On the street corner south of First National Park in St Joseph, there is a rather odd relic. It is an old bronze cannon of English make that is stuck muzzle-first into the pavement. It is a reminder of the time when the old Spanish town of San Jose de Oruna was the site of a garrison of British soldiers who had been quartered in the town following the capitulation of Trinidad to England in 1797.Indeed the capitulation treaty drawn between Sir Ralph Abercrombie (England) and Don Jose Maria Chacon (Spain) was signed in the great house of Valsayn Estate, just outside the town's limits. The settlement was quiet until 1837 when a great revolt took place among some African soldiers who were conscripted to join the British West India Regiment. Led by a giant named Daaga, the rebellion was swiftly put down and the ringleaders died by firing squad in the square (this episode will be fully detailed in an article later this year).
June revolt
Suffice to say, the affair was recounted in 1884 by LAA de Verteuil as follows: "At the north end of St Joseph's were once barracks, in which was generally stationed a company of white troops; in 1838, however, they were occupied by a corps of blacks, recently formed of Africans liberated from slavers. On the night of the 17th of June, 1838, these savages revolted, fired on their officers, and part of them succeeded in making their way eastward, in march, as they fancied, to their native country."They were met at Arima by an armed militia force, and several were killed; in fact, this attempt at rebellion ended in the death of 40 of those deluded men, of whom three prisoners underwent military execution."Then came a long period of peace wherein the town became a genteel place indeed, characterised by the fine residences and lifestyles of the oldest families in the island such as the Farfans, Agostinis and Hernandezes.
The Farfans in particular have been in Trinidad since at least the 1640s and once dominated the politics of the town in Spanish times.Of this settled existence, the famous English writer Charles Kingsley wrote in 1870:"We should call it, here in England, a village: still, it is not every village in England which has fought the Dutch, and earned its right to be called a city by beating some of the bravest sailors of the 17th century."True, there is not a single shop in it with plate-glass windows: but what matters that, if its citizens have all that civilised people need, and more, and will heap what they have on the stranger so hospitably that they almost pain him by the trouble which they take?
"True, no carriages and pairs, with powdered footmen, roll about the streets; and the most splendid vehicles you are likely to meet are American buggies–four-wheeled gigs with heads, and aprons through which the reins can be passed in wet weather. "But what matters that, as long as the buggies keep out sun and rain effectually, and as long as those who sit in them be real gentlemen, and those who wait for them at home, whether in the city, or the estates around, be real ladies? "As for the rest–peace, plenty, perpetual summer, time to think and read–(for there are no daily papers in San Josef)–and what can man want more on earth?
Delectable spot
"So I thought more than once, as I looked at San Josef nestling at the mouth of its noble glen, and said to myself–If the telegraph cable were but laid down the islands, as it will be in another year or two, and one could hear a little more swiftly and loudly the beating of the Great Mother's heart at home, then would San Josef be about the most delectable spot which I have ever seen for a cultivated and civilised man to live, and work, and think, and die in."If Kingsley had visited a year later, he would have seen his voiced wish realised when the St Joseph Constabulary (Police Station)–located on the lot now occupied by the gazebo of the parish church–received the first telegram sent to Trinidad.St Joseph has gradually been swallowed up by the urban sprawl of the East-West Corridor. No longer do children play in the river pool that once existed at the foot of "Priest Hill," and Spanish is now a forgotten language, but the quaint architecture and street names still give a hint of the rich history of Trinidad's first capital.