Throughout Sansay’s Secret History, and
especially after the flight from the Cape, I kept noticing the repeated praise
for the hospitality of the people of Cuba despite their extreme poverty. This sentiment is, of course, a common
one travelers often repeat even today upon returning from the so-called
“developing world” (or even the Southern Appalachian region, where the median
income is roughly $15,000 per family among rural counties). Why this constant underscoring of
hospitality as a point of reflection from our narrator(s)?
Upon
arriving in Barracoa, Mary writes to Burr, “[we] were surprised to see such
extreme want in this abode of hospitality” and further reflecting on the state
of the Barracoans despite their “want,” says “these good people are happy, for
they are contented. Their poverty
is not rendered hideous by the contrast of insolent pride or unfeeling
luxury. Thy dose away their lives
in a peaceful obscurity, which if I do not envy, I cannot despise” (107). Does she wish she envied them? In other points in the novel, Mary
expresses her desire for Clara to find “peace,” and I wonder if this helps
paint this story as a reflection on class consciousness amid trauma. Seemingly, their entire purpose for
having relocated to St. Domingo (and further justification for staying on
Hispaniola even amid the revolution) involves St. Louis’s desire to make more
money, and we see that his avarice does not lead to happiness or hope. Sansay also draws our attention to the
corrupt order of Franciscans, who are supposed to emblemize the virtues of
poverty and simplicity (the opposite of “insolent pride and unfeeling
luxury”). There are the noted
references to the “savages” and the demand for literature depicting racial
violence at the turn of the 19th century, but isn’t there just as
much (or at least quite a lot of) attention to socio-economic disparities and
what those differences yield?
As Drexler points out, we see in the Haitian Revolution a
confluence of notions of freedom: American as “autonomy,” French as “natural
right” where “liberty and equality were conjoined” (14), and Haitian as
“freedom from domination” (19).
However, I also see an idea of freedom prevalent in popular religious
teaching of the time as “freedom from temptation” or “freedom from sin,” as
opposed to the more contemporary popular notion of freedom as something like
“being able to do whatever I want.”
Is Clara, in fact, unfree by virtue of more than the
obvious domination of her husband and the label of “coquette” Mary laments a
great deal? In undeniably reflecting on the notion of freedom as it is shifting
in Haiti, I see Sansay also drawing attention to a lack or
freedom inherent in the social
caste of which Mary and Clara are a part, and while we rightly see this concept
of freedom as having profoundly less at stake than the Haitian revolutionaries,
this particular story with this particular narrative perspective seems to
wonder if freedom actually lies in economic prosperity that contrasts with the
impoverished peoples of the Caribbean.
Matt,
ReplyDeleteI also couldn't help but notice how Mary kept praising the people in Cuba despite their poverty. I really like that you linked this to the stories American travelers tell today about how people are so kind and happy in the more impoverished areas they visit. Oftentimes we long for a simpler way of life when our lives are so hectic, just as Mary seems to do after leaving St. Domingue. However, I hadn't thought about poverty and happiness in terms of freedom before. I think you make a very good point that the social caste Mary and Clara are part of actually restricts their freedom, especially because they are members of the upper class.
Matt,
ReplyDeleteI too found the question of hospitality to problematize Sansay's exploration of freedom in the Caribbean. Your question "Why this constant underscoring of hospitality as a point of reflection from our narrator(s)?" makes me think of Derrida's theorization of hospitality in his short volume of lectures "Of Hospitality." While this summary won't do Derrida's intricate analysis justice, he essentially argues that the host-guest dynamic is one of unstable power relations. Specifically, he argues that the guest paradoxically becomes the figure of power in this relationship, rather than the host. He also notes that anyone, at any given time, becomes "hostage" to another when a gesture of hospitality is made. With this framework in mind, it seems like the issue of freedom for the poverty stricken is even further reified in the social fabric of the Caribbean. In offering the guests Clara and Mary hospitality, the lower strata of people still continue to enter into a power dynamic that renders them obsequious. I think that Derrida's laws of hospitality also raise provocative responses to your idea that "this particular narrative perspective seems to wonder if freedom actually lies in economic prosperity." It seems like the numerous social galas that take place among the moneyed classes would also paradoxically blur the guest/host dynamic, and in turn delimit the experience of freedom for the affluent parties.