing to speak: all believing that if they
kept faith, somehow the Voodoo would save them. But in court they
had spoken; and when the negro speaks he clothes his tale with reality.
Yes, the child had been sacrificed. Then, when all
was over, and her flesh had been placed in large wooden dishes,
the crowd had passed in procession to the house of Floréal.
Jeanne had rung a little bell as signal, that with the victim's
head carried high, they were to march singing sacred songs.
There had been two rooms in the house of Floréal.
In one of the rooms there was sleeping a woman and a girl. The coming
of the procession had waked them, and rising, they had peered through
the crevices of the bamboo wall.
What, the court inquired, had they seen, peering through
the chinks in the wall?
They'd seen Jeanne - "Tante Jeanne." They
saw her cooking something in a pot; cooking flesh with Congo beans.
Into another pot they'd seen Floréal put the head together
with some yams. He was mking soup.
[124] When all had been examined and cross-examined,
the court called to the stand, Roséide Sumera.
Were these things true?
Yes, Roséide had been present at the time.
They were quite true.
There in the court, Sir Spenser had heard her say
this, while before him, on a table in front of the judge, was Claircine's
skull, and in a jar the remains of the soup.
Roséide described how when all was ready there
had been drinking and dancing and feasting. Although the previous
witnesses had proved beyond doubt the guilt of the prisoners, Roséide
re-told the story from the moment of the sacrifice, omitting no
detail; until the very cries of Claircine had seemed to echo in
the court.
Then it was all over. Sir Spenser heard the eight
prisoners sentenced to be shot, as convicted of sorcery, torture
and murder.
Up to that moment Jeanne had never lost her cool detached
poise, but at the pronouncement she begged mercy. "Why,"
she cried, "why should I be put to death for observing our
ancient customs?"
It was market day in Port-au-Prince in the February
of that year 1864. In the presence of the great Saturday market
throng the prisoners had been [125] drawn in carts to the place
of their execution. They had clothed them in the white robes of
parricides; white robes and white head-dresses, out of which looked
faces as dark as despair.
But Sir Spenser was not of the throng which, in the
cloudless sunlight of that long ago market day, looked upon the
execution of the eight condemned prisoners. The details of that
final scene he had from the American Commissioner.
Seven of the eight, the Commissioner said, had remained
silent to the end. Only Roséide had spoken, and she had chattered
volubly and incessantly with the crowd.
Their courage had never faltered. They had not flinched.
All had died without a cry ...
The Voodoo priests had announced that although the
deity would permit the sentence to be carried out, he did not only
that he might prove his power by raising all from the dead. The
government accordingly placed troops that night about the graves,
but in the morning the bodies of the two Papalois and of
the priestess "Tante Jeanne" had disappeared. Their graves
stood open and empty.
And because of these things it was years before Sir
Spenser could again eat Congo beans.
Source: Blair Niles, Black Haiti: A Biography of Africa's Eldest
Daughter (New York and London: G P Putnam's Sons, The Knickerbocker
Press, 1926), pp111-25.
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