The cause of the great superabundance of general officers arises from nomination to a superior grade being a form of reward for political services which costs little. Every successful revolution brings with it a fresh crop of generals and colonels, as a lesser rank would be despised. I know a general who kept a small provision shop, and have seen him selling candles in full uniform. A counter-revolution made him fly the country, and for some time after he was acting as groom in some French seaport.[18] A Minister of War wishing to please a courtesan, gave her a commission in blank, which she sold for about five pounds.
President Salnave raised a common workman to the rank of general of brigade. As he had no money to buy a uniform, he began by stealing a pair of gold-laced trousers from a tailor’s shop, but did not do it unobserved. Chase was given, and the culprit fled to the palace, and took refuge in Salnave’s own room, who, however, handed him over to the police. The stolen trousers were then fastened round his neck and a rope secured to one ankle, and in this manner the new general was led round the town, receiving every now and then blows from the clubs of the soldiers. When he was quite exhausted, they mounted him on a donkey with his face to the tail, a placard with the word “Thief” fixed on his breast, and the gold-laced trousers still tied round his neck.
The great majority of the officers are in reality civilians, without any military training whatever, but they have a hankering for wearing a uniform, which is partly excusable on account of the respect with which the lower classes regard an officer.
The blacks laugh a little at their own love of gold lace. One day, whilst entering the cathedral with the diplomatic and consular corps in full uniform, I heard a negro say to his companions, “Gardé donc, blancs là aimé galon too!” (“Look, the whites also like gold lace!”), and a grunt of acquiescence showed that they were not a little pleased to find that the whites shared their weakness. “Too,” by the way, is almost the only English word which remains to testify to our former presence in the island.
Military honour has never been a distinguished feature in the Haytian army,—I mean that military honour which implies fidelity to the Government that they have sworn to serve. This was most marked in the revolution which broke out at Cap Haïtien in 1865 under Salnave and Delorme. Nearly every superior officer appeared more or less to have betrayed General Geffrard; but as they hated Salnave more, their treachery consisted in plots, in preventing successes, but not in aiding the enemy. Geffrard knew this, and so put over the army General Nissage-Saget, an ex-tailor, I believe, who was utterly incapable and as unsuccessful as the rest. Salnave could not have held his position a week had the officers done their duty; but they appeared to think only of how their personal interests could be best served, and never of the honour or dignity of the Government and country. Some entered into a conspiracy to murder the President, but being discovered, the most compromised fell on his knees before Geffrard and pleaded for mercy, which was somewhat contemptuously granted, with the remark, “You are not of the stuff of which conspirators should be made.”
There was no want of personal courage shown by the chiefs during the long civil war between civilisation and barbarism in 1868 and 1869, and some officers showed conspicuous dash and bravery, as Monplaisir-Pierre (negro) and Brice (coloured), (who subsequently were foully murdered by order of their then ally, Septimus Rameau), and Boisrond (coloured), who really merited the epithet of sans peur et sans reproche which was given him at a banquet at Port-au-Prince.
Traits of individual courage were constantly occurring, as during the defence of the town of Les Cayes, when young Colonel Lys distinguished himself. He, as all the bravest and best, has lately fallen a victim to the ferocity of the negro authorities; The Haytian, however, is not a fighting animal. Roused to fury by the excesses of his French masters, the negro of the time of the Revolution fought well, but since then many of his military qualities have departed. He is still a good marcher, is patient and abstemious; but Soulouque’s ignominious campaigns in Santo Domingo showed that the Haytian soldier will not fight. There has been little or no real fighting since; overwhelming numbers would sometimes endeavour to capture a post, but no battle took place during the civil war of 1869. The only really daring act performed by numbers was the surprise of Port-au-Prince in December of that year, and the chiefs of the expedition were Brice and Boisrond-Canal, supported by a land force under General Carrié.
The ignorance of the officers often leads them into ludicrous mistakes. A general commanding at Port-au-Prince saw a boat entering the harbour with the Spanish flag flying, and he instantly went down to the wharf. “Who are you?” said he to the officers. “Spaniards,” was the reply. “Paniols!” exclaimed he, “then you are enemies!” and proceeded to arrest them, under the mistaken idea that all Spaniards must be Dominicans, with whom Hayti was at war. It required the most vigorous language, and some emphatic gestures with his foot on the part of the French Consul-General, to prevent the Spanish officers being thrust into the common jail. The negro had never heard of Spain, although Cuba is within sight of Haytian shores.
An English admiral came into the harbour of the capital, and President Salnave sent an officer on board to welcome our naval chief. This was a black general, who, when he got on board, was so tipsy that he commenced making formal bows to the mainmast, under the mistaken idea that it was the admiral, who, hearing of his maudlin state, came to receive him on deck, and soon dismissed him. I heard that he afterwards declared he had seen two admirals on board. I knew this man well, and though a tipsy savage, was intrusted with a most important military command.
The army is legally recruited by conscription, the term of service being seven years, though volunteers serve only four; this, however, is purely nominal. During my stay, the invariable practice was for a colonel of a regiment to send out parties of soldiers, who seized in the streets any man whom they thought would suit. As this only occurred in times of danger, or when the President’s body-guard had to be completed, these captured volunteers had the greatest difficulty in getting free from the clutches of the recruiting sergeant. I have seen even deputies and senators walked off to the barracks.