The climate of Hayti is of the ordinary tropical character, and the temperature naturally varies according to the position of the towns. Cap Haïtien, being exposed to the cooling influence of the breezes from the north, is much more agreeable as a residence than Port-au-Prince, which is situated at the bottom of a deep bay.
In summer, that is, during the months of June, July, August, and September, the heat is very oppressive. The registered degrees give one an idea of the disagreeableness of the climate. In my house at Tourjeau, near Port-au-Prince, 600 feet above the level of the sea, I have noted a registering thermometer marking 97° in the drawing-room at 2 P.M. in July, and 95° in the dining-room on the ground-floor; and in a room off a court in the town I have heard of 103°—no doubt from refraction.[2] At the Petit Séminaire the priests keep a register, and I notice that rarely is the heat marked as 95°, generally 93.2° is the maximum; but the thermometer must be kept in the coolest part of the college, and is no criterion of what is felt in ordinary rooms. The nights also are oppressively warm, and for days I have noticed the thermometer seldom marking less than 80° during the night. In August the heat is even greater than in July, rising to 97° at the Petit Séminaire, whilst in September the maximum is registered as 91.5°; and this heat continues well on into November, the maximum being the same. I have not the complete returns, but generally the heats of September are nearly equal to those of August. In what may be called winter, the thermometer rarely marks over 84°, and the nights are cool and pleasant. In fact, I have been assured of the thermometer having fallen as low as 58° during the night, but I never saw it myself below 60°. It is a curious fact that foreigners generally suffer from the heat, and get ill in consequence, whilst the natives complain of the bitter cold of the winter, and have their season of illness then.
Port-au-Prince is essentially unhealthy, and yellow fever too often decimates the crews of the ships of war that visit its harbour. In 1869, on account of the civil convulsion, French and English ships remained months in harbour. The former suffered dreadfully; the “Limier,” out of a crew of 106 men and eight officers, lost fifty-four men and four officers, whilst the “D’Estrés” and another had to mourn their captains and many of their crew. Who that ever knew him can forget and not cherish the memory of Captain De Varannes of the “D’Estrés,” one of the most sympathetic of men, a brilliant officer, and a steady upholder of the French and English alliance? De Varannes was an Imperialist, an aide-de-camp of the Empress, and thoroughly devoted to the family that had made his fortune. When the medical men announced to him that he had not above two hours to live, he asked the French agent if he had any portraits of the Imperial family; they were brought and placed at the foot of the bed where he could see them. He asked then to be left alone, and an hour after, when a friend crept in, he found poor De Varannes dead, with his eyes open, and apparently fixed on the portraits before him. I should add that both these vessels brought the fever to Port-au-Prince from Havana and Martinique.
The English ships suffered less, as our officers are not bound by the rigid rules that regulate the French commanders, who would not leave the harbour without express orders from their Admiral, though their men were dying by dozens. Captain Hunter of the “Vestal” and Captain Salmon of the “Defence” knew their duty to their crews too well to keep them in the pestilential harbour, and as soon as yellow fever appeared on board, steamed away; and the latter went five hundred miles due north till he fell in with cool weather, and thus only lost three men. A French officer told me that when the sailors on board the “Limier” saw the “Defence” steam out of harbour, they were depressed even to tears, and said, “See how the English officers are mindful of the health of their men, whilst ours let us die like flies.” Captain Hunter of the “Vestal” never had due credit given him for his devotion to his crew whilst suffering from yellow fever. He made a hospital of his cabin, and knew no rest till he had reached the cool harbours of the north.
Merchant seamen in certain years have suffered dreadfully from this scourge, both in Port-au-Prince and in the neighbouring port of Miragoâne. Two-thirds of the crews have often died, and every now and then there is a season in which few ships escape without loss.
Yellow fever rarely appears on shore, as the natives do not take it, and the foreign population is small and mostly acclimatised. The other diseases from which people suffer are ordinary tropical fevers, agues, small-pox, and the other ills to which humanity is subject; but although Port-au-Prince is the filthiest town I have ever seen, it has not yet been visited by cholera. In the spring of 1882 small-pox broke out in so virulent a form that the deaths rose to a hundred a day. This dreadful visitation continued several months, and it is calculated carried off above 5000 people in the city and its neighbourhood.
If Hayti ever becomes civilised, and if ever roads are made, there are near Port-au-Prince summer health-resorts which are perfectly European in their climate. Even La Coupe, or, as it is officially called, Pétionville, about five miles from the capital, at an altitude of 1200 feet, is from ten to twelve degrees cooler during the day, and the nights are delicious; and if you advance to Kenskoff or Furcy, you have the thermometer marking during the greatest heat of the day 75° to 77°, whilst the mornings and evenings are delightfully fresh, with the thermometer at from 57° to 68°, and the nights cold. On several occasions I passed some months at Pétionville, and found the climate most refreshing after the burning heats of the sea-coast.
The regular rainy season commences about Port-au-Prince during the month of April, and continues to the month of September, with rain again in November under the name of “les pluies de la Toussaint.” After several months of dry weather one breathes again as the easterly wind brings the welcome rain, which comes with a rush and a force that bends the tallest palm-tree till its branches almost sweep the ground. Sometimes, whilst dried up in the town, we could see for weeks the rain-clouds gathering on the Morne de l’Hôpital within a few miles, and yet not a drop would come to refresh our parched-up gardens.
During the great heats the rain is not only welcome as cooling the atmosphere, but as it comes in torrents, it rushes down the streets and sweeps clean all those that lead to the harbour, and carries before it the accumulated filth of the dry season. In very heavy rains the cross streets are flooded; and one year the water came down so heavily and suddenly that the brooks became rushing rivers. The flood surprised a priest whilst bathing, swept him down to the Champs de Mars, and threw his mangled body by the side of a house I was at that moment visiting.
That evening, as I was already wet, I rode home during the tempest, and never did I see more vivid lightning, hear louder thunder, or feel heavier rain. As we headed the hill, the water rushing down the path appeared almost knee-deep; and to add to the terror of my animal, a white horse, maddened by fear, came rushing down the hill with flowing mane and tail, and swept past us. Seen only during a flash of lightning, it was a most picturesque sight, and I had much difficulty in preventing my frightened horse joining in his wild career.