CHAPTER XXVI.

At the termination of the ceremony the Obi bowed respectfully to Biassou; then the general rose and, addressing me in French, said—

“We are accused of having no religion. You see it is a falsehood, and that we are good Catholics.”

I do not know whether he spoke ironically or in good faith. A few moments he called for a glass bowl filled with grains of black maize; on the top he threw some white maize, then he raised it high in his hand so that all the army might see it.

“Brothers,” cried he, “you are the black maize; your enemies are the white maize.”

With these words he shook the bowl, and in an instant the white grains had disappeared beneath the black; and, as though inspired, he cried out, “Where are the white now?”

The mountains re-echoed with the shouts with which the illustration of the general was received; and Biassou continued his harangue, mixing up French, Creole dialect, and Spanish alternately.

“The season for temporising has passed; for a long time we have been as patient as the sheep to whose wool the whites compare our hair; let us now be as implacable as the panthers or the tigers of the countries from which they have torn us. Force alone can obtain for us our rights, and everything can be obtained by those who use their force without pity. Saint Loup (Wolf) has two days in the year consecrated to him in the Gregorian calendar whilst the Paschal Lamb has but one. Am not I correct, your reverence?”

The Obi bowed in sign of corroboration.

“They have come,” continued Biassou, “these enemies of ours have come as enemies of the regeneration of humanity; these whites, these planters, these men of business, veritable devils vomited from the mouth of hell. They came in the insolence of their pride, in their fine dresses, their uniforms, their feathers, their magnificent arms; they despised us because we were black and naked in their overbearing haughtiness; they thought that they could drive us before them as easily as these peacock’s feathers disperse the swarms of sandflies and mosquitoes.”

As he uttered these concluding words, he snatched from the hands of his white slaves one of the large fans, and waved it over his head with a thousand eccentric gesticulations. Then he continued—

“But, my brethren, we burst upon them like flies upon a carcase; they have fallen in their fine uniforms beneath the strokes of our naked arms, which they believed to be without power, ignorant that good wood is the stronger when the bark is stripped off; and now these accursed tyrants tremble, and are filled with fear.”

A triumphant yell rose in answer to the general’s speech, and all the army repeated, “They are filled with fear.”

“Blacks, Creoles, and Congos,” added Biassou, “vengeance and liberty! Mulattoes, do not be led away by the temptations of the white men. Your fathers serve in their ranks, but your mothers are with us; besides, ‘O bermanos de mi alma’ (‘O brethren of my soul’), have they ever acted as fathers to you? Have they not rather been cruel masters, and treated you as slaves, because you had the blood of your mothers in your veins? Whilst a miserable cotton garment covered your bodies scorched by the sun, your cruel fathers went about in straw hats and nankeen clothes on work days, and in cloth and velvet on holidays and feasts. Curses be on their unnatural hearts. But as the holy commandments forbid you to strike your father, abstain from doing so; but in the day of battle what hinders you from turning to your comrade and saying, ‘Touyé papa moé, ma touyé quena toué?’ (‘Kill my father, and I will kill yours?’) Vengeance then, my brethren, and liberty for all men. This cry has found an echo in every part of the island; it has roused Tobago and Cuba. It was Bouckmann, a negro from Jamaica, the leader of the twenty-five fugitive slaves of the Blue Mountain, who raised the standard of revolt amongst us. A glorious victory was the first proof that he gave of his brotherhood with the negroes of Saint Domingo. Let us follow his noble example, with an axe in one hand and a torch in the other. No mercy for the whites, no mercy for the planters; let us massacre their families, and destroy their plantations! Do not allow a tree to remain standing on their estates; let us upturn the very earth itself that it may swallow up our white oppressors! Courage then, friends and brethren; we shall fight them and sweep them from the face of the earth. We will conquer or die. As victors, we shall enjoy all the pleasures of life; and if we fall, the saints are ready to receive us in heaven, where each warrior will receive a double ration of brandy, and a silver piastre each day!”

This warlike discourse, which to you appears perfectly ridiculous, had a tremendous effect on the insurgents. It is true that Biassou’s wild gesticulations, the manner in which his voice rose and fell, and the strange sneer which every now and then appeared on his lips, imparted to his speech a strange amount of power and fascination. The skill with which he alluded to those points which would have the greatest weight with the negroes, added a degree of force which told well with his audience.

I will not attempt to describe to you the outburst of determined enthusiasm which the harangue of Biassou roused amongst the rebels.

There arose at once a discordant chorus of howls, yells, and shouts. Some beat their naked breasts, others dashed their clubs and sabres together. Many threw themselves on their knees, and remained in that position as though in rapt ecstasy. The negresses tore their breasts and arms with their fish-bone combs. The sounds of drums, tom-toms, guitars, and tambourines were mingled with the discharge of firearms. It was a veritable witches’ Sabbath.

Biassou raised his hand, and, as if by enchantment, the tumult was stilled, and each negro returned to his place in the ranks in silence. The discipline which Biassou had imposed upon his equals by the exercise of his power of will struck me, I may say, with admiration. All the soldiers of the force seemed to exist only to obey the wishes of their chief, as the notes of the harpsichord under the fingers of the musician.