diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/63102-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63102-0.txt | 14842 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 14842 deletions
diff --git a/old/63102-0.txt b/old/63102-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6747a75..0000000 --- a/old/63102-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14842 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Two years in the French West Indies, by Lafcadio Hearn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Two years in the French West Indies - -Author: Lafcadio Hearn - -Illustrator: Arthur W. Rushmore - -Release Date: September 2, 2020 [EBook #63102] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO YEARS IN THE FRENCH WEST INDIES *** - - - - -Produced by Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images -generously made available by Hathi Trust.) - - - - - - -TWO YEARS -IN THE -FRENCH WEST INDIES - -BY - -LAFCADIO HEARN - -_AUTHOR OF "CHITA" ETC._ - -WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS FROM -PHOTOGRAPHS BY ARTHUR W. RUSHMORE -AND DRAWINGS BY MARIE ROYLE - -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - -NEW YORK AND LONDON - -1923 - - -[Illustration: LA MONTAGNE PELÉE -"..._Its slopes undulating against the north sky,--and -the strange jagging of its ridges,... an extravaganza -of lava-shapes overpitching and cascading into sea -and plain._"] - - -À MON CHER AMI - -LÉOPOLD ARNOUX - -NOTAIRE À SAINT PIERRE, MARTINIQUE - - - - -_Souvenir de not promenades,--de nos voyages,--de nos causeries,--des -sympathies échangées,--de tout le charme d'une amitié -inaltérable et inoubliable,--de tout ce qui parle à -l'âme au doux Pays des Revenants._ - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - -CONTENTS - -A Midsummer Trip to the Tropics -Martinique Sketches:-- -I. Les Porteuses -II. La Grande Anse -III. Un Revenant -IV. La Guiablesse -V. La Vérette -VI. Les Blanchisseuses -VII. La Pelée -VIII. "Ti Canotié -IX. La Fille de Couleur -X. Bête-ni-pié -XI. Ma Bonne -XII. "Pa combiné, chè!" -XIII. Yé -XIV. Lys -XV. Appendix:--Some Creole Melodies - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - -La Montagne Pelée -Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas -Old Sugar Mill, St. Kitts -Belle Fontaine, Martinique -St. Pierre To-day -Suzanne -Cimetière du Mouillage, St. Pierre -Road to Morne Rouge -St. Pierre--Street Among the Ruins -The Empress Josephine -The Quay, Bridgetown -Bridgetown, Barbadoes -Country Road, Barbadoes -The Lion or Gun Hill, Barbadoes -The Devil's Door, Martinique -The Road to St. Pierre -Fort-de-France -Les Porteuses -Cathedral, Fort-de-France -Home from Market, St. Pierre -Le Calvaire -A Wayside Shrine -Pitons du Carbet -Fort-de-France -Les Blanchisseuses -La Pelée -The Cathedral, St. Pierre -Ruins, St. Pierre -Armistice Day, Fort-de-France -Market, Fort-de-France -Creole Women -Didier Springs - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -FOREWORD - - -"CA-ARMINE! Carmine!" - -"Oui, madame!" - -"Petit garçon, venez donc!" - -The high piping quaver of Madame Hardy's voice followed by the soft -padding sound of bare feet on the tile flagging, the cooing of pigeons -in the cote in the court below, the ever-present cool gurgling sound of -the fountain splashing in the pool, are the only sounds that break the -somnolence of midday in Le Grand Hotel de la Paix. The soft caress of -the trade winds that careen the palm crests bears the breath of the -vanilla blossoms and bougainvillea that festoon the rail of the balcony. -A pair of lizards, flashes of green flame, chase each other in the white -noon sunshine, or freeze into immobility in a moment of alarm. The shops -are closed for siesta and the whole town dozes away the golden hours -from eleven till two. There is no hurry. To-morrow will be time enough. -_Le bon Dieu_ is prodigal with his sunshine and rain. Food is to be had -for the picking. A thatch is shelter enough and clothes are but a -convention, not a necessity. Surely there is no hurry! _Mais non, -missie!_ - -So we found life in Fort-de-France, Martinique. The same childlike, -care-free, laughing spirit that so wholly captivated the artist soul of -Hearn four decades since weaves its spell about the traveler of to-day. - -Since those happy days a generation ago that he described with such -lyric grace the world at large has changed, become smaller, more -disillusioned, and in the island itself an occasional hurricane and the -terrible disaster of St. Pierre in 1902 have wrought havoc unspeakable; -yet the buoyant hearts of these Creole folk sing as of yore, among the -flower-decked ruins of the city that Hearn loved so well, the new St. -Pierre that lies under the brooding shadow of Mt. Pelée. - -Change comes slowly in the tropics. Nature's prodigality is no great -incentive to ambition and one finds in this wrinkled emerald of an -island set in a sparkling sapphire sea welcome relief from the stress of -our northern life with its insistent activity. It is as though one were -in a great greenhouse; the crowding mountain sides are rank with -exuberant greenery. Every ravine has its bounding rivulet of crystal -water gleaming like a silver thread woven into the rich pattern of -verdure. Constant breezes temper the heat and frequent short showers -wash the air free of dust. The atmosphere is brilliant, as Hearn painted -it. - -The same people are there--French, Madagascans, Caribs, Senegalese, -Chinese, Portuguese--all mingled in a Creole type different from any and -bearing qualities of all. Tall, slim, graceful, especially the women, -with lovely heads, thin lipped and deep eyed, with skins of every -conceivable shade of white, yellow, brown, and red. Long waving raven -hair tied smartly in their bright "madrases," with little clothing to -hamper them, they are the picture of grace. They still wear the -"Josephine" gown, the vast flowing skirts of which they gather up and -tuck under their arms to-day exactly as Hearn described. - -We visited again and again the grim ruin of St. Pierre, now overgrown -with a rank growth of flowers and vines, a sorry spectacle. High on the -cliff above the town, dominating the scene of ruin, stands the lovely -marble statue of the Virgin, all that remained intact in the great -cathedral that fateful day. - -The peculiar nature of the devastating wave of steam and red-hot gas -which wiped out thirty thousand people in a few minutes, left the front -and rear walls standing and crushed and demolished the side walls of the -stone buildings which made up the greater portion of the city. These -walls, battered and crumbling, still stand, mute evidence of the city's -size and former beauty. Within these standing walk new homes are -springing up, giving a weird effect as though in this fecund climate the -very houses were coming back to life. - -The roads which thread the island like a net are constantly cared for. -Winding in and out and ever upward to dizzy heights, they lead through -impenetrable jungle, thickets of bamboo and giant tree ferns, affording -from occasional open spaces glimpses of shadowy ravines and bounding -torrents hemmed in by farther peaks in serried ranks that beggar -description, descending again toward the western side through mile upon -mile of soft gray-green waving cane, till one comes at last to the blue -Atlantic beating itself into froth upon the sands at Trinité. - -French k the only language--a Creole French different from any on earth, -sweet and musical to listen to. The innate courtesy one meets -everywhere, even in the interior where strangers are rare, is most -delightful. One shakes hands with everyone one meets, though it be a -half dozen times in a forenoon, and even the smallest purchase cannot be -made without an exchange of courtesies that would do credit to a -diplomat. Along the country roads the women carriers with huge panniers -on their heads will always greet you in their soft, high-keyed voices -with, "Bon jou', missie," that lingers like a sweet savor and prejudices -one forever in favor of these pleasant folk. - -The numerous illustrations and thumbnail sketches in the present volume -are from photographs taken during our wanderings in Martinique and other -islands of the Antilles. They give some hint of the alluring beauty that -greets one on every hand. The passing years seem powerless to change the -simple character of these ease-loving Creole folk or the green islets of -which they are so justly proud. - -We sailed away eventually with our minds and hearts full of many new and -delightful friendships and a great yearning to stay, or at least to some -day be a "revenant" and come back to this lovely island that Hearn has -immortalized in the pages that follow. - - -ARTHUR W. RUSHMORE. - -FORT-DE-FRANCE -Martinique, F. W. I. -_December, 1922_ - - - - -PREFACE - - -During a trip to the Lesser Antilles in the summer of 1887, the writer -of the following pages, landing at Martinique, fell under the influence -of that singular spell which the island has always exercised upon -strangers, and by which it has earned its poetic name,--_Le Pays des -Revenants._ Even as many another before him, he left its charmed shores -only to know himself haunted by that irresistible regret,--unlike any -other,--which is the enchantment of the land upon all who wander away -from it. So he returned, intending to remain some months; but the -bewitchment prevailed, and he remained two years. - -Some of the literary results of that sojourn form the bulk of the -present volume. Several, or portions of several, papers have been -published in HARPER'S MAGAZINE; but the majority of the sketches now -appear in print for the first time. - -The introductory paper, entitled "A Midsummer Trip to the Tropics," -consists for the most part of notes taken upon a voyage of nearly three -thousand miles, accomplished in less than two months. During such hasty -journeying it is scarcely possible for a writer to attempt anything more -serious than a mere reflection of the personal experiences undergone; -and, in spite of sundry justifiable departures from simple note-making, -this paper is offered only as an effort to record the visual and -emotional impressions of the moment. - -My thanks are due to Mr. William Lawless, British Consul at St. Pierre, -for several beautiful photographs, taken by himself, which have been -used in the preparation of the illustrations. - -L.H. - -_Philadelphia, 1889._ - - - - -[Illustration] - - - -A TRIP TO -THE TROPICS - -[Illustration] - - -[Illustration: Sketch Map showing -the places mentioned, -in TWO YEARS IN THE -FRENCH WEST INDIES -by Lafcadio Hearn] - - - - -A MIDSUMMER TRIP TO -THE TROPICS - - -I - - -A long, narrow, graceful steel steamer, with two masts and an orange-yellow -chimney,--taking on cargo at Pier 49 East River. Through her yawning -hatchways a mountainous piling up of barrels is visible below;--there is -much rumbling and rattling of steam-winches, creaking of derrick-booms, -groaning of pulleys as the freight is being lowered in. A breezeless July -morning, and a dead heat,--87° already. - -The saloon-deck gives one suggestion of past and of coming voyages. -Under the white awnings long lounge-chairs sprawl here and there,--each -with an occupant, smoking in silence, or dozing with head drooping to -one side. A young man, awaking as I pass to my cabin, turns upon me a -pair of peculiarly luminous black eyes,--creole eyes. Evidently a West -Indian.... - -The morning is still gray, but the sun is dissolving the haze. Gradually -the gray vanishes, and a beautiful, pale, vapory blue--a spiritualized -Northern blue--colors water and sky. A cannon-shot suddenly shakes the -heavy air: it is our farewell to the American shore;--we move. Back -floats the wharf, and becomes vapory with a bluish tinge. Diaphanous -mists seem to have caught the sky color; and even the great red -storehouses take a faint blue tint as they recede. The horizon now has a -greenish glow. Everywhere else the effect is that of looking through -very light-blue glasses.... - -We steam under the colossal span of the mighty bridge; then for a little -while Liberty towers above our passing,--seeming first to turn towards -us, then to turn away from us, the solemn beauty of her passionless face -of bronze. Tints brighten:--the heaven is growing a little bluer. A -breeze springs up.... - -Then the water takes on another hue: pale-green lights play through it. -It has begun to sound. Little waves lift up their heads as though to -look at us,--patting the flanks of the vessel, and whispering to one -another. - -Far off the surface begins to show quick white flashes here and there, -and the steamer begins to swing.... We are hearing Atlantic waters. The -sun is high up now, almost overhead: there are a few thin clouds in the -tender-colored sky,--flossy, long-drawn-out, white things. The horizon -has lost its greenish glow: it is a spectral blue. Masts, spars, -rigging,--the white boats and the orange chimney,--the bright -deck-lines, and the snowy rail,--cut against the colored light in almost -dazzling relief. Though the sun shines hot the wind is cold: its strong -irregular blowing fans one into drowsiness. Also the somnolent chant of -the engines--_do-do, hey! do-do, hey!_--lulls to sleep. - -... Towards evening the glaucous sea-tint vanishes,--the water becomes -blue. It is full of great flashes, as of seams opening and reclosing -over a white surface. It spits spray in a ceaseless drizzle. Sometimes -it reaches up and slaps the side of the steamer with a sound as of a -great naked hand. The wind waxes boisterous. Swinging ends of cordage -crack like whips. There is an immense humming that drowns speech,--a -humming made up of many sounds: whining of pulleys, whistling of -riggings, flapping and fluttering of canvas, roar of nettings in the -wind. And this sonorous medley, ever growing louder, has rhythm,--a -_crescendo_ and _diminuendo_ timed by the steamer's regular swinging: -like a great Voice crying out, "Whoh-oh-oh! whoh-oh-oh!" We are nearing -the life-centres of winds and currents. One can hardly walk on deck -against the ever-increasing breath;--yet now the whole world is -blue,--not the least cloud is visible; and the perfect transparency and -voidness about us make the immense power of this invisible medium seem -something ghostly and awful.... The log, at every revolution, whines -exactly like a little puppy;--one can hear it through all the roar fully -forty feet away. - -... It is nearly sunset. Across the whole circle of the Day we have been -steaming south. Now the horizon is gold green. All about the falling -sun, this gold-green light takes vast expansion.... Right on the edge of -the sea is a tall, gracious ship, sailing sunset ward. Catching the -vapory fire, she seems to become a phantom,--a ship of gold mist: all -her spars and sails are luminous, and look like things seen in dreams. - -Crimsoning more and more, the sun drops to the sea. The phantom ship -approaches him,--touches the curve of his glowing face, sails right -athwart it! Oh, the spectral splendor of that vision! The whole great -ship in full sail instantly makes an acute silhouette against the -monstrous disk,--rests there in the very middle of the vermilion sun. -His face crimsons high above her top-masts,--broadens far beyond helm -and bowsprit. Against this weird magnificence, her whole shape changes -color: hull, masts, and sails turn black--a greenish black. - -Sun and ship vanish together in another minute. Violet the night comes; -and the rigging of the foremast cuts a cross upon the face of the moon. - - - - -II - - -Morning: the second day. The sea is an extraordinary blue,--looks to me -something like violet ink. Close by the ship, where the foam-clouds are, -it is beautifully mottled,--looks like blue marble with exquisite -veinings and nebulosities... Tepid wind, and cottony white -clouds,--cirri climbing up over the edge of the sea all around. The sky -is still pale blue, and the horizon is full of a whitish haze. - -... A nice old French gentleman from Guadeloupe presumes to say this is -not blue water;--he declares it greenish (_verdâtre_). Because I cannot -discern the green, he tells me I do not yet know what blue water is. -_Attendez un peu!_... - -... The sky tone deepens as the sun ascends,--deepens deliciously. The -warm wind proves soporific. I drop asleep with the blue light in my -face,--the strong bright blue of the noonday sky. As I doze it seems to -burn like a cold fire right through my eyelids. Waking up with a start, -I fancy that everything is turning blue, myself included. "Do you not -call this the real tropical blue?" I cry to my French fellow-traveller. -"_Mon Dieu! non_," he exclaims, as in astonishment at the -question;--"this is not blue!"... What can be his idea of blue, I -wonder! - -Clots of sargasso float by,--light-yellow sea-weed. We are nearing the -Sargasso-sea,--entering the path of the trade-winds. There is a long -ground-swell, the steamer rocks and rolls, and the tumbling water always -seems to me growing bluer; but my friend from Guadeloupe says that this -color "which I call blue" is only darkness--only the shadow of -prodigious depth. - -Nothing now but blue sky and what I persist in calling blue sea. The -clouds have melted away in the bright glow. There is no sign of life in -the azure gulf above, nor in the abyss beneath;--there are no wings or -fins to be seen. Towards evening, under the slanting gold light, the -color of the sea deepens into ultramarine; then the sun sinks down -behind a bank of copper-colored cloud. - - - - -III - - -Morning of the third day. Same mild, warm wind. Bright blue sky, with -some very thin clouds in the horizon,--like puffs of steam. The glow of -the sea-light through the open ports of my cabin makes them seem filled -with thick blue glass... It is becoming too warm for New York -clothing... - -Certainly the sea has become much bluer. It gives one the idea of -liquefied sky: the foam might be formed of cirrus clouds compressed,--so -extravagantly white it looks to-day, like snow in the sun. Nevertheless, -the old gentleman from Guadeloupe still maintains this is not the true -blue of the tropics! - -... The sky does not deepen its hue to-day: it brightens it;--the blue -glows as if it were taking fire throughout. Perhaps the sea may deepen -its hue;--I do not believe it can take more luminous color without being -set aflame... I ask the ship's doctor whether it is really true that the -West Indian waters are any bluer than these. He looks a moment at the -sea, and replies, "yes!" There is such a tone of surprise in his "oh" as -might indicate that I had asked a very foolish question; and his look -seems to express doubt whether I am quite in earnest... I think, -nevertheless, that this water is extravagantly, nonsensically blue! - -... I read for an hour or two; fall asleep in the chair; wake up -suddenly; look at the sea,--and cry out! This sea is impossibly blue! -The painter who should try to paint it would be denounced as a -lunatic... Yet it is transparent; the foam-clouds, as they sink down, -turn sky-blue,--a sky-blue which now looks white by contrast with the -strange and violent splendor of the sea color. It seems as if one were -looking into an immeasurable dyeing vat, or as though the whole ocean -had been thickened with indigo. To say this is a mere reflection of the -sky is nonsense!--the sky is too pale by a hundred shades for that! This -must be the natural color of the water,--a blazing azure,--magnificent, -impossible to describe. - -The French passenger from Guadeloupe observes that the sea is "beginning -to become blue." - - - - -IV - - -And the fourth day. One awakens unspeakably lazy;--this must be the West -Indian languor. Same sky, with a few more bright clouds than -yesterday;--always the warm wind blowing. There is a long swell. Under -this trade-breeze, warm like a human breath, the ocean seems to -pulse,--to rise and fall as with a vast inspiration and expiration. -Alternately its blue circle lifts and falls before us and behind us;--we -rise very high; we sink very low,--but always with a slow long motion. -Nevertheless the water looks smooth, perfectly smooth; the billowings -which lift us cannot be seen;--it is because the summits of these swells -are mile-broad,--too broad to be discerned from the level of our deck. - -... Ten A.M.--Under the sun the sea is a flaming, dazzling lazulite. My -French friend from Guadeloupe kindly confesses this is _almost_ the -color of tropical water.... Weeds floating by, a little below the -surface, are azured. But the Guadeloupe gentleman says he has seen water -still more blue. I am sorry,--I cannot believe him. - -Mid-day.--The splendor of the sky is weird! No clouds above--only blue -fire! Up from the warm deep color of the sea-circle the edge of the -heaven glows as if bathed in greenish flame. The swaying circle of the -resplendent sea seems to flash its jewel-color to the zenith. - -Clothing feels now almost too heavy to endure; and the warm wind brings -a languor with it as of temptation.... One feels an irresistible desire -to drowse on deck;--the rushing speech of waves, the long rocking of the -ship, the lukewarm caress of the wind, urge to slumber;--but the light -is too vast to permit of sleep. Its blue power compels wakefulness. And -the brain is wearied at last by this duplicated azure splendor of sky -and sea. How gratefully comes the evening to us,--with its violet glooms -and promises of coolness! - -All this sensuous blending of warmth and force in winds and waters more -and more suggests an idea of the spiritualism of elements--a sense of -world-life. In all these soft sleepy swayings, these caresses of wind -and sobbing of waters, Nature seems to confess some passional mood. -Passengers converse of pleasant tempting things,--tropical fruits, -tropical beverages, tropical mountain-breezes, tropical women.... It is -a time for dreams--those day-dreams that come gently as a mist with -ghostly realization of hopes, desires, ambitions.... Men sailing to the -mines of Guiana dream of gold. - -The wind seems to grow continually warmer; the spray feels warm like -blood. Awnings have to be clewed up, and wind-sails taken in;--still, -there are no whitecaps,--only the enormous swells, too broad to see, as -the ocean falls and rises like a dreamer's breast.... - -The sunset comes with a great burning yellow glow, fading up through -faint greens to lose itself in violet light;--there is no gloaming. The -days have already become shorter.... Through the open ports, as we lie -down to sleep, comes a great whispering,--the whispering of the seas: -sounds as of articulate speech under the breath,--as of women telling -secrets.... - - - - -V - - -Fifth day out. Trade-winds from the south-east; a huge tumbling of -mountain-purple waves;--the steamer careens under a full spread of -canvas. There is a sense of spring in the wind to-day,--something that -makes one think of the bourgeoning of Northern woods, when naked trees -first cover themselves with a mist of tender green,--something that -recalls the first bird-songs, the first climbings of sap to sun, and -gives a sense of vital plenitude. - -... Evening fills the west with aureate woolly clouds,--the wool of the -Fleece of Gold. Then Hesperus beams like another moon, and the stars -burn very brightly. Still the ship bends under the even pressure of the -warm wind in her sails; and her wake becomes a trail of fire. Large -sparks dash up through it continuously, like an effervescence of -flame;--and queer broad clouds of pale fire swirl by. Far out, where the -water is black as pitch, there are no lights: it seems as if the steamer -were only grinding out sparks with her keel, striking fire with her -propeller. - - - - -VI - - -Sixth day out. Wind tepid and still stronger, but sky very clear. An -indigo sea, with beautiful white-caps. The ocean color is deepening: it -is very rich now, but I think less wonderful than before;--it is an -opulent pansy hue. Close by the ship it looks black-blue,--the color -that bewitches in certain Celtic eyes. - - -[Illustration] - - -There is a feverishness in the air;--the heat is growing heavy; the -least exertion provokes perspiration; below-decks the air is like the -air of an oven. Above-deck, however, the effect of all this light and -heat is not altogether disagreeable;--one feels that vast elemental -powers are near at hand, and that the blood is already aware of their -approach. - -All day the pure sky, the deepening of sea-color, the lukewarm wind. -Then comes a superb sunset! There is a painting in the west wrought of -cloud-colors,--a dream of high carmine cliffs and rocks outlying in a -green sea, which lashes their bases with a foam of gold.... - -Even after dark the touch of the wind has the warmth of flesh. There is -no moon; the sea-circle is black as Acheron; and our phosphor wake -reappears quivering across it,--seeming to reach back to the very -horizon. It is brighter to-night,--looks like another _Via -Lactea_,--with points breaking through it like stars in a nebula. From -our prow ripples rimmed with fire keep fleeing away to right and left -into the night,--brightening as they run, then vanishing suddenly as if -they had passed over a precipice. Crests of swells seem to burst into -showers of sparks, and great patches of spume catch flame, smoulder -through, and disappear.... The Southern Cross is visible,--sloping -backward and sidewise, as if propped against the vault of the sky: it is -not readily discovered by the unfamiliarized eye; it is only after if -has been well pointed out to you that you discern its position. Then you -find it is only the _suggestion_ of a cross--four stars set almost -quadrangularly, some brighter than others. - -For two days there has been little conversation on board. It may be due -in part to the somnolent influence of the warm wind,--in part to the -ceaseless booming of waters and roar of rigging, which drown men's -voices; but I fancy it is much more due to the impressions of space and -depth and vastness,--the impressions of sea and sky, which compel -something akin to awe. - - - - -VII - - -Morning over the Caribbean Sea,--a calm, extremely dark-blue sea. There -are lands in sight,--high lands, with sharp, peaked, unfamiliar -outlines. - -We passed other lands in the darkness: they no doubt resembled the -shapes towering up around us now; for these are evidently volcanic -creations,--jagged, coned, truncated, eccentric. Far off they first -looked a very pale gray; now, as the light increases, they change hue a -little,--showing misty greens and smoky blues. They rise very sharply -from the sea to great heights--the highest point always with a cloud -upon it;--they thrust out singular long spurs, push up mountain shapes -that have an odd scooped-out look. Some, extremely far away, seem, as -they catch the sun, to be made of gold vapor; others have a madderish -tone: these are colors of clouds. The closer we approach them, the more -do tints of green make themselves visible. Purplish or bluish masses of -coast slowly develop green surfaces; folds and wrinkles of land turn -brightly verdant. Still, the color gleams as through a thin fog. - -... The first tropical visitor has just boarded our ship: a wonderful -fly, shaped like a common fly, but at least five times larger. His body -is a beautiful shining black; his wings seem ribbed and jointed with -silver, his head is jewel-green, with exquisitely cut emeralds for eyes. - -Islands pass and disappear behind us. The sun has now risen well; the -sky is a rich blue, and the tardy moon still hangs in it. Lilac tones -show through the water. In the south there are a few straggling small -white clouds,--like a long flight of birds. A great gray mountain shape -looms up before us. We are steaming on Santa Cruz. - -The island has a true volcanic outline, sharp and high: the cliffs sheer -down almost perpendicularly. The shape is still vapory, varying in -coloring from purplish to bright gray; but wherever peaks and spurs -fully catch the sun they edge themselves with a beautiful green glow, -while interlying ravines seem filled with foggy blue. - -As we approach, sunlighted surfaces come out still more luminously -green. Glens and sheltered valleys still hold blues and grays; but -points fairly illuminated by the solar glow show just such a fiery green -as burns in the plumage of certain humming-birds. And just as the -lustrous colors of these birds shift according to changes of light, so -the island shifts colors here and there,--from emerald to blue, and blue -to gray.... But now we are near: it shows us a lovely heaping of high -bright hills in front,--with a further coast-line very low and long and -verdant, fringed with a white beach, and tufted with spidery -palm-crests. Immediately opposite, other palms are poised; their trunks -look like pillars of unpolished silver, their leaves shimmer like -bronze. - -... The water of the harbor is transparent and pale green. One can see -many fish, and some small sharks. White butterflies are fluttering about -us in the blue air. Naked black boys are bathing on the beach;--they -swim well, but will not venture out far because of the sharks. A boat -puts off to bring colored girls on board. They are tall, and not -uncomely, although very dark;--they coax us, with all sorts of endearing -words, to purchase bay rum, fruits, Florida water.... We go ashore in -boats. The water of the harbor has a slightly fetid odor. - - - - -VIII - - -Viewed from the bay, under the green shadow of the hills overlooking it, -Frederiksted has the appearance of a beautiful Spanish town, with its -Romanesque piazzas, churches, many arched buildings peeping through -breaks in a line of mahogany, bread-fruit, mango, tamarind, and palm -trees,--an irregular mass of at least fifty different tints, from a -fiery emerald to a sombre bluish-green. But on entering the streets the -illusion of beauty passes: you find yourself in a crumbling, decaying -town, with buildings only two stories high. The lower part, of arched -Spanish design, is usually of lava rock or of brick, painted a light, -warm yellow; the upper stories are most commonly left unpainted, and are -rudely constructed of light timber. There are many heavy arcades and -courts opening on the streets with large archways. Lava blocks have been -used in paving as well as in building; and more than one of the narrow -streets, as it slopes up the hill through the great light, is seen to -cut its way through craggy masses of volcanic stone. - - -[Illustration 07: CHARLOTTE AMALIE, ST. THOMAS -_All red and white against the green hillside; reflected -as in a mirror by the azure sea._] - - -But all the buildings look dilapidated; the stucco and paint are falling -or peeling everywhere; there are fissures in the walls, crumbling -façades, tumbling roofs. The first stories, built with solidity worthy -of an earthquake region, seem extravagantly heavy by contrast with the -frail wooden superstructures. One reason may be that the city was burned -and sacked during a negro revolt in 1878;--the Spanish basements -resisted the fire well, and it was found necessary to rebuild only the -second stories of the buildings; but the work was done cheaply and -flimsily, not massively and enduringly, as by the first colonial -builders. - -There is great wealth of verdure. Cabbage and cocoa-palms overlook all -the streets, bending above almost every structure, whether hut or public -building;--everywhere you see the splitted green of banana leaves. In -the court-yards you may occasionally catch sight of some splendid palm -with silver-gray stem so barred as to look jointed, like the body of an -annelid. - -In the market-place--a broad paved square, crossed by two rows of -tamarind-trees, and bounded on one side by a Spanish piazza--you can -study a spectacle of savage picturesqueness. There are no benches, no -stalls, no booths; the dealers stand, sit, or squat upon the ground -under the sun, or upon the steps of the neighboring arcade. Their wares -are piled up at their feet, for the most part. Some few have little -tables, but as a rule the eatables are simply laid on the dusty ground -or heaped upon the steps of the piazza--reddish-yellow mangoes, that -look like great apples squeezed out of shape, bunches of bananas, -pyramids of bright-green cocoanuts, immense golden-green oranges, and -various other fruits and vegetables totally unfamiliar to Northern -eyes.... It is no use to ask questions--the black dealers speak no -dialect comprehensible outside of the Antilles: it is a negro-English -that sounds like some African tongue,--a rolling current of vowels and -consonants, pouring so rapidly that the inexperienced ear cannot detach -one intelligible word. A friendly white coming up enabled me to learn -one phrase: "Massa, youwancocknerfoobuy?" (Master, do you want to buy a -cocoanut?) - -The market is quite crowded,--full of bright color under the tremendous -noon light. Buyers and dealers are generally black;--very few yellow or -brown people are visible in the gathering. The greater number present -are women; they are very simply, almost savagely, garbed--only a skirt -or petticoat, over which is worn a sort of calico short dress, which -scarcely descends two inches below the hips, and is confined about the -waist with a belt or a string. The skirt bells out like the skirt of a -dancer, leaving the feet and bare legs well exposed; and the head is -covered with a white handkerchief, twisted so as to look like a turban. -Multitudes of these barelegged black women are walking past -us,--carrying bundles or baskets upon their heads, and smoking very long -cigars. - -They are generally short and thick-set, and walk with surprising -erectness, and with long, firm steps, carrying the bosom well forward. -Their limbs are strong and finely rounded. Whether walking or standing, -their poise is admirable,--might be called graceful, were it not for the -absence of real grace of form in such compact, powerful little figures. -All wear brightly colored cottonade stuffs, and the general effect of -the costume in a large gathering is very agreeable, the dominant hues -being pink, white, and blue. Half the women are smoking. All chatter -loudly, speaking their English jargon with a pitch of voice totally -unlike the English timbre: it sometimes sounds as if they were trying to -pronounce English rapidly according to French pronunciation and pitch of -voice. - -These green oranges have a delicious scent and amazing juiciness. -Feeling one of them is sufficient to perfume the skin of the hands for -the rest of the day, however often one may use soap and water.... We -smoke Porto Rico cigars, and drink West Indian lemonades, strongly -flavored with rum. The tobacco has a rich, sweet taste; the rum is -velvety, sugary, with a pleasant, soothing effect: both have a rich -aroma. There is a wholesome originality about the flavor of these -products, a uniqueness which certifies to their _naïf_ purity: -something as opulent and frank as the juices and odors of tropical -fruits and flowers. - -The streets leading from the plaza glare violently in the strong -sunlight;--the ground, almost dead-white, dazzles the eyes.... There are -few comely faces visible,--in the streets all are black who pass. But -through open shop-doors one occasionally catches glimpses of a pretty -quadroon face,--with immense black eyes,--a face yellow like a ripe -banana. - -... It is now after mid-day. Looking up to the hills, or along sloping -streets towards the shore, wonderful variations of foliage-color meet -the eye: gold-greens, sap-greens, bluish and metallic greens of many -tints, reddish-greens, yellowish-greens. The cane-fields are broad -sheets of beautiful gold-green; and nearly as bright are the masses of -_pomme-cannelle_ frondescence, the groves of lemon and orange; while -tamarind and mahoganies are heavily sombre. Everywhere palm-crests soar -above the wood-lines, and tremble with a metallic shimmering in the blue -light. Up through a ponderous thickness of tamarind arises the spire of -the church; a skeleton of open stone-work, without glasses or lattices -or shutters of any sort for its naked apertures: it is all open to the -winds of heaven; it seems to be gasping with all its granite mouths for -breath--panting in this azure heat. In the bay the water looks greener -than ever: it is so clear that the light passes under every boat and -ship to the very bottom; the vessels cast only very thin green -shadows,--so transparent that fish can be distinctly seen passing -through from sunlight to sunlight. - -The sunset offers a splendid spectacle of pure color; there is only an -immense yellow glow in the west,--a lemon-colored blaze; but when it -melts into the blue there is an exquisite green fight.... We leave -to-morrow. - -... Morning: the green hills are looming in a bluish vapor: the long -faint-yellow slope of beach to the left of the town, under the mangoes -and tamarinds, is already thronged with bathers,--all men or boys, and -all naked: black, brown, yellow, and white. The white bathers are Danish -soldiers from the barracks; the Northern brightness of their skins forms -an almost startling contrast with the deep colors of the nature about -them, and with the dark complexions of the natives. Some very slender, -graceful brown lads are bathing with them,--lightly built as deer: these -are probably creoles. Some of the black bathers are clumsy-looking, and -have astonishingly long legs.... Then little boys come down, leading -horses;--they strip, leap naked on the animals' backs, and ride into the -sea,--yelling, screaming, splashing, in the morning light. Some are a -fine brown color, like old bronze. Nothing could be more statuesque than -the unconscious attitudes of these bronze bodies in leaping, wrestling, -running, pitching shells. Their simple grace is in admirable harmony -with that of Nature's green creations about them,--rhymes faultlessly -with the perfect self-balance of the palms that poise along the -shore.... - -Boom! and a thunder-rolling of echoes. We move slowly out of the harbor, -then swiftly towards the southeast.... The island seems to turn slowly -half round; then to retreat from us. Across our way appears a long band -of green light, reaching over the sea like a thin protraction of color -from the extended spur of verdure in which the western wind of the -island terminates. That is a sunken reef, and a dangerous one. Lying -high upon it, in very sharp relief against the blue light, is a wrecked -vessel on her beam-ends,--the carcass of a brig. Her decks have been -broken in; the roofs of her cabins are gone; her masts are splintered -off short; her empty hold yawns naked to the sun; all her upper parts -have taken a yellowish-white color,--the color of sun-bleached bone. - -Behind us the mountains still float back. Their shining green has -changed to a less vivid hue; they are taking bluish tones here and -there; but their outlines are still sharp, and along their high soft -slopes there are white specklings, which are villages and towns. These -white specks diminish swiftly,--dwindle to the dimensions of -salt-grains,--finally vanish. Then the island grows uniformly bluish; it -becomes cloudy, vague as a dream of mountains;--it turns at last gray as -smoke, and then melts into the horizon-light like a mirage. - -Another yellow sunset, made weird by extraordinary black, dense, -fantastic shapes of cloud. Night darkens, and again the Southern Cross -glimmers before our prow, and the two Milky Ways reveal -themselves,--that of the Cosmos and that ghostlier one which stretches -over the black deep behind us. This alternately broadens and narrows at -regular intervals, concomitantly with the rhythmical swing of the -steamer. Before us the bows spout fire; behind us there is a flaming and -roaring as of Phlegethon; and the voices of wind and sea become so loud -that we cannot talk to one another,--cannot make our words heard even by -shouting. - - - - -IX - - -Early morning: the eighth day. Moored in another blue harbor,--a great -semicircular basin, bounded by a high billowing of hills all green from -the fringe of yellow beach up to their loftiest clouded summit. The land -has that up-tossed look which tells a volcanic origin. There are -curiously scalloped heights, which, though emerald from base to crest, -still retain all the physiognomy of volcanoes: their ribbed sides must -be lava under that verdure. Out of sight westward--in successions of -bright green, pale green, bluish-green, and vapory gray--stretches a -long chain of crater shapes. Truncated, jagged, or rounded, all these -elevations are interunited by their curving hollows of land or by -filaments,--very low valleys. And as they grade away in varying color -through distance, these hill-chains take a curious segmented, jointed -appearance, like insect forms, enormous ant-bodies.... This is St. -Kitt's. - -We row ashore over a tossing dark-blue water, and leaving the long -wharf, pass under a great arch and over a sort of bridge into the town -of Basse-Terre, through a concourse of brown and black people. - -It is very tropical-looking; but more sombre than Frederiksted. There -are palms everywhere,--cocoa, fan, and cabbage palms; many bread-fruit -trees, tamarinds, bananas, Indian fig-trees, mangoes, and unfamiliar -things the negroes call by incomprehensible names,--"sapsaps, -dhool-dhools." But there is less color, less reflection of light than in -Santa Cruz; there is less quaintness; no Spanish buildings, no -canary-colored arcades. All the narrow streets are gray or -neutral-tinted; the ground has a dark ashen tone. Most of the dwellings -are timber, resting on brick props, or elevated upon blocks of lava -rock. It seems almost as if some breath from the enormous and always -clouded mountain overlooking the town had begrimed everything, darkening -even the colors of vegetation. - -The population is not picturesque. The costumes are commonplace; the -tints of the women's attire are dull. Browns and sombre blues and grays -are commoner than pinks, yellows, and violets. Occasionally you observe -a fine half-breed type--some tall brown girl walking by with a swaying -grace like that of a sloop at sea;--but such spectacles are not -frequent. Most of those you meet are black or a blackish brown. Many -stores are kept by yellowmen with intensely black hair and eyes,--men -who do not smile. These are Portuguese. There are some few fine -buildings; but the most pleasing sight the little town can offer the -visitors is the pretty Botanical Garden, with its banyans and its palms, -its monstrous lilies and extraordinary fruit-trees, and its beautiful -little fountains. From some of these trees a peculiar tillandsia streams -down, much like our Spanish moss,--but it is black! - -... As we move away southwardly, the receding outlines of the island -look more and more volcanic. A chain of hills and cones, all very green, -and connected by strips of valley-land so low that the edge of the -sea-circle on the other side of the island can be seen through the gaps. -We steam past truncated hills, past heights that have the look of the -stumps of peaks cut half down,--ancient fire-mouths choked by tropical -verdure. - -Southward, above and beyond the deep-green chain, tower other volcanic -forms,--very far away, and so pale-gray as to seem like clouds. Those -are the heights of Nevis,--another creation of the subterranean fires. - -It draws nearer, floats steadily into definition: a great mountain -flanked by two small ones; three summits; the loftiest, with clouds -packed high upon it, still seems to smoke;--the second highest displays -the most symmetrical crater-form I have yet seen. All are still -grayish-blue or gray. Gradually through the blues break long high gleams -of green. - -As we steam closer, the island becomes all verdant from flood to sky; -the great dead crater shows its immense wreath of perennial green. On -the lower slopes little settlements are sprinkled in white, red, and -brown: houses, windmills, sugar-factories, high chimneys are -distinguishable;--cane-plantations unfold gold-green surfaces. - - -[Illustration: OLD SUGAR MILL, ST. KITTS -_As the steamer threads its way among the islands one -sees these old mills dotting the cane fields like abandoned -watchtowers._] - - -We pass away. The island does not seem to sink behind us, but to become -a ghost. All its outlines grow shadowy. For a little while it continues -green;--but it is a hazy, spectral green, as of colored vapor. The sea -to-day looks almost black: the south-west wind has filled the day with -luminous mist; and the phantom of Nevis melts in the vast glow, -dissolves utterly.... Once more we are out of sight of land,--in the -centre of a blue-black circle of sea. The water-line cuts blackly -against the immense light of the horizon,--a huge white glory that -flames up very high before it fades and melts into the eternal blue. - - - - -X - - -Then a high white shape like a cloud appears before us,--on the -purplish-dark edge of the sea. The cloud-shape enlarges, heightens -without changing contour. It is not a cloud, but an island! Its outlines -begin to sharpen,--with faintest pencillings of color. Shadowy valleys -appear, spectral hollows, phantom slopes of pallid blue or green. The -apparition is so like a mirage that it is difficult to persuade oneself -one is looking at real land,--that it is not a dream. It seems to have -shaped itself all suddenly out of the glowing haze. We pass many miles -beyond it; and it vanishes into mist again. - -... Another and a larger ghost; but we steam straight upon it until it -materializes,--Montserrat. It bears a family likeness to the islands we -have already passed--one dominant height, with massing of bright crater -shapes about it, and ranges of green hills linked together by low -valleys. About its highest summit also hovers a flock of clouds. At the -foot of the vast hill nestles the little white and red town of Plymouth. -The single salute of our gun is answered by a stupendous broadside of -echoes. - -Plymouth is more than half hidden in the rich foliage that fringes the -wonderfully wrinkled green of the hills at their base;--it has a curtain -of palms before it. Approaching, you discern only one or two façades -above the sea-wall, and the long wharf projecting through an opening in -the masonry, over which young palms stand thick as canes on a sugar -plantation. But on reaching the street that descends towards the heavily -bowldered shore you find yourself in a delightfully drowsy little -burgh,--a miniature tropical town,--with very narrow paved ways,--steep, -irregular, full of odd curves and angles,--and likewise of tiny courts -everywhere sending up jets of palm-plumes, or displaying above their -stone enclosures great candelabra-shapes of cacti. All is old-fashioned -and quiet and queer and small. Even the palms are diminutive,--slim and -delicate; there is a something in their poise and slenderness like the -charm of young girls who have not yet ceased to be children, though soon -to become women.... - -There is a glorious sunset,--a fervid orange splendor, shading starward -into delicate roses and greens. Then black boatmen come astern and -quarrel furiously for the privilege of carrying one passenger ashore; -and as they scream and gesticulate, half naked, their silhouettes -against the sunset seem forms of great black apes. - -... Under steam and sail we are making south again, with a warm wind -blowing south-east,--a wind very moist, very powerful, and soporific. -Facing it, one feels almost cool; but the moment one is sheltered from -it profuse perspiration bursts out. The ship rocks over immense swells; -night falls very blackly; and there are surprising displays of -phosphorescence. - - - - -XI - - -... Morning. A gold sunrise over an indigo sea. The wind is a great warm -caress; the sky a spotless blue. We are steaming on Dominica,--the -loftiest of the lesser Antilles. While the silhouette is yet all violet -in distance, nothing more solemnly beautiful can well be imagined: a -vast cathedral shape, whose spires are mountain peaks, towering in the -horizon, sheer up from the sea. - -We stay at Roseau only long enough to land the mails, and wonder at the -loveliness of the island. A beautifully wrinkled mass of green and blue -and gray;--a strangely abrupt peaking and heaping of the land. Behind -the green heights loom the blues; behind these the grays--all pinnacled -against the sky-glow--thrusting up through gaps or behind promontories. -Indescribably exquisite the foldings and hollowings of the emerald -coast. In glen and vale the color of cane-fields shines like a pooling -of fluid bronze, as if the luminous essence of the hill tints had been -dripping down and clarifying there. Far to our left, a bright green spur -pierces into the now turquoise sea; and beyond it, a beautiful mountain -form, blue and curved like a hip, slopes seaward, showing lighted -wrinkles here and there, of green. And from the foreground, against the -blue of the softly outlined shape, cocoa-palms are curving,--all sharp -and shining in the sun. - -... Another hour; and Martinique looms before us. At first it appears -all gray, a vapory gray; then it becomes bluish-gray; then all green. - -It is another of the beautiful volcanic family: it owns the same hill -shapes with which we have already become acquainted; its uppermost -height is hooded with the familiar cloud; we see the same gold-yellow -plains, the same wonderful varieties of verdancy, the same long green -spins reaching out into the sea,--doubtless formed by old lava torrents. -But all this is now repeated for us more imposingly, more -grandiosely;--it is wrought upon a larger scale than anything we have -yet seen. The semicircular sweep of the harbor, dominated by the -eternally veiled summit of the Montagne Pelée (misnamed, since it is -green to the very clouds), from which the land slopes down on either -hand to the sea by gigantic undulations, is one of the fairest sights -that human eye can gaze upon. Thus viewed, the whole island shape is a -mass of green, with purplish streaks and shadowings here and there: -glooms of forest-hollows, or moving umbrages of cloud. The city of St. -Pierre, on the edge of the land, looks as if it had slid down the hill -behind it, so strangely do the streets come tumbling to the port in -cascades of masonry,--with a red billowing of tiled roofs over all, and -enormous palms poking up through it,--higher even than the creamy white -twin towers of its cathedral. - -We anchor in limpid blue water; the cannon-shot is answered by a -prolonged thunder-dapping of mountain echo. - - -[Illustration: BELLE FONTAINE, MARTINIQUE -_In every cove tiny villages nestle. Nets ere drying -in the sun. There is no sound. Utter peace broods -in the shadows._] - - -Then from the shore a curious flotilla bears down upon us. There is one -boat, two or three canoes; but the bulk of the craft are simply wooden -frames,--flat-bottomed structures, made from shipping-cases or -lard-boxes, with triangular ends. In these sit naked boys,--boys between -ten and fourteen years of age,--varying in color from a fine clear -yellow to a deep reddish-brown or chocolate tint. They row with two -little square, flat pieces of wood for paddles, clutched in each hand; -and these lid-shaped things are dipped into the water on either side -with absolute precision, in perfect time,--all the pairs of little naked -arms seeming moved by a single impulse. There is much unconscious grace -in this paddling, as well as skill. Then all about the ship these -ridiculous little boats begin to describe circles,--crossing and -intercrossing so closely as almost to bring them into collision, yet -never touching. The boys have simply come out to dive for coins they -expect passengers to fling to them. All are chattering creole, laughing -and screaming shrilly; every eye, quick and bright as a bird's, watches -the faces of the passengers on deck. "'Tention-là!" shriek a dozen -soprani. Some passenger's fingers have entered his vest-pocket, and the -boys are on the alert. Through the air, twirling and glittering, tumbles -an English shilling, and drops into the deep water beyond the little -fleet. Instantly all the lads leap, scramble, topple headforemost out of -their little tubs, and dive in pursuit. In the blue water their lithe -figures look perfectly red,--all but the soles of their upturned feet, -which show nearly white. Almost immediately they all rise again: one -holds up at arm's length above the water the recovered coin, and then -puts it into his mouth for safe-keeping. Coin after coin is thrown in, -and as speedily brought up; a shower of small silver follows, and not a -piece is lost. These lads move through the water without apparent -effort, with the suppleness of fishes. Most are decidedly fine-looking -boys, with admirably rounded limbs, delicately formed extremities. The -best diver and swiftest swimmer, however, is a red lad;--his face is -rather commonplace, but his slim body has the grace of an antique -bronze. - - -... We are ashore in St. Pierre, the quaintest, queerest, and the -prettiest withal, among West Indian cities: all stone-built and -stone-flagged, with very narrow streets, wooden or zinc awnings, and -peaked roofs of red tile, pierced by gabled dormers. Most of the -buildings are painted in a clear yellow tone, which contrasts -delightfully with the burning blue ribbon of tropical sky above; and no -street is absolutely level; nearly all of them climb hills, descend into -hollows, curve, twist, describe sudden angles. There is everywhere a -loud murmur of running Water,--pouring through the deep gutters -contrived between the paved thoroughfare and the absurd little -sidewalks, varying in width from one to three feet. The architecture is -quite old: it is seventeenth century, probably; and it reminds one a -great deal of that characterizing the antiquated French quarter of New -Orleans. All the tints, the forms, the vistas, would seem to have been -especially selected or designed for aquarelle studies,--just to please -the whim of some extravagant artist. The windows are frameless openings -without glass; some have iron bars; all have heavy wooden shutters with -movable slats, through which light and air can enter as through Venetian -blinds. These are usually painted green or bright bluish-gray. - -So steep are the streets descending to the harbor,--by flights of old -mossy stone steps,--that looking down them to the azure water you have -the sensation of gazing from a cliff. From certain openings in the main -street--the Rue Victor Hugo--you can get something like a bird's-eye -view of the harbor with its shipping. The roofs of the street below are -under your feet, and other streets are rising behind you to meet the -mountain roads. They climb at a very steep angle, occasionally breaking -into stairs of lava rock, all grass-tufted and moss-lined. - -The town has an aspect of great solidity: it is a creation of -crag--looks almost as if it had been hewn out of one mountain fragment, -instead of having been constructed stone by stone. Although commonly -consisting of two stories and an attic only, the dwellings have walls -three feet in thickness;--on one street, facing the sea, they are even -heavier, and slope outward like ramparts, so that the perpendicular -recesses of windows and doors have the appearance of being opened -between buttresses. It may have been partly as a precaution against -earthquakes, and partly for the sake of coolness, that the early -colonial architects built thus;--giving the city a physiognomy so well -worthy of its name,--the name of the Saint of the Rock. - -And everywhere rushes mountain water,--cool and crystal clear, washing -the streets;--from time to time you come to some public fountain -flinging a silvery column to the sun, or showering bright spray over a -group of black bronze tritons or bronze swarms. The Tritons on the Place -Bertin you will not readily forget;--their curving torsos might have -been modelled from the forms of those ebon men who toil there tirelessly -all day in the great heat, rolling hogsheads of sugar or casks of rum. -And often you will note, in the course of a walk, little -drinking-fountains contrived at the angle of a building, or in the thick -walls bordering the bulwarks or enclosing public squares: glittering -threads of water spurting through lion-lips of stone. Some mountain -torrent, skilfully directed and divided, is thus perpetually refreshing -the city,--supplying its fountains and cooling its courts.... This is -called the Gouyave water: it is not the same stream which sweeps and -purifies the streets. - - -[Illustration: ST. PIERRE--THE CUT TO-DAY -_The new town is slowly growing in the sinister shadow -of La Montagne, which seems innocent enough in its -cap of clouds._] - - -Picturesqueness and color: these are the particular and the unrivalled -charms of St. Pierre. As you pursue the Grande Rue, or Rue Victor -Hugo,--which traverses the town through all its length, undulating over -hill-slopes and into hollows and over a bridge,--you become more and -more enchanted by the contrast of the yellow-glowing walls to right and -left with the jagged strip of gentian-blue sky overhead. Charming also -it is to watch the cross-streets climbing up to the fiery green of the -mountains behind the town. On the lower side of the main thoroughfare -other streets open in wonderful bursts of blue--warm blue of horizon -and sea. The steps by which these ways descend towards the bay are black -with age, and slightly mossed close to the wall on either side: they -have an alarming steepness,--one might easily stumble from the upper -into the lower street. Looking towards the water through these openings -from the Grande Rue, you will notice that the sea-line cuts across the -blue space just at the level of the upper story of the house on the -lower street-corner. Sometimes, a hundred feet below, you see a ship -resting in the azure aperture,--seemingly suspended there in sky-color, -floating in blue light. And everywhere and always, through sunshine or -shadow, comes to you the scent of the city,--the characteristic odor of -St. Pierre;--a compound odor suggesting the intermingling of sugar and -garlic in those strange tropical dishes which creoles love.... - - - - -XII - - -... A population fantastic, astonishing,--a population of the Arabian -Nights. It is many-colored; but the general dominant tint is yellow, -like that of the town itself--yellow in the interblending of all the -hues characterizing _mulâtresse, capresse, griffe, quarteronne, -métisse, chabine_,--a general effect of rich brownish yellow. You are -among a people of half-breeds,--the finest mixed race of the West -Indies. - -Straight as palms, and supple and tall, these colored women and men -impress one powerfully by their dignified carriage and easy elegance of -movement. They walk without swinging of the shoulders;--the perfectly -set torso seems to remain rigid; yet the step is a long full stride, and -the whole weight is springily poised on the very tip of the bare foot. -All, or nearly all, are without shoes: the treading of many naked feet -over the heated pavement makes a continuous whispering sound. - -... Perhaps the most novel impression of all is that produced by the -singularity and brilliancy of certain of the women's costumes. These -developed, at least a hundred years ago, by some curious sumptuary law -regulating the dress of slaves and colored people of free condition,--a -law which allowed considerable liberty as to material and tint, -prescribing chiefly form. But some of these fashions suggest the Orient: -they offer beautiful audacities of color contrast; and the full-dress -coiffure, above all, is so strikingly Eastern that one might be tempted -to believe it was first introduced into the colony by some Mohammedan -slave. It is merely an immense Madras handkerchief, which is folded -about the head with admirable art, like a turban;--one bright end pushed -through at the top in front, being left sticking up like a plume. Then -this turban, always full of bright canary-color, is fastened with golden -brooches,--one in front and one at either side. As for the remainder of -the dress, it is simple enough: an embroidered, low-cut chemise with -sleeves; a skirt or jupe, very long behind, but caught up and fastened -in front below the breasts so as to bring the hem everywhere to a level -with the end of the long chemise; and finally a _foulard_, or silken -kerchief, thrown over the shoulders. These _jupes_ and _foulards_, -however, are exquisite in pattern and color: bright crimson, bright -yellow, bright blue, bright green,--lilac, violet, rose,--sometimes -mingled in plaidings or checkerings or stripings: black with orange, -sky-blue with purple. And whatever be the colors of the costume, which -vary astonishingly, the coiffure must be yellow--brilliant, flashing -yellow: the turban is certain to have yellow stripes or yellow squares. -To this display add the effect of costly and curious jewellry: immense -ear-rings, each pendant being formed of five gold cylinders joined -together (cylinders sometimes two inches long, and an inch at least in -circumference);--a necklace of double, triple, quadruple, or quintuple -rows of large hollow gold beads (sometimes smooth, but generally -graven)--the wonderful _collier-choux._ Now, this glowing jewellry is -not a mere imitation of pure metal: the ear-rings are worth one hundred -and seventy-five francs a pair; the necklace of a Martinique quadroon -may cost five hundred or even one thousand francs.... It may be the gift -of her lover, her _doudoux_; but such articles are usually purchased -either on time by small payments, or bead by bead singly until the -requisite number is made up. - -But few are thus richly attired: the greater number of the women -carrying burdens on their heads,--peddling vegetables, cakes, fruit, -ready-cooked food, from door to door,--are very simply dressed in a -single plain robe of vivid colors ( douillette) reaching from neck to -feet, and made with a train, but generally girded well up so as to sit -dose to the figure and leave the lower limbs partly bare and perfectly -free. These women can walk all day long up and down hill in the hot sun, -without shoes, carrying loads of from one hundred to one hundred and -fifty pounds on their heads; and if their little stock sometimes fails -to come up to the accustomed weight stones are added to make it heavy -enough. Doubtless the habit of carrying everything in this way from -childhood has much to do with the remarkable vigor and erectness of the -population.... I have seen a grand-piano carried on the heads of four -men. With the women the load is very seldom steadied with the hand after -having been once placed in position. The head remains almost motionless; -but the black, quick, piercing eyes flash into every window and door-way -to watch for a customer's signal. And the creole street-cries, uttered -in a sonorous, far-reaching high key, interblend and produce random -harmonies very pleasant to hear. - -... "_Çé moune-là, ça qui lè bel mango?_" Her basket of mangoes -certainly weighs as much as herself.... "_Ça qui lè bel avocat?_" The -alligator-pear--cuts and tastes like beautiful green cheese.... "_Ça -qui lè escargot?_" Call her, if you like snails.... "_Ça qui lè -titiri?_" Minuscule fish, of which a thousand would scarcely fill a -teacup;--one of the most delicate of Martinique dishes.... "_Ça qui lè -cannà?--Ça qui lè charbon?--Ça qui lè di pain aubè?_" (Who wants -ducks, charcoal, or pretty little loaves shaped like cucumbers?)... -"_Ça qui lè pain-mi?_" A sweet maize cake in the form of a tiny -sugar-loaf, wrapped in a piece of banana leaf.... "_Ça qui lè -fromassé_" (_pharmacie_) "_lapotécai créole?_" She deals in creole -roots and herbs, and all the leaves that make tisanes or poultices or -medicines: _matriquin, feuill-corossol, balai-doux, manioc-chapelle, -Marie-Perrine, graine-enba-feuill, zhèbe-gras, bonnet-carré, -zhèbe-codeinne, zhèbe-à-femme, zhèbe-à-châtte, canne-dleau, poque, -fleu-papillon, laleigne_, and a score of others you never saw or heard -of before.... "_Ça qui lè dicaments?_" (overalls for laboring-men).... -"_Çé moune-là, si ou pa lè acheté canari-à dans lanmain main, moin -ké crazé y._" The vender of red clay cooking-pots;--she has only one -left, if you do not buy it she will break it! - -"_Hé! zenfants-lal--en deho'!_" Run out to meet her, little children, -if you like the sweet rice-cakes.... "_Hé! gens pa' enho', gens pa' -enbas, gens di galtas, moin ni bel gououôs poisson!_" Ho! people -up-stairs, people down-stairs, and all ye good folks who dwell in the -attics,--know that she has very big and very beautiful fish to sell!... -"_Hé! ça qui lé mangé yonne?_"--those are "akras,"--flat -yellow-brown cakes, made of pounded codfish, or beans, or both, seasoned -with pepper and fried in butter.... And then comes the pastry-seller, -black as ebony, but dressed all in white, and white-aproned and -white-capped like a French cook, and chanting half in French, half in -creole, with a voice like clarinet: - - -"C'est louvouier de la pâtisserie qui passe, -Qui té ka veillé pou' gagner son existence, -Toujours content, -Toujours joyeux. -Oh, qu'ils sont bons!-- -Oh, qu'ils sont doux!" - - -It is the pastryman passing by, who has been up all night to gain his -livelihood,--always content,--always happy.... Oh, how good they are -(the pies)!--Oh, how sweet they are! - -... The quaint stores bordering both sides of the street bear no names -and no signs over their huge arched doors;--you must look well inside to -know what business is being done. Even then you will scarcely be able to -satisfy yourself as to the nature of the commerce;--for they are selling -gridirons and frying-pans in the dry goods stores, holy images and -rosaries in the notion stores, sweet-cakes and confectionery in the -crockery stores, coffee and stationery in the millinery stores, cigars -and tobacco in the china stores, cravats and laces and ribbons in the -jewellry stores, sugar and guava jelly in the tobacco stores! But of -all the objects exposed for sale the most attractive, because the most -exotic, is a doll,--the Martinique _poupée._ There are two kinds,--the -_poupée-capresse_, of which the body is covered with smooth -reddish-brown leather, to imitate the tint of the _capresse_ race; and -the _poupée-négresse_, covered with black leather. When dressed, these -dolls range in price from eleven to thirty-five francs,--some, dressed -to order, may cost even more; and a good _poupée-capresse_ is a -delightful curiosity. Both varieties of dolls are attired in the costume -of the people; but the _négresse_ is usually dressed the more simply. -Each doll has a broidered chemise, a tastefully arranged _jupe_ of -bright hues, a silk _foulard_, a _collier-choux_, ear-rings of five -cylinders (_zanneaux-à-clous_), and a charming little yellow-banded -Madras turban. Such a doll is a perfect costume-model,--a perfect -miniature of Martinique fashions, to the smallest details of material -and color: it is almost too artistic for a toy. - - -These old costume-colors of Martinique--always relieved by brilliant -yellow stripings or checkerings, except in the special violet dresses -worn on certain religious occasions--have an indescribable -luminosity,--a wonderful power of bringing out the fine warm tints of -this tropical flesh. Such are the hues of those rich costumes Nature -gives to her nearest of kin and her dearest,--her honey-lovers--her -insects: these are wasp-colors. I do not know whether the fact ever -occurred to the childish fancy of this strange race; but there is a -creole expression which first suggested it to me;--in the patois, -_pouend guêpe_, "to catch a wasp," signifies making love to a pretty -colored girl.... And the more one observes these costumes, the more one -feels that only Nature could have taught such rare comprehension of -powers and harmonies among colors,--such knowledge of chromatic -witchcrafts and chromatic laws. - - -... This evening, as I write, La Pelée is more heavily coiffed than is -her wont. Of purple and lilac cloud the coiffure is,--a magnificent -Madras, yellow-banded by the sinking sun. La Pelée is in _costume de -fête_, like a _capresse_ attired for a baptism or a ball; and in her -phantom turban one great star glimmers for a brooch. - - - - -XIII - - -Following the Rue Victor Hugo in the direction of the Fort,--crossing -the Rivière Roxelane, or Rivière des Blanchisseuses, whose rocky bed -is white with unsoaped linen far as the eye can reach,--you descend -through some tortuous narrow streets into the principal market-place.[1] -A square--well paved and well shaded--with a fountain in the midst. Here -the dealers are seated in rows;--one half of the market is devoted to -fruits and vegetables; the other to the sale of fresh fish and meats. On -first entering you are confused by the press and deafened by the storm -of creole chatter;--then you begin to discern some order in this chaos, -and to observe curious things. - -In the middle of the paved square, about the market fountain, are lying -boats filled with fish, which have been carried up from the water upon -men's shoulders,--or, if very heavy, conveyed on rollers.... Such -fish!--blue, rosy, green, lilac, scarlet, gold: no spectral tints these, -but luminous and strong like fire. Here also you see heaps of long thin -fish looking like piled bars of silver,--absolutely dazzling,--of almost -equal thickness from head to tail;--near by are heaps of flat pink -creatures;--beyond these, again, a mass of azure backs and golden -bellies. Among the stalls you can study the monsters,--twelve or fifteen -feet long,--the shark, the _vierge_, the sword-fish, the _tonne_;--or -the eccentricities. Some are very thin round disks, with long, -brilliant, wormy feelers in lieu of fins, flickering in all directions -like a moving pendant silver fringe;--others bristle with -spines;--others, serpent-bodied, are so speckled as to resemble shapes -of red polished granite. These are _moringues._ The _balaou, coulio, -macriau, tazard, tcha-tcha, bonnique_, and _zorphi_ severally represent -almost all possible tints of blue and violet. The _souri_ is rose-color -and yellow; the _cirurgien_ is black, with yellow and red stripes; the -_patate_, black and yellow; the _gros-zié_ is vermilion; the -_couronné_, red and black. Their names are not less unfamiliar than -their shapes and tints;--the _aiguille-de-mer_, or sea-needle, long and -thin as a pencil;--the _Bon-Dié-manié-moin_ ("the Good-God handled -me"), which has something like finger-marks upon it;--the _lambi_, a -huge sea-snail;--the _pisquette_, the _laline_ (the Moon);--the -_crapaud-de-mer_, or sea-toad, with a dangerous dorsal fin;--the -_vermeil_, the _jacquot_, the _chaponne_, and fifty others.... As the -sun gets higher, banana or balisier leaves are laid over the fish. - -Even more puzzling, perhaps, are the astonishing varieties of green, -yellow, and parti-colored vegetables,--and fruits of all hues and -forms,--out of which display you retain only a confused general memory -of sweet smells and luscious colors. But there are some oddities which -impress the recollection in a particular way. One is a great cylindrical -ivory-colored thing,--shaped like an elephant's tusk, except that it is -not curved: this is the head of the cabbage-palm, or palmiste,--the -brain of one of the noblest trees in the tropics, which must be totally -destroyed to obtain it. Raw or cooked, it is eaten in a great variety of -ways,--in salads, stews, fritters, or _akras._ Soon after this compact -cylinder of young germinating leaves has been removed, large worms begin -to appear in the hollow of the dead tree,--the _vers-palmiste._ You may -see these for sale in the market, crawling about in bowls or cans: they -are said, when fried alive, to taste like almonds, and are esteemed as a -great luxury. - - -[Illustration: SUZANNE -_A creole type, pretty, graceful, raven haired, with -lovely olive golden skin and wholly likable._] - - -... Then you begin to look about you at the faces of the black, brown, -and yellow people who are watching you curiously from beneath their -Madras turbans, or from under the shade of mushroom-shaped hats as large -as umbrellas. And as you observe the bare backs, bare shoulders, bare -legs and arms and feet, you will find that the colors of flesh are even -more varied and surprising than the colors of fruit. Nevertheless, it is -only with fruit-colors that many of these skin-tints can be correctly -compared: the only terms of comparison used by the colored people -themselves being terms of this kind,--such as _peau-chapotille_, -"sapota-skin." The _sapota_ or _sapotille_ is a juicy brown fruit with a -rind satiny like a human cuticle, and just the color, when flushed and -ripe, of certain half-breed skins. But among the brighter half-breeds, -the colors, I think, are much more fruit-like;--there are banana-tints, -lemon-tones, orange-hues, with sometimes such a mingling of ruddiness as -in the pink ripening of a mango. Agreeable to the eye the darker skins -certainly are, and often very remarkable--all clear tones of bronze -being represented; but the brighter tints are absolutely beautiful. -Standing perfectly naked at door-ways, or playing naked in the sun, -astonishing children may sometimes be seen,--banana-colored or orange -babies. There is one rare race-type, totally unlike the rest: the skin -has a perfect gold-tone, an exquisite metallic yellow; the eyes are -long, and have long silky lashes;--the hair is a mass of thick, rich, -glossy curls that show blue lights in the sun. What mingling of races -produced this beautiful type?--there is some strange blood in the -blending,--not of coolie, nor of African, nor of Chinese, although there -are Chinese types here of indubitable beauty.[2] - -... All this population is vigorous, graceful, healthy: all you see -passing by are well made--there are no sickly faces, ho scrawny limbs. -If by some rare chance you encounter a person who has lost an arm or a -leg, you can be almost certain you are looking at a victim of the -fer-de-lance,--the serpent whose venom putrefies living tissue.... -Without fear of exaggerating facts, I can venture to say that the -muscular development of the working-men here is something which must be -seen in order to be believed;--to study fine displays of it, one should -watch the blacks and half-breeds working naked to the waist,--on the -landings, in the gas-houses and slaughter-houses, or on the nearest -plantations. They are not generally large men, perhaps not -extraordinarily powerful; but they have the aspect of sculptural or even -of anatomical models; they seem absolutely devoid of adipose tissue; -their muscles stand out with a saliency that astonishes the eye. At a -tanning-yard, while I was watching a dozen blacks at work, a young -mulatto with the mischievous face of a faun walked by, wearing nothing -but a clout (_lantcho_) about his loins; and never, not even in bronze, -did I see so beautiful a play of muscles. A demonstrator of anatomy -could have used him for a class-model;--a sculptor wishing to shape a -fine Mercury would have been satisfied to take a cast of such a body -without thinking of making one modification from neck to heel. "Frugal -diet is the cause of this physical condition," a young French professor -assures me; "all these men," he says, "live upon salt codfish and -fruit." But frugal living alone could new produce such symmetry and -saliency of muscles: race-crossing, climate, perpetual exercise, healthy -labor--many conditions must have combined to cause it. Also it is -certain that this tropical sun has a tendency to dissolve spare flesh, -to melt away all superfluous tissue, leaving the muscular fibre dense -and solid as mahogany. - - -At the _mouillage_, below a green _morne_, is the bathing-place. A rocky -beach rounding away under heights of tropical wood;--palms curving out -above the sand, or bending half-way across it. Ships at anchor in blue -water, against golden-yellow horizon. A vast blue glow. Water clear as -diamond, and lukewarm. - -It is about one hour after sunrise; and the higher parts of Montagne -Pelée are still misty blue. Under the palms and among the lava rocks, -and also in little cabins farther up the slope, bathers are dressing or -undressing: the water is also dotted with heads of swimmers. Women and -girls enter it well robed from feet to shoulders;--men go in very -sparsely clad;--there are lads wearing nothing. Young boys--yellow and -brown little fellows--run in naked, and swim out to pointed rocks that -jut up black above the bright water. They climb up one at a time to dive -down. Poised for the leap upon the black lava crag, and against the blue -light of the sky, each lithe figure, gilded by the morning sun, has a -statuesqueness and a luminosity impossible to paint in words. These -bodies seem to radiate color; and the azure light intensifies the hue: -it is idyllic, incredible;--Coomans used paler colors in his Pompeiian -studies, and his figures were never so symmetrical. This flesh does not -look like flesh, but like fruit-pulp.... - - -[Footnote 1: Since this was written the market has been removed to the -Savane,--to allow of the erection of a large new market-building on the -old rite; and the beautiful trees have been cut down.] - -[Footnote 2: I subsequently learned the mystery of this very strange and -beautiful mixed race,--many fine specimens of which may also be seen in -Trinidad. Three widely diverse elements have combined to form it: -European, negro, and Indian,--but, strange to say, it is the most savage -of these three bloods which creates the peculiar charm.... I cannot -speak of this comely and extraordinary type without translating a -passage from Dr. J. J. J. Cornilliac, an eminent Martinique physician, -who recently published a most valuable series of studies upon the -ethnology, climatology, and history of the Antilles. In these he writes: - -... "When, among the populations of the Antilles, we first notice those -remarkable _métis_ whose olive skins, elegant and slender figures, fine -straight profiles, and regular features remind us of the inhabitants of -Madras or Pondicherry,--we ask ourselves in wonder, while looking at -their long eyes, full of a strange and gentle melancholy (especially -among the women), and at the black, rich, silky-gleaming hair curling in -abundance over the temples and falling in profusion over the neck,--to -what human race can belong this singular variety,--in which there is a -dominant characteristic that seems indelible, and always shows more and -more strongly in proportion as the type is further removed from the -African element. It is the Carib blood,--blended with blood of Europeans -and of blacks,--which in spite of all subsequent crossings, and in spite -of the fact that it has not been renewed for more than two hundred -years, still conserves as markedly as at the time of the first -interblending, the race-characteristic that invariably reveals its -presence in the blood of every being through whose veins it -flows."--"Recherches chronologiques et historiques sur l'Origine et la -Propagation de la Fièvre Jaune aux Antilles." Par J. J. J. Cornilliac. -Fort-de-France: Imprimerie du Gouvernement. 1886. - -But I do not think the term "olive" always indicates the color of these -skins, which seemed to me exactly the tint of gold; and the hair flashes -with bluish lights, like the plumage of certain black birds.] - - - - -XIV - - -... Everywhere crosses, little shrines, wayside chapels, statues of -saints. You will see crucifixes and statuettes even in the forks or -hollows of trees shadowing the high-roads. As you ascend these towards -the interior you will see, every mile or half-mile, some chapel, or a -cross erected upon a pedestal of masonry, or some little niche contrived -in a wall, closed by a wire grating, through which the image of a Christ -or a Madonna is visible. Lamps are kept burning all night before these -figures. But the village of Morne Rouge--some two thousand feet above -the sea, and about an hour's drive from St. Pierre--is chiefly -remarkable for such displays: it is a place of pilgrimage as well as a -health resort. Above the village, upon the steep slope of a higher -morne, one may note a singular succession of little edifices ascending -to the summit,--fourteen little tabernacles, each containing a _relievo_ -representing some incident of Christ's Passion. This is called _Le -Calvaire_: it requires more than a feeble piety to perform the religious -exercise of climbing the height, and saying a prayer before each little -shrine on the way. From the porch of the crowning structure the village -of Morne Rouge appears so far below that it makes one almost dizzy to -look at it; but even for the profane one ascent is well worth making, -for the sake of the beautiful view. On all the neighboring heights -around are votive chapels or great crucifixes. - -St. Pierre is less peopled with images than Morne Rouge; but it has -several colossal ones, which may be seen from any part of the harbor. On -the heights above the middle quarter, or _Centre_, a gigantic Christ -overlooks the bay; and from the Morne d'Orange, which bounds the city on -the south, a great white Virgin--Notre Dame de la Garde, patron of -mariners--watches above the ships at anchor in the mouillage. - -... Thrice daily, from the towers of the white cathedral, a superb chime -of bells rolls its _carillon_ through the town. On great holidays the -bells are wonderfully rung;--the ringers are African, and something of -African feeling is observable in their impressive but incantatory manner -of ringing. The bourdon must have cost a fortune. When it is made to -speak, the effect is startling: all the city vibrates to a weird sound -difficult to describe,--an abysmal, quivering moan, producing unfamiliar -harmonies as the voices of the smaller bells are seized and interblended -by it.... One will not easily forget the ringing of a bel-midi. - -... Behind the cathedral, above the peaked city roofs, and at the foot -of the wood-clad Morne d'Orange, is the _Cimetière du Mouillage_.... It -is full of beauty,--this strange tropical cemetery. Most of the low -tombs are covered with small square black and white tiles, set exactly -after the fashion of the squares on a chess-board; at the foot of each -grave stands a black cross, bearing at its centre a little white plaque, -on which the name is graven in delicate and tasteful lettering. So -pretty these little tombs are, that you might almost believe yourself in -a toy cemetery. Here and there, again, are miniature marble chapels -built over the dead,--containing white Madonnas and Christs and little -angels,--while flowering creepers climb and twine about the pillars. -Death seems so luminous here that one thinks of it unconsciously as a -soft rising from this soft green earth,--like a vapor invisible,--to -melt into the prodigious day. Everything is bright and neat and -beautiful; the air is sleepy with jasmine scent and odor of white -lilies; and the palm--emblem of immortality--lifts its head a hundred -feet into the blue light. There are rows of these majestic and symbolic -trees;--two enormous ones guard the entrance;--the others rise from -among the tombs,--white-stemmed, out-spreading their huge parasols of -verdure higher than the cathedral towers. - -Behind all this, the dumb green life of the morne seems striving to -descend, to invade the rest of the dead. It thrusts green hands over the -wall,--pushes strong roots underneath;--it attacks every joint of the -stonework, patiently, imperceptibly, yet almost irresistibly. - - -[Illustration: CIMETIÈRE DU MOUILLAGE, ST. PIERRE -_Under the shadow of the mountain the dead sleep as -peacefully as though nothing had happened._] - - -... Some day there may be a great change in the little city of St. -Pierre;--there may be less money and less zeal and less remembrance of -the lost. Then from the morne, over the bulwark, the green host will -move down unopposed;--creepers will prepare the way, dislocating the -pretty tombs, pulling away the checkered tiling;--then will come the -giants, rooting deeper,--feeling for the dust of hearts, groping among -the bones;--and all that love has hidden away shall be restored to -Nature,--absorbed into the rich juices of her verdure,--revitalized in -her bursts of color,--resurrected in her upliftings of emerald and gold -to the great sun.... - - - - -XV - - -Seen from the bay, the little red-white-and-yellow city forms but one -multicolored streak against the burning green of the lofty island. There -is no naked soil, no bare rock: the chains of the mountains, rising by -successive ridges towards the interior, are still covered with -forests;--tropical woods ascend the peaks to the height of four and five -thousand feet. To describe the beauty of these woods--even of those -covering the mornes in the immediate vicinity of St. Pierre--seems to me -almost impossible;--there are forms and colors which appear to demand -the creation of new words to express. Especially is this true in regard -to hue;--the green of a tropical forest is something which one familiar -only with the tones of Northern vegetation can form no just conception -of: it is a color that conveys the idea of green fire. - -You have only to follow the high-road leading out of St. Pierre by way -of the Savane du Fort to find yourself, after twenty minutes' walk, in -front of the Morne Parnasse, and before the verge of a high -wood,--remnant of the enormous growth once covering all the island. What -a tropical forest is, as seen from without, you will then begin to feel, -with a sort of awe, while you watch that beautiful upclimbing of green -shapes to the height of perhaps a thousand feet overhead. It presents -one seemingly solid surface of vivid color,--rugose like a cliff. You do -not readily distinguish whole trees in the mass;--you only perceive -suggestions, dreams of trees, Doresqueries. Shapes that seem to be -staggering under weight of creepers rise a hundred feet above -you;--others, equally huge, are towering above these;--and still higher, -a legion of monstrosities are nodding, bending, tossing up green arms, -pushing out great knees, projecting curves as of backs and shoulders, -intertwining mockeries of limbs. No distinct head appears except where -some palm pushes up its crest in the general fight for sun. All else -looks as if under a veil,--hidden and half smothered by heavy drooping -things. Blazing green vines cover every branch and stem;--they form -draperies and tapestries and curtains and motionless cascades--pouring -down over all projections like a thick silent flood: an amazing -inundation of parasitic life.... It is a weird and awful beauty that you -gaze upon; and yet the spectacle is imperfect. These woods have been -decimated;--the finest trees have been cut down: you see only a ruin of -what was. To see the true primeval forest, you must ride well into the -interior. - -The absolutism of green does not, however, always prevail in these -woods. During a brief season, corresponding to some of our winter -months, the forests suddenly break into a very conflagration of color, -caused by the blossoming of the lianas--crimson, canary-yellow, blue, -and white. There are other flowerings, indeed; but that of the lianas -alone has chromatic force enough to change the aspect of a landscape. - - - - -XVI - - -... If it is possible for a West Indian forest to be described at all, -it could not be described more powerfully than it has been by Dr. E. -Rufz, a creole of Martinique, from one of whose works I venture to -translate the following remarkable pages: - -... "The sea alone, because it is the most colossal of earthly -spectacles,--only the sea can afford us any term of comparison for the -attempt to describe a _grand-bois_;--but even then one must imagine the -sea on a day of storm, suddenly immobilized in the expression of its -mightiest fury. For the summits of these vast woods repeat all the -inequalities of the land they cover; and these inequalities are -mountains from 4200 to 4800 feet in height, and valleys of corresponding -profundity. All this is hidden, blended together, smoothed over by -verdure, in soft and enormous undulations,--in immense billowings of -foliage. Only, instead of a blue line at the horizon, you have a green -line; instead of flashings of blue, you have flashings of green,--and in -all the tints, in all the combinations of which green is capable: deep -green, light green, yellow-green, black-green. - -"When your eyes grow weary--if it indeed be possible for them to -weary--of contemplating the exterior of these tremendous woods, try to -penetrate a little into their interior. What an inextricable chaos it -is! The sands of a sea are not more closely pressed together than the -trees are here: some straight, some curved, some upright, some -toppling,--fallen, or leaning against one another, or heaped high upon -each other. Climbing lianas, which cross from one tree to the other, -like ropes passing from mast to mast, help to fill up all the gaps in -this treillage; and parasites--not timid parasites like ivy or like -moss, but parasites which are trees self-grafted upon trees--dominate -the primitive trunks, overwhelm them, usurp the place of their foliage, -and fall back to the ground, forming factitious weeping-willows. You do -not find here, as in the great forests of the North, the eternal -monotony of birch and fir: this is the kingdom of infinite -variety;--species the most diverse elbow each other, interlace, strangle -and devour each other: all ranks and orders are confounded, as in a -human mob. The soft and tender _balisier_ opens its parasol of leaves -beside the _gommier_, which is the cedar of the colonies;--you see the -_acomat_, the _courbaril_, the mahogany, the _tendre-à-caillou_, the -iron-wood... but as well enumerate by name all the soldiers of an army! -Our oak, the balata, forces the palm to lengthen itself prodigiously in -order to get a few thin beams of sunlight; for it is as difficult here -for the poor trees to obtain one glance from this King of the world, as -for us, subjects of a monarchy, to obtain one look from our monarch. As -for the soil, it is needless to think of looking at it: it lies as far -below us probably as the bottom of the sea;--it disappeared, ever so -long ago, under the heaping of débris,--under a sort of manure that has -been accumulating there since the creation: you sink into it as into -slime; you walk upon putrefied trunks, in a dust that has no name! Here -indeed it is that one can get some comprehension of what vegetable -antiquity signifies;--a lurid light (_lurida lux_), greenish, as wan at -noon as the light of the moon at midnight, confuses forms and lends them -a vague and fantastic aspect; a mephitic humidity exhales from all -parts; an odor of death prevails; and a calm which is not silence (for -the ear fancies it can hear the great movement of composition and of -decomposition perpetually going on) tends to inspire you with that old -mysterious horror which the ancients felt in the primitive forests of -Germany and of Gaul:" - -"'Arboribus suus horror inest.'"[3] - - -[Footnote 3: "Enquête sur le Serpent de la Martinique (Vipère Fer-de-Lance, -Bothrops Lancéolé, etc.)." Par le Docteur E. Rufs. 2 ed. 1859 Paris: -Germer-Ballière, pp. 55-57 (note).] - - - - -XVII - - -But the sense of awe inspired by a tropic forest is certainly greater -than the mystic fear which any wooded wilderness of the North could ever -have created. The brilliancy of colors that seem almost preternatural; -the vastness of the ocean of frondage, and the violet blackness of rare -gaps, revealing its inconceived profundity; and the million mysterious -sounds which make up its perpetual murmur,--compel the idea of a -creative force that almost terrifies. Man feels here like an -insect,--fears like an insect on the alert for merciless enemies: and -the fear is not unfounded. To enter these green abysses without a guide -were folly: even with the best of guides there is peril. Nature is -dangerous here: the powers that build are also the powers that putrefy; -here life and death are perpetually interchanging office in the -never-ceasing transformation of forces,--melting down and reshaping -living substance simultaneously within the same vast crucible. There are -trees distilling venom, there are plants that have fangs, there are -perfumes that affect the brain, there are cold green creepers whose -touch blisters flesh like fire; while in all the recesses and the -shadows is a swarming of unfamiliar life, beautiful or hideous,--insect, -reptile, bird,--inter-warring, devouring, preying.... But the great -peril of the forest--the danger which deters even the naturalist--is -the presence of the terrible fer-de-lance (_trigonocephalus -lanceolatus,--bothrops lanceolatus,--craspodecephalus_),--deadliest of -the Occidental thanatophidia, and probably one of the deadliest serpents -of the known world. - -... There are no less than eight varieties of it,--the most common being -the dark gray, speckled with black--precisely the color that enables the -creature to hide itself among the protruding roots of the trees, by -simply coiling about them, and concealing its triangular head. Sometimes -the snake is a clear bright yellow: then it is difficult to distinguish -it from the bunch of bananas among which it conceals itself. Or the -creature may be a dark yellow,--or a yellowish brown,--or the color of -wine-lees, speckled pink and black,--or dead black with a yellow -belly,--or black with a pink belly: all hues of tropical forest-mould, -of old bark, of decomposing trees.... The iris of the eye is -orange,--with red flashes: it glows at night like burning charcoal. - -And the fer-de-lance reigns absolute king over the mountains and the -ravines; he is lord of the forest and the solitudes by day, and by night -he extends his dominion over the public roads, the familiar paths, the -parks, the pleasure resorts. People must remain at home after dark, -unless they dwell in the city itself: if you happen to be out visiting -after sunset, only a mile from town, your friends will caution you -anxiously not to follow the boulevard as you go back, and to keep as -closely as possible to the very centre of the path. Even in the -brightest noon you cannot venture to enter the woods without an -experienced escort; you cannot trust your eyes to detect danger: at any -moment a seeming branch, a knot of lianas, a pink or gray root, a clump -of pendent yellow fruit may suddenly take life, writhe, stretch, spring, -strike.... Then you will need aid indeed, and most quickly; for within -the span of a few heart-beats the wounded flesh chills, tumefies, -softens. Soon it changes color, and begins to spot violaceously; while -an icy coldness creeps through all the blood. If the _panseur_ or the -physician arrives in time, and no vein has been pierced, there is hope; -but it more often happens that the blow is received directly on a vein -of the foot or ankle,--in which case nothing can save the victim. Even -when life is saved the danger is not over. Necrosis of the tissues is -likely to set in: the flesh corrupts, falls from the bone sometimes in -tatters; and the colors of its putrefaction simulate the hues of -vegetable decay,--the ghastly grays and pinks and yellows of trunks -rotting down into the dark soil which gave them birth. The human victim -moulders as the trees moulder,--crumbles and dissolves as crumbles the -substance of the dead palms and balatas: the Death-of-the-Woods is upon -him. - -To-day a fer-de-lance is seldom found exceeding six feet in length; but -the dimensions of the reptile, at least, would seem to have been -decreased considerably by man's warring upon it since the time of Père -Labat, who mentions having seen a fer-de-lance nine feet long and five -inches in diameter. He also speaks of a _couresse_--a beautiful and -harmless serpent said to kill the fer-de-lance--over ten feet long and -thick as a man's leg; but a large couresse is now seldom seen. The negro -woodsmen kill both creatures indiscriminately; and as the older reptiles -are the least likely to escape observation, the chances for the survival -of extraordinary individuals lessen with the yearly decrease of -forest-area. - -... But it may be doubted whether the number of deadly snakes has been -greatly lessened since the early colonial period. Each female produces -viviparously from forty to sixty young at a birth. The favorite haunts -of the fer-de-lance are to a large extent either inaccessible or -unexplored, and its multiplication is prodigious. It is really only the -surplus of its swarming that over-pours into the cane-fields, and makes -the public roads dangerous after dark;--yet more than three hundred -snakes have been killed in twelve months on a single plantation. The -introduction of the Indian mongoose, or _mangouste_ (ichneumon), proved -futile as a means of repressing the evil. The mangouste kills the -fer-de-lance when it has a chance; but it also kills fowls and sucks -their eggs, which condemns it irrevocably with the country negroes, who -live to a considerable extent by raising and selling chickens. - -... Domestic animals are generally able to discern the presence of their -deadly enemy long before a human eye can perceive it. If your horse -rears and plunges in the darkness, trembles and sweats, do not try to -ride on until you are assured the way is clear. Or your dog may come -running back, whining, shivering: you will do well to accept his -warning. The animals kept about country residences usually try to fight -for their lives; the hen battles for her chickens; the bull endeavors to -gore and stamp his supple enemy; the pig gives more successful combat; -but the creature who fears the monster least is the brave cat. Seeing a -snake, she at once carries her kittens to a place of safety, then boldly -advances to the encounter. She will walk to the very limit of the -serpent's striking range, and begin to feint,--teasing him, startling -him, trying to draw his blow. How the emerald and the topazine eyes glow -then!--they are flames! A moment more and the triangular head, hissing -from the coil, flashes swift as if moved by wings. But swifter still the -stroke of the armed paw that dashes the horror aside, flinging it -mangled in the dust. Nevertheless, pussy does not yet dare to -spring;--the enemy, still active, has almost instantly reformed his -coil;--but she is again in front of him, watching,--vertical pupil -against vertical pupil. Again the lashing stroke; again the beautiful -countering;--again the living death is hurled aside; and now the scaled -skin is deeply torn,--one eye socket has ceased to flame. Once more the -stroke of the serpent; once more the light, quick, cutting blow. But the -trigonocephalus is blind, is stupefied;--before he can attempt to coil -pussy has leaped upon him,--nailing the horrible flat head fast to the -ground with her two sinewy paws. Now let him lash, writhe, twine, strive -to strangle her!--in vain! he will never lift his head: an instant more, -and he lies still:--the keen white teeth of the cat have severed the -vertebra just behind the triangular skull!... - - - - -XVIII - - -The Jardin des Plantes is not absolutely secure from the visits of the -serpent; for the trigonocephalus goes everywhere,--mounting to the very -summits of the cocoa-palms, swimming rivers, ascending walls, hiding in -palm-thatched roofs, breeding in bagasse heaps. But, despite what has -been printed to the contrary, this reptile fears man and hates light: it -rarely shows itself voluntarily during the day. Therefore, if you desire -to obtain some conception of the magnificence of Martinique vegetation, -without incurring the risk of entering the high woods, you can do so by -visiting the Jardin des Plantes,--only taking care to use your eyes well -while climbing over fallen trees, or picking your way through dead -branches. The garden is less than a mile from the city, on the slopes of -the Morne Parnasse; and the primitive forest itself has been utilized in -the formation of it,--so that the greater part of the garden is a -primitive growth. Nature has accomplished here infinitely more than art -of man (though such art has done much to lend the place its charm),--and -until within a very recent time the result might have been deemed, -without exaggeration, one of the wonders of the world. - -A moment after passing the gate you are in twilight, though the sun may -be blinding on the white road without. All about you is a green -gloaming, up through which you see immense trunks rising. Follow the -first path that slopes up on your left as you proceed, if you wish to -obtain the best general view of the place in the shortest possible time. -As you proceed, the garden on your right deepens more and more into a -sort of ravine;--on your left rises a sort of foliage-shrouded cliff; -and all this in a beautiful crepuscular dimness, made by the foliage of -great trees meeting overhead. Palms rooted a hundred feet below you hold -their heads a hundred feet above you; yet they can barely reach the -light.... Farther on the ravine widens to frame in two tiny lakes, -dotted with artificial islands, which are miniatures of Martinique, -Guadeloupe, and Dominica: these are covered with tropical plants, many -of which are total strangers even here: they are natives of India, -Senegambia, Algeria, and the most eastern East. Arborescent ferns of -unfamiliar elegance curve up from path-verge or lake-brink; and the -great _arbre-du-voyageur_ outspreads its colossal fan. Giant lianas -droop down over the way in loops and festoons; tapering green cords, -which are creepers descending to take root, hang everywhere; and -parasites with stems thick as cables coil about the trees like boas. -Trunks shooting up out of sight, into the green wilderness above, -display no bark; you cannot guess what sort of trees they are; they are -so thickly wrapped in creepers as to seem pillars of leaves. Between you -and the sky, where everything is fighting for sun, there is an almost -unbroken vault of leaves, a cloudy green confusion in which nothing -particular is distinguishable. - - -[Illustration: ROAD TO MORNE ROUGE -_A riot of green fading off into distant grays, and -nearly always a glint of blue ocean in the distance._] - - -You come to breaks now and then in the green steep to your -left,--openings created for cascades pouring down from one mossed basin -of brown stone to another,--or gaps occupied by flights of stone steps, -green with mosses, and chocolate-colored by age. These steps lead to -loftier paths; and all the stone-work,--the grottos, bridges, basins, -terraces, steps,--are darkened by time and velveted with mossy -things.... It is of another century, this garden: special ordinances -were passed concerning it during the French Revolution (_An. II._);--it -is very quaint; it suggests an art spirit as old as Versailles, or -older; but it is indescribably beautiful even now. - -... At last you near the end, to hear the roar of falling water;--there -is a break in the vault of green above the bed of a river below you; and -at a sudden turn you come in sight of the cascade. Before you is the -Morne itself; and against the burst of descending light you discern a -precipice-verge. Over it, down one green furrow in its brow, tumbles the -rolling foam of a cataract, like falling smoke, to be caught below in a -succession of moss-covered basins. The first dear leap of the water is -nearly seventy feet.... Did Josephine ever rest upon that shadowed bench -near by?... She knew all these paths by heart: surely they must have -haunted her dreams in the after-time! - -Returning by another path, you may have a view of other cascades--though -none so imposing. But they are beautiful; and you will not soon forget -the effect of one,--flanked at its summit by white-stemmed palms which -lift their leaves so high into the light that the loftiness of them -gives the sensation of vertigo.... Dizzy also the magnificence of the -great colonnade of palmistes and angelins, two hundred feet high, -through which you pass if you follow the river-path from the -cascade,--the famed _Allée des duels_.... - -The vast height, the pillared solemnity of the ancient trees in the -green dimness, the solitude, the strangeness of shapes but half -seen,--suggesting fancies of silent aspiration, or triumph, or -despair,--all combine to produce a singular impression of awe.... You -are alone; you hear no human voice,--no sounds but the rushing of the -river over its volcanic rocks, and the creeping of millions of lizards -and tree-frogs and little toads. You see no human face; but you see all -around you the labor of man being gnawed and devoured by nature,--broken -bridges, sliding steps, fallen arches, strangled fountains with empty -basins;--and everywhere arises the pungent odor of decay. This -omnipresent odor affects one unpleasantly;--it never ceases to remind -you that where Nature is most puissant to charm, there also is she -mightiest to destroy. - -The beautiful garden is now little more than a wreck of what it once -was: since the fall of the Empire it has been shamefully abused and -neglected. Some _agronome_ sent out to take charge of it by the -Republic, began its destruction by cutting down acres of enormous and -magnificent trees,--including a superb alley of palms,--for the purpose -of experimenting with roses. But the rose-trees would not be cultivated -there; and the serpents avenged the demolition by making the -experimental garden unsafe to enter;--they always swarm into underbrush -and shrubbery after forest-trees have been cleared away.... Subsequently -the garden was greatly damaged by storms and torrential rains; the -mountain river overflowed, carrying bridges away and demolishing -stone-work. No attempt was made to repair these destructions; but -neglect alone would not have ruined the loveliness of the -place;--barbarism was necessary! Under the present negro-radical régime -orders have been given for the wanton destruction of trees older than -the colony itself;--and marvels that could not be replaced in a hundred -generations were cut down and converted into charcoal for the use of -public institutions. - - - - -XIX - - -... How gray seem the words of poets in the presence of this Nature!... -The enormous silent poem of color and light--(you who know only the -North do not know color, do not know light!)--of sea and sky, of the -woods and the peaks, so far surpasses imagination as to paralyze -it--mocking the language of admiration, defyingall power of expression. -That is before you which never can be painted or chanted, because there -is no cunning of art or speech able to reflect it. Nature realizes your -most hopeless ideals of beauty, even as one gives toys to a child. And -the sight of this supreme terrestrial expression of creative magic numbs -thought. In the great centres of civilization we admire and study only -the results of mind,--the products of human endeavor: here one views -only the work of Nature,--but Nature in all her primeval power, as in -the legendary frostless morning of creation. Man here seems to bear -scarcely more relation to the green life about him than the insect; and -the results of human effort seem impotent by comparison with the -operation of those vast blind forces which clothe the peaks and crown -the dead craters with impenetrable forest. The air itself seems inimical -to thought,--soporific, and yet pregnant with activities of dissolution -so powerful that the mightiest tree begins to melt like wax from the -moment it has ceased to live. For man merely to exist is an effort; and -doubtless in the perpetual struggle of the blood to preserve itself from -fermentation, there is such an expenditure of vital energy as leaves -little surplus for mental exertion. - -... Scarcely less than poet or philosopher, the artist, I fancy, would -feel his helplessness. In the city he may find wonderful picturesqueness -to invite his pencil, but when he stands face to face alone with Nature -he will discover that he has no colors! The luminosities of tropic -foliage could only be imitated in fire. He who desires to paint a West -Indian forest,--a West Indian landscape,--must take his view from some -great height, through which the colors come to his eye softened and -subdued by distance,--toned with blues or purples by the astonishing -atmosphere. - - -[Illustration: ST. PIERRE-STREET AMONG THE RUINS -_Exuberant vegetation has claimed the ruins and invaded -the beautiful stone-paved streets of the former -capital._] - - -... It is sunset as I write these lines, and there are witchcrafts of -color. Looking down the narrow, steep street opening to the bay, I see -the motionless silhouette of the steamer on a perfectly green -sea,--under a lilac sky,--against a prodigious orange light. - - - - -XX - - -In these tropic latitudes Night does not seem "to fall,"--to descend -over the many-peaked land: it appears to rise up, like an exhalation, -from the ground. The coast-lines darken first;--then the slopes and the -lower hills and valleys become shadowed;--then, very swiftly, the gloom -mounts to the heights, whose very loftiest peak may remain glowing like -a volcano at its tip for several minutes after the rest of the island is -veiled in blackness and all the stars are out.... - -... Tropical nights have a splendor that seems strange to northern eyes. -The sky does not look so high--so far away as in the North; but the -stars are larger, and the luminosity greater. - -With the rising of the moon all the violet of the sky flushes;--there is -almost such a rose-color as heralds northern dawn. - -Then the moon appears over the mornes, very large, very bright--brighter -certainly than many a befogged sun one sees in northern Novembers; and -it seems to have a weird magnetism--this tropical moon. Night-birds, -insects, frogs,--everything that can sing,--all sing very low on the -nights of great moons. Tropical wood-life begins with dark: in the -immense white light of a full moon this nocturnal life seems afraid to -cry out as usual. Also, this moon has a singular effect on the nerves. -It is very difficult to sleep on such bright nights: you feel such a -vague uneasiness as the coming of a great storm gives.... - - - - -XXI - - -You reach Fort-de-France, the capital of Martinique, by steamer from St. -Pierre, in about an hour and a half.... There is an overland route--_La -Trace_; but it is a twenty-five-mile ride, and a weary one in such a -climate, notwithstanding the indescribable beauty of the landscapes -which the lofty road commands. - -... Rebuilt in wood after the almost total destruction by an earthquake -of its once picturesque streets of stone, Fort-de-France (formerly -Fort-Royal) has little of outward interest by comparison with St. -Pierre. It lies in a low, moist plain, and has few remarkable buildings: -you can walk all over the little town in about half an hour. But the -Savane,--the great green public square, with its grand tamarinds and -_sabliers_,--would be worth the visit alone, even were it not made -romantic by the marble memory of Josephine. - -I went to look at the white dream of her there, a creation of -master-sculptors.... It seemed to me absolutely lovely. - -Sea winds have bitten it; tropical rains have streaked it: some -microscopic growth has darkened the exquisite hollow of the throat. And -yet such is the human charm of the figure that you almost fancy you are -gazing at a living presence.... Perhaps the profile is less artistically -real,--statuesque to the point of betraying the chisel; but when you -look straight up into the sweet creole face, you can believe she lives: -all the wonderful West Indian charm of the woman is there. - - -[Illustration: THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE -"_I went to look at the white dream of her there a -creation of master-sculptors.... It seems to me absolutely -lovely._"] - - -She is standing just in the centre of the Savane, robed in the fashion -of the First Empire, with gracious arms and shoulders bare: one hand -leans upon a medallion bearing the eagle profile of Napoleon.... Seven -tall palms stand in a circle around her, lifting their comely heads into -the blue glory of the tropic day. Within their enchanted circle you feel -that you tread holy ground,--the sacred soil of artist and poet;--here -the recollections of memoir-writers vanish away; the gossip of history -is hushed for you; you no longer care to know how rumor has it that she -spoke or smiled or wept: only the bewitchment of her lives under the -thin, soft, swaying shadows of those feminine palms.... Over violet -space of summer sea, through the vast splendor of azure light, she is -looking back to the place of her birth, back to beautiful drowsy -Trois-Islets,--and always with the same half-dreaming, half-plaintive -smile,--unutterably touching.... - - - - -XXII - - -One leaves Martinique with regret, even after so brief a stay: the old -colonial life itself, not less than the revelation of tropic nature, -having in this island a quality of uniqueness, a special charm, unlike -anything previously seen.... We steam directly for Barbadoes;--the -vessel will touch at the intervening islands only on her homeward route. - -... Against a hot wind south,--under a sky always deepening in beauty. -Towards evening dark clouds begin to rise before us; and by nightfall -they spread into one pitch-blackness over all the sky. Then comes a wind -in immense sweeps, lifting the water,--but a wind that is still -strangely warm. The ship rolls heavily in the dark for an hour or -more;--then torrents of tepid rain make the sea smooth again; the clouds -pass, and the violet transparency of tropical night reappears,--ablaze -with stars. - -At early morning a long low land appears on the horizon,--totally unlike -the others we have seen; it has no visible volcanic forms. That is -Barbadoes,--a level burning coral coast,--a streak of green, -white-edged, on the verge of the sea. But hours pass before the green -line begins to show outlines of foliage. - -... As we approach the harbor an overhanging black cloud suddenly bursts -down in illuminated rain,--through which the shapes of moored ships seem -magnified as through a golden fog. It ceases as suddenly as it began; -the cloud vanishes utterly; and the azure is revealed unflecked, -dazzling, wondrous.... It is a sight worth the whole journey,--the -splendor of this noon sky at Barbadoes;--the horizon glow is almost -blinding, the sea-line sharp as a razor-edge; and motionless upon the -sapphire water nearly a hundred ships lie,--masts, spars, booms, -cordage, cutting against the amazing magnificence of blue.... Meanwhile -the island coast has clearly brought out all its beauties: first you -note the long white winding thread-line of beach--coral and bright -sand;--then the deep green fringe of vegetation through which roofs and -spires project here and there, and quivering feathery heads of palms -with white trunks. The general tone of this verdure is sombre green, -though it is full of lustre: there is a glimmer in it as of metal. -Beyond all this coast-front long undulations of misty pale green are -visible,--far slopes of low hill and plain; the highest curving line, -the ridge of the island, bears a row of cocoa-palms. They are so far -that their stems diminish almost to invisibility: only the crests are -clearly distinguishable,--like spiders hanging between land and sky. But -there are no forests: the land is a naked unshadowed green far as the -eye can reach beyond the coast-line. There is no waste space in -Barbadoes: it is perhaps one of the most densely-peopled places on the -globe--(one thousand and thirty-five inhabitants to the square -mile);--and it sends black laborers by thousands to the other British -colonies every year,--the surplus of its population. - - -[Illustration: THE QUAY, BRIDGETOWN -_The bustling, busy air of Barba does is in marked contrast -to the sleepy indifference of the other islands._] - - -... The city of Bridgetown disappoints the stranger who expects to find -any exotic features of architecture or custom,--disappoints more, -perhaps, than any other tropical port in this respect. Its principal -streets give you the impression of walking through an English town,--not -an old-time town, but a new one, plain almost to commonplaceness, in -spite of Nelson's monument. Even the palms are powerless to lend the -place a redly tropical look;--the streets are narrow without being -picturesque, white as lime roads and full of glare;--the manners, the -costumes, the style of living, the system of business are thoroughly -English;--the population lacks visible originality; and its -extraordinary activity, so oddly at variance with the quiet indolence of -other West Indian peoples, seems almost unnatural. Pressure of numbers -has largely contributed to this characteristic; but Barbadoes would be -in any event, by reason of position alone, a busy colony. As the most -windward of the West Indies it has naturally become not only the chief -port, but also the chief emporium of the Antilles. It has railroads, -telephones, street-cars, fire and life insurance companies, good hotels, -libraries and reading-rooms, and excellent public schools. Its annual -export trade figures for nearly $6,000,000. - -The fact which seems most curious to the stranger, on his first -acquaintance with the city, is that most of this business activity is -represented by black men--black merchants, shopkeepers, clerks. Indeed, -the Barbadian population, as a mass, strikes one as the darkest in the -West Indies. Black regiments march through the street to the sound of -English music,--uniformed as Zouaves; black police, in white helmets and -white duck uniforms, maintain order; black postmen distribute the mails; -black cabmen wait for customers at a shilling an hour. It is by no means -an attractive population, physically,--rather the reverse, and frankly -brutal as well--different as possible from the colored race of -Martinique; but it has immense energy, and speaks excellent English. One -is almost startled on hearing Barbadian negroes speaking English with a -strong Old Country accent. Without seeing the speaker, you could -scarcely believe such English uttered by black lips; and the commonest -negro laborer about the port pronounces as well as a Londoner. The -purity of Barbadian English is partly due, no doubt, to the fact that, -unlike most of the other islands, Barbadoes has always remained in the -possession of Great Britain. Even as far back as 1676 Barbadoes was in a -very different condition of prosperity from that of the other colonies, -and offered a totally different social aspect--having a white population -of 50,000. At that time the island could muster 20,000 infantry and -3,000 horse; there were 80,000 slaves; there were 1500 houses in -Bridgetown and an immense number of shops; and not less than two hundred -ships were required to export the annual sugar crop alone. - - -[Illustration: BRIDGETOWN, BARBADOES -_A picture of lights and shadows, the glare of coral -roads relieved by the green palms and the blue and -violet and yellow houses._] - - -But Barbadoes differs also from most of the Antilles geologically; and -there can be no question that the nature of its soil has considerably -influenced the physical character of its inhabitants. Although Barbadoes -is now known to be also of volcanic origin,--a fact which its low -undulating surface could enable no unscientific observer to suppose,--it -is superficially a calcareous formation; and the remarkable effect of -limestone soil upon the bodily development of a people is not less -marked in this latitude than elsewhere. In most of the Antilles the -white race degenerates and dwarfs under the influence of climate and -environment; but the Barbadian creole--tall, muscular, large of -bone--preserves and perpetuates in the tropics the strength and -sturdiness of his English forefathers. - - - - -XXIII - - -... Night: steaming for British Guiana;--we shall touch at no port -before reaching Demerara.... A strong warm gale, that compels the taking -in of every awning and wind-sail. Driving tepid rain; and an intense -darkness, broken only by the phosphorescence of the sea, which to-night -displays extraordinary radiance. - -The steamer's wake is a great broad, seething river of fire,--white like -strong moonshine: the glow is bright enough to read by. At its centre -the trail is brightest;--towards either edge it pales off -cloudily,--curling like smoke of phosphorus. Great sharp lights burst up -momentarily through it like meteors. Weirder than this strange wake are -the long slow fires that keep burning about us at a distance, out in the -dark. Nebulous incandescences mount up from the depths, change form, and -pass;--serpentine flames wriggle by;--there are long billowing crests -of fire. These seem to be formed of millions of tiny sparks, that light -all at the same time, glow for a while, disappear, reappear, and swirl -away in a prolonged smouldering. - -There are warm gales and heavy rain each night,--it is the hurricane -season;--and it seems these become more violent the farther south we -sail. But we are nearing those equinoctial regions where the calm of -nature is never disturbed by storms. - -... Morning: still steaming south, through a vast blue day. The azure of -the heaven always seems to be growing deeper. There is a bluish-white -glow in the horizon,--almost too bright to look at. An indigo sea.... -There are no clouds; and the splendor endures until sunset. - -Then another night, very luminous and calm. The Southern constellations -burn whitely.... We are nearing the great shallows of the South American -coast. - - - - -XXIV - - -... It is the morning of the third day since we left Barbadoes, and for -the first time since entering tropic waters all things seem changed. The -atmosphere is heavy with strange mists; and the light of an -orange-colored sun, immensely magnified by vapors, illuminates a -greenish-yellow sea,--foul and opaque, as if stagnant.... I remember -just such a sunrise over the Louisiana gulf-coast. - -We are in the shallows, moving very slowly. The line-caster keeps -calling, at regular intervals: "Quarter less five, sir! And a half four, -sir!"... There is little variation in his soundings--a quarter of a -fathom or half a fathom difference. The warm air has a sickly heaviness, -like the air of a swamp; the water shows olive and ochreous tones -alternately;--the foam is yellow in our wake. These might be the colors -of a fresh-water inundation.... - -A fellow-traveller tells me, as we lean over the rail, that this same -viscous, glaucous sea washes the great penal colony of Cayenne--which he -visited. When a convict dies there, the corpse, sewn up in a sack, is -borne to the water, and a great bell tolled. Then the still surface is -suddenly broken by fins innumerable,--black fins of sharks rushing to -the hideous funeral: they know the Bell!... - -There is land in sight--very low land,--a thin dark line suggesting -marshiness; and the nauseous color of the water always deepens. - -As the land draws near, it reveals a beautiful tropical appearance. The -sombre green line brightens color, sharpens into a splendid fringe of -fantastic evergreen fronds, bristling with palm crests. Then a mossy -sea-wall comes into sight--dull gray stone-work, green-lined at all its -joints. There is a fort. The steamer's whistle is exactly mocked by a -queer echo, and the cannon-shot once reverberated--only once: there are -no mountains here to multiply a sound. And all the while the water -becomes a thicker and more turbid green; the wake looks more and more -ochreous, the foam ropier and yellower. Vessels becalmed everywhere -speck the glass-level of the sea, like insects sticking upon a mirror. -It begins, all of a sudden, to rain torrentially; and through the white -storm of falling drops nothing is discernible. - - - - -XXV - - -At Georgetown, steamers entering the river can lie close to the -wharf;--we can enter the Government warehouses without getting wet. In -fifteen minutes the shower ceases; and we leave the warehouses to find -ourselves in a broad, palm-bordered street illuminated by the most -prodigious day that yet shone upon our voyage. The rain has cleared the -air and dissolved the mists; and the light is wondrous. - -My own memory of Demerara will always be a memory of enormous light. The -radiance has an indescribable dazzling force that conveys the idea of -electric fire;--the horizon blinds like a motionless sheet of lightning; -and you dare not look at the zenith.... The brightest summer-day in the -North is a gloaming to this. Men walk only under umbrellas, or with -their eyes down; and the pavements, already dry, flare almost -unbearably. - -... Georgetown has an exotic aspect peculiar to itself,--different from -that of any West Indian city we have seen; and this is chiefly due to -the presence of palm-trees. For the edifices, the plan, the general idea -of the town are modern; the white streets, laid out very broad to the -sweep of the sea-breeze, and drained by canals running through their -centres, with bridges at cross-streets, display the value of -nineteenth-century knowledge regarding house-building with a view to -coolness as well as to beauty. The architecture might be described as a -tropicalized Swiss style--Swiss eaves are developed into veranda roofs, -and Swiss porches prolonged and lengthened into beautiful piazzas and -balconies. The men who devised these large cool halls, these admirably -ventilated rooms, these latticed windows opening to the ceiling, may -have lived in India; but the physiognomy of the town also reveals a fine -sense of beauty in the designers: all that is strange and beautiful in -the vegetation of the tropics has had a place contrived for it, a home -prepared for it. Each dwelling has its garden; each garden blazes with -singular and lovely color; but everywhere and always tower the palms. -There are colonnades of palms, clumps of palms, groves of palms--sago -and cabbage and cocoa and fan palms. You can see that the palm is -cherished here, is loved for its beauty, like a woman. Everywhere you -find palms, in all stages of development, from the first sheaf of tender -green plumes rising above the soil to the wonderful colossus that holds -its head a hundred feet above the roofs; palms border the garden walks -in colonnades; they are grouped in exquisite poise about the basins of -fountains; they stand like magnificent pillars at either side of gates; -they look into the highest windows of public buildings and hotels. - -... For miles and miles and miles we drive along avenues of -palms--avenues leading to opulent cane-fields, traversing queer coolie -villages. Rising on either side of the road to the same level, the palms -present the vista of a long unbroken double colonnade of dead-silver -trunks, shining tall pillars with deep green plume-tufted summits, -almost touching, almost forming something like the dream of an -interminable Moresque arcade. Sometimes for a full mile the trees are -only about thirty or forty feet high; then, turning into an older alley, -we drive for half a league between giants nearly a hundred feet in -altitude. The double perspective lines of their crests, meeting before -us and behind us in a bronze-green darkness, betray only at long -intervals any variation of color, where some dead leaf droops like an -immense yellow feather. - - - - -XXVI - - -In the marvellous light, which brings out all the rings of their bark, -these palms sometimes produce a singular impression of subtle, fleshy, -sentient life,--seem to move with a slowly stealthy motion as you ride -or drive past them. The longer you watch them, the stronger this idea -becomes,--the more they seem alive,--the more their long silver-gray -articulated bodies seem to poise, undulate, stretch.... Certainly the -palms of a Demerara country-road evoke no such real emotion as that -produced by the stupendous palms of the Jardin des Plantes in -Martinique. That beautiful, solemn, silent life upreaching through -tropical forest to the sun for warmth, for color, for power,--filled me, -I remember, with a sensation of awe different from anything which I had -ever experienced.... But even here in Guiana, standing alone under the -sky, the palm still seems a creature rather than a tree,--gives you the -idea of personality;--you could almost believe each lithe shape animated -by a thinking force,--believe that all are watching you with such -passionless calm as legend lends to beings supernatural.... And I wonder -if some kindred fancy might not have inspired the name given by the -French colonists to the male palmiste,--_angelin_.... - - -Very wonderful is the botanical garden here. It is new; and there are no -groves, no heavy timber, no shade; but the finely laid-out -grounds,--alternations of lawn and flower-bed,--offer everywhere -surprising sights. You observe curious orange-colored shrubs; plants -speckled with four different colors; plants that look like wigs of green -hair; plants with enormous broad leaves that seem made of colored -crystal; plants that do not look like natural growths, but like -idealizations of plants,--those beautiful fantasticalities imagined by -sculptors. All these we see in glimpses from a carriage-window,--yellow, -indigo, black, and crimson plants.... We draw rein only to observe in -the ponds the green navies of the Victoria Regia,--the monster among -water-lilies. It covers all the ponds and many of the canals. Close to -shore the leaves are not extraordinarily large; but they increase in -breadth as they float farther out, as if gaining bulk proportionately to -the depth of water. A few yards off, they are large as soup-plates; -farther out, they are broad as dinner-trays; in the centre of the pond -or canal they have surface large as tea-tables. And all have an upturned -edge, a perpendicular rim. Here and there you see the imperial -flower,--towering above the leaves.... Perhaps, if your hired driver be -a good guide, he will show you the snake-nut,--the fruit of an -extraordinary tree native to the Guiana forests. This swart nut--shaped -almost like a clam-shell, and halving in the same way along its sharp -edges--encloses something almost incredible. There is a pale envelope -about the kernel; remove it, and you find between your fingers a little -viper, triangular-headed, coiled thrice upon itself, perfect in every -detail of form from head to tail. Was this marvellous mockery evolved -for a protective end? It is no eccentricity: in every nut the -serpent-kernel lies coiled the same. - -... Yet in spite of a hundred such novel impressions, what a delight it -is to turn again cityward through the avenues of palms, and to feel once -more the sensation of being watched, without love or hate, by all those -lithe, tall, silent, gracious shapes! - - - - -XXVII - - -Hindoos; coolies; men, women, and children--standing, walking, or -sitting in the sun, under the shadowing of the palms. Men squatting, -with hands clasped over their black knees, are watching us from under -their white turbans--very steadily, with a slight scowl. All these -Indian faces have the same set, stem expression, the same knitting of -the brows; and the keen gaze is not altogether pleasant. It borders upon -hostility; it is the look of measurement--measurement physical and -moral. In the mighty swarming of India these have learned the full -meaning and force of life's law as we Occidentals rarely learn it. Under -the dark fixed frown the eye glitters like a serpent's. - -Nearly all wear the same Indian dress; the thickly folded turban, -usually white, white drawers reaching but half-way down the thigh, -leaving the knees and the legs bare, and white jacket. A few don long -blue robes, and wear a colored head-dress: these are babagees--priests. -Most of the men look tall; they are slender and small-boned, but the -limbs are well turned. They are grave--talk in low tones, and seldom -smile. Those you see with heavy black beards are probably Mussulmans: I -am told they have their mosques here, and that the muezzin's call to -prayer is chanted three times daily on many plantations. Others shave, -but the Mohammedans allow all the beard to grow.... Very comely some of -the women are in their close-clinging soft brief robes and tantalizing -veils--a costume leaving shoulders, arms, and ankles bare. The dark arm -is always tapered and rounded; the silver-circled ankle always elegantly -knit to the light straight foot. Many slim girls, whether standing or -walking or in repose, offer remarkable studies of grace; their attitude -when erect always suggests lightness and suppleness, like the poise of a -dancer. - -... A coolie mother passes, carrying at her hip a very pretty naked -baby. It has exquisite delicacy of limb: its tiny ankles are circled by -thin bright silver rings; it looks like a little bronze statuette, a -statuette of Kama, the Indian Eros. The mother's arms are covered from -elbow to wrist with silver bracelets,--some flat and decorated; others -coarse, round, smooth, with ends hammered into the form of viper-heads. -She has large flowers of gold in her ears, a small gold flower in her -very delicate little nose. This nose ornament does not seem absurd; on -these dark skins the effect is almost as pleasing as it is bizarre. This -jewellry is pure metal;--it is thus the coolies carry their -savings,--melting down silver or gold coin, and recasting it into -bracelets, ear-rings, and nose ornaments. - -... Evening is brief: all this time the days have been growing shorter: -it will be black at 6 P.M. One does not regret it;--the glory of such a -tropical day as this--is almost too much to endure for twelve hours. The -sun is already low, and yellow with a tinge of orange: as he falls -between the palms his stare colors the world with a strange hue--such a -phantasmal light as might be given by a nearly burnt-out sun. The air is -full of unfamiliar odors. We pass a flame-colored bush; and an -extraordinary perfume--strange, rich, sweet--envelops us like a -caress: the soul of a red jasmine.... - -... What a tropical sunset is this--within two days' steam-journey of -the equator! Almost to the zenith the sky flames up from the sea,--one -tremendous orange incandescence, rapidly deepening to vermilion as the -sim dips. The indescribable intensity of this mighty burning makes one -totally unprepared for the spectacle of its sudden passing: a seeming -drawing down behind the sea of the whole vast flare of light.... -Instantly the world becomes indigo. The air grows humid, weighty with -vapor; frogs commence to make a queer bubbling noise; and some unknown -creature begins in the trees a singular music, not trilling, like the -note of our cricket, but one continuous shrill tone, high, keen, as of a -thin jet of steam leaking through a valve. Strong vegetal scents, -aromatic and novel, rise up. Under the trees of our hotel I hear a -continuous dripping sound; the drops fall heavily, like bodies of clumsy -insects. But it is not dew, nor insects; it is a thick, transparent -jelly--a fleshy liquor that falls in immense drops.... The night grows -chill with dews, with vegetable breath; and we sleep with windows nearly -closed. - - - - -XXVIII - - -... Another sunset like the conflagration of a world, as we steam away -from Guiana;--another unclouded night; and morning brings back to us -that bright blue in the sea-water which we missed for the first time on -our approach to the main-land. There is a long swell all day, and tepid -winds. But towards evening the water once more shifts its hue--takes -olive tint--the mighty flood of the Orinoco is near. - - -[Illustration: COUNTRY ROAD, BARBADOES -_One rides for miles between walls of waving cane. -The white glare of the coral roads is blinding._] - - -Over the rim of the sea rise shapes faint pink, faint gray--misty shapes -that grow and lengthen as we advance. We are nearing Trinidad. - -It first takes definite form as a prolonged, undulating, pale gray -mountain chain,--the outline of a sierra. Approaching nearer, we discern -other hill summits rounding up and shouldering away behind the chain -itself. Then the nearest heights begin to turn faint green--very slowly. -Right before the outermost spur of cliff, fantastic shapes of rock are -rising sheer from the water: partly green, partly reddish-gray where the -surface remains unclothed by creepers and shrubs. Between them the sea -leaps and whitens. - -... And we begin to steam along a magnificent tropical coast,--before a -billowing of hills wrapped in forest from sea to summit,--astonishing -forest, dense, sombre, impervious to sun--every gap a blackness as of -ink. Giant palms here and there overtop the dense, foliage; and queer -monster trees rise above the forest-level against the blue,--spreading -out huge flat crests from which masses of lianas stream down. This -forest-front has the apparent solidity of a wall, and forty-five miles -of it undulate uninterruptedly by us--rising by terraces, or projecting -like turret-lines, or shooting up into semblance of cathedral forms or -suggestions of castellated architecture.... But the secrets of these -woods have not been unexplored;--one of the noblest writers of our time -has so beautifully and fully written of them as to leave little for any -one else to say. He who knows Charles Kingsley's "At Last" probably -knows the woods of Trinidad far better than many who pass them daily. - - -Even as observed from the steamer's deck, the mountains and forests of -Trinidad have an aspect very different from those of the other -Antilles. The heights are less lofty,--less jagged and abrupt,--with -rounded summits; the peaks of Martinique or Dominica rise fully -two thousand feet higher. The land itself is a totally different -formation,--anciently being a portion of the continent; and its flora -and fauna are of South America. - -... There comes a great cool whiff of wind,--another and another;--then -a mighty breath begins to blow steadily upon us,--the breath of the -Orinoco.... It grows dark before we pass through the Ape's Mouth, to -anchor in one of the calmest harbors in the world,--never disturbed by -hurricanes. Over unruffled water the lights of Port-of-Spain shoot long -still yellow beams.... The night grows chill;--the air is made frigid by -the breath of the enormous river and the vapors of the great woods. - - - - -XXIX - - -... Sunrise: a morning of supernal beauty,--the sky of a fairy -tale,--the sea of a love-poem. - -Under a heaven of exquisitely tender blue, the whole smooth sea has a -perfect luminous dove-color,--the horizon being filled to a great height -with greenish-golden haze,--a mist of unspeakably sweet tint, a hue -that, imitated in any aquarelle, would be cried out against as an -impossibility. As yet the hills are nearly all gray, the forests also -inwrapping them are gray and ghostly, for the sun has just risen above -them, and vapors hang like a veil between. Then, over the glassy level -of the flood, bands of purple and violet and pale blue and fluid gold -begin to shoot and quiver and broaden; these are the currents of the -morning, catching varying color with the deepening of the day and the -lifting of the tide. - -Then, as the sun rises higher, green masses begin to glimmer among the -grays; the outlines of the forest summits commence to define themselves -through the vapory light, to left and right of the great glow. Only the -city still remains invisible; it lies exactly between us and the -downpour of solar splendor, and the mists there have caught such -radiance that the place seems hidden by a fog of fire. Gradually the -gold-green of the horizon changes to a pure yellow; the hills take soft, -rich, sensuous colors. One of the more remote has turned a marvellous -tone--a seemingly diaphanous aureate color, the very ghost of gold. But -at last all of them sharpen bluely, show bright folds and ribbings of -green through their haze. The valleys remain awhile clouded, as if -filled with something like blue smoke; but the projecting masses of -cliff and slope swiftly change their misty green to a warmer hue. All -these tints and colors have a spectral charm, a preternatural -loveliness; everything seems subdued, softened, semi-vaporized,--the -only very sharply defined silhouettes being those of the little becalmed -ships sprinkling the western water, all spreading colored wings to catch -the morning breeze. - -The more the sun ascends, the more rapid the development of the -landscape out of vapory blue; the hills all become green-faced, reveal -the details of frondage. The wind fills the waiting sails--white, red, -yellow,--ripples the water, and turns it green. Little fish begin to -leap; they spring and fall in glittering showers like opalescent blown -spray. And at last, through the fading vapor, dew-glittering red-tiled -roofs reveal themselves: the city is unveiled--a city full of color, -somewhat quaint, somewhat Spanish-looking--a little like St. Pierre, a -little like New Orleans in the old quarter; everywhere fine tall palms. - - - - -XXX - - -Ashore, through a black swarming and a great hum of creole chatter.... -Warm yellow narrow streets under a burning blue day;--a confused -impression of long vistas, of low pretty houses and cottages, more or -less quaint, bathed in sun and yellow-wash,---and avenues of -shade-trees,--and low garden-walls overtopped by waving banana leaves -and fronds of palms.... A general sensation of drowsy warmth and vast -light and exotic vegetation,--coupled with some vague disappointment at -the absence of that picturesque humanity that delighted us in the -streets of St. Pierre, Martinique. The bright costumes of the French -colonies are not visible here: there is nothing like them in any of the -English islands. Nevertheless, this wonderful Trinidad is as unique -ethnologically as it is otherwise remarkable among all the other -Antilles. It has three distinct creole populations,--English, Spanish, -and French,--besides its German and Madeiran settlers. There is also a -special black or half-breed element, corresponding to each creole race, -and speaking the language of each: there are fifty thousand Hindoo -coolies, and a numerous body of Chinese. Still, this extraordinary -diversity of race elements does not make itself at once apparent to the -stranger. Your first impression, as you pass through the black crowd -upon the wharf, is that of being among a population as nearly African as -that of Barbadoes; and indeed the black element dominates to such an -extent that upon the streets white faces look strange by contrast. When -a white face does appear, it is usually under the shadow of an Indian -helmet, and heavily bearded, and austere: the physiognomy of one used to -command. Against the fantastic ethnic background of all this colonial -life, this strong, bearded English visage takes something of heroic -relief;--one feels, in a totally novel way, the dignity of a white skin. - -... I hire a carriage to take me to the nearest coolie village;--a -delightful drive.... Sometimes the smooth white road curves round the -slope of a forest-covered mountain;--sometimes overlooks a valley -shining with twenty different shades of surface green;--sometimes -traverses marvellous natural arcades formed by the interweaving and -intercrossing of bamboos fifty feet high. Rising in vast clumps, and -spreading out sheaf-wise from the soil towards the sky, the curves of -their beautiful jointed stems meet at such perfect angles above the way, -and on either side of it, as to imitate almost exactly the elaborate -Gothic arch-work of old abbey cloisters. Above the road, shadowing the -slopes of lofty hills, forests beetle in dizzy precipices of verdure. -They are green--burning, flashing green--covered with parasitic green -creepers and vines; they show enormous forms, or rather dreams of form, -fetichistic and startling. Banana leaves flicker and flutter along the -way-side; palms shoot up to vast altitudes, like pillars of white metal; -and there is a perpetual shifting of foliage color, from yellow-green to -orange, from reddish-green to purple, from emerald-green to black-green. -But the background color, the dominant tone, is like the plumage of a -green parrot. - -... We drive into the coolie village, along a narrower way, lined with -plantain-trees, bananas, flamboyants, and unfamiliar shrubs with large -broad leaves. Here and there are cocoa-palms. Beyond the little ditches -on either side, occupying openings in the natural hedge, are the -dwellings--wooden cabins, widely separated from each other. The narrow -lanes that enter the road are also lined with habitations, half hidden -by banana-trees. There is a prodigious glare, an intense heat. Around, -above the trees and the roofs, rise the far hill shapes, some brightly -verdant, some cloudy blue, some gray. The road and the lanes are almost -deserted; there is little shade; only at intervals some slender brown -girl or naked baby appears at a door-way. The carriage halts before a -shed built against a wall--a simple roof of palm thatch supported upon -jointed posts of bamboo. - -It is a little coolie temple. A few weary Indian laborers slumber in its -shadow; pretty naked children, with silver rings round their ankles, are -playing there with a white dog. Painted over the wall surface, in red, -yellow, brown, blue, and green designs upon a white ground, are -extraordinary figures of gods and goddesses. They have several pairs of -arms, brandishing mysterious things,--they seem to dance, gesticulate, -threaten; but they are all very naif,--remind one of the first efforts -of a child with the first box of paints. While I am looking at these -things, one coolie after another wakes up (these men sleep lightly) and -begins to observe me almost as curiously, and I fear much less kindly, -than I have been observing the gods. "Where is your babagee?" I inquire. -No one seems to comprehend my question; the gravity of each dark face -remains unrelaxed. Yet I would have liked to make an offering unto Siva. - - -... Outside the Indian goldsmith's cabin, palm shadows are crawling -slowly to and fro in the white glare, like shapes of tarantulas. Inside, -the heat is augmented by the tiny charcoal furnace which glows beside a -ridiculous little anvil set into a wooden block buried level with the -soil. Through a rear door come odors of unknown flowers and the cool -brilliant green of banana leaves.... A minute of waiting in the hot -silence;--then, noiselessly as a phantom, the nude-limbed smith enters -by a rear door,--squats down, without a word, on his little mat beside -his little anvil,--and turns towards me, inquiringly, a face half veiled -by a black beard,--a turbaned Indian face, sharp, severe, and slightly -unpleasant in expression. "_Vlé béras!_" explains my creole driver, -pointing to his client. The smith opens his lips to utter in the tone of -a call the single syllable "_Ra!_" then folds his arms. - -Almost immediately a young Hindoo woman enters, squats down on the -earthen floor at the end of the bench which forms the only furniture of -the shop, and turns upon me a pair of the finest black eyes I have ever -seen,--like the eyes of a fawn. She is very simply clad in a coolie robe -leaving arms and ankles bare, and clinging about the figure in gracious -folds; her color is a clear bright brown--new bronze; her face a fine -oval, and charmingly aquiline. I perceive a little silver ring, in the -form of a twisted snake, upon the slender second toe of each bare foot; -upon each arm she has at least ten heavy silver rings; there are also -large silver rings about her ankles; a gold flower is fixed by a little -hook in one nostril, and two immense silver circles, shaped like new -moons, shimmer in her ears. The smith mutters something to her in his -Indian tongue. She rises, and seating herself on the bench beside me, in -an attitude of perfect grace, holds out one beautiful brown arm to me -that I may choose a ring. - -The arm is much more worthy of attention than the rings: it has the -tint, the smoothness, the symmetry, of a fine statuary's work in -metal;--the upper arm, tattooed with a bluish circle of arabesques, is -otherwise unadorned; all the bracelets are on the fore-arm. Very clumsy -and coarse they prove to be on closer examination: it was the fine dark -skin which by color contrast made them look so pretty. I choose the -outer one, a round ring with terminations shaped like viper heads;--the -smith inserts a pair of tongs between these ends, presses outward slowly -and strongly, and the ring is off. It has a faint musky odor, not -unpleasant, the perfume of the tropical flesh it clung to. I would have -taken it thus; but the smith snatches it from me, heats it red in his -little charcoal furnace, hammers it into a nearly perfect circle again, -slakes it, and burnishes it. - -Then I ask for children's _béras_, or bracelets; and the young mother -brings in her own baby girl,--a little darling just able to walk. She -has extraordinary eyes;--the mother's eyes magnified (the father's are -small and fierce). I bargain for the single pair of thin rings on her -little wrists;--while the smith is taking them off, the child keeps her -wonderful gaze fixed on my face. Then I observe that the peculiarity of -the eye is the size of the iris rather than the size of the ball. These -eyes are not soft like the mother's, after all; they are ungentle, -beautiful as they are; they have the dark and splendid flame of the eyes -of a great bird--a bird of prey. - - -... She will grow up, this little maid, into a slender, graceful woman, -very beautiful, no doubt; perhaps a little dangerous. She will marry, of -course: probably she is betrothed even now, according to Indian -custom,--pledged to some brown boy, the son of a friend. It will not be -so many years before the day of their noisy wedding: girls shoot up -under this sun with as swift a growth as those broad-leaved beautiful -shapes which fill the open door-way with quivering emerald. And she will -know the witchcraft of those eyes, will feel the temptation to use -them,--perhaps to smile one of those smiles which have power over life -and death. - -And then the old coolie story! One day, in the yellowing cane-fields, -among the swarm of veiled and turbaned workers, a word is overheard, a -side glance intercepted;--there is the swirling flash of a cutlass -blade; a shrieking gathering of women about a headless corpse in the -sun; and passing cityward, between armed and helmeted men, the vision of -an Indian prisoner, blood-crimsoned, walking very steadily, very erect, -with the solemnity of a judge, the dry bright gaze of an idol.... - - - - -XXXI - - -... We steam very slowly into the harbor of St. George, Grenada, in dead -silence. No cannon-signal allowed here.... Some one suggests that the -violence of the echoes in this harbor renders the firing of cannon -dangerous; somebody else says the town is in so ruinous a condition that -the report of a gun would shake it down. - -... There are heavy damp smells in the warm air as of mould, or of wet -clay freshly upturned. - -This harbor is a deep clear basin, surrounded and shadowed by immense -volcanic hills, all green. The opening by which we entered is cut off -from sight by a promontory, and hill shapes beyond the promontory;--we -seem to be in the innermost ring of a double crater. There is a -continuous shimmering and plashing of leaping fish in the shadow of the -loftiest height, which reaches half across the water. - -As it climbs up the base of the huge hill at a precipitous angle, the -city can be seen from the steamer's deck almost as in a bird's-eye view. -A senescent city; mostly antiquated Spanish architecture,--ponderous -archways and earthquake-proof walls. The yellow buildings fronting us -beyond the wharf seem half decayed; they are strangely streaked with -green, look as if they had been long under water. We row ashore, land in -a crowd of lazy-looking, silent blacks. - -... What a quaint, dawdling, sleepy place it is! All these narrow -streets are falling into ruin; everywhere the same green stains upon the -walls, as of slime left by a flood; everywhere disjointed brickwork, -crumbling roofs, pungent odors of mould. Yet this Spanish architecture -was built to endure; those yellow, blue, or green walls were constructed -with the solidity of fortress-work; the very stairs are stone; the -balustrades and the railings were made of good wrought iron. In a -Northern clime such edifices would resist the wear and tear of five -hundred years. But here the powers of disintegration are extraordinary, -and the very air would seem to have the devouring force of an acid. All -surfaces and angles are yielding to the attacks of time, weather, and -microscopic organisms; paint peels, stucco falls, tiles tumble, stones -slip out of place, and in every chink tiny green things nestle, -propagating themselves through the jointures and dislocating the -masonry. There is an appalling mouldiness, an exaggerated mossiness--the -mystery and the melancholy of a city deserted. Old warehouses without -signs, huge and void, are opened regularly every day for so many hours; -yet the business of the aged merchants within seems to be a -problem;--you might fancy those gray men were always waiting for ships -that sailed away a generation ago, and will never return. You see no -customers entering the stores, but only a black mendicant from time to -time. And high above all this, overlooking streets too steep for any -vehicle, slope the red walls of the mouldering fort, patched with the -viridescence of ruin. - - -By a road leading up beyond the city, you reach the cemetery. The -staggering iron gates by which you enter it are almost rusted from their -hinges, and the low wall enclosing it is nearly all verdant. Within, you -see a wilderness of strange weeds, vines, creepers, fantastic shrubs run -mad, with a few palms mounting above the green confusion;--only here and -there a gleam of slabs with inscriptions half erased. Such as you can -read are epitaphs of seamen, dating back to the years 1800, 1802, 1812. -Over these lizards are running; undulations in the weeds warn you to -beware of snakes; toads leap away as you proceed; and you observe -everywhere, crickets perched--grass-colored creatures with two ruby -specks for eyes. They make a sound shrill as the scream of machinery -bevelling marble. At the farther end of the cemetery is a heavy ruin -that would seem to have once been part of a church: it is so covered -with creeping weeds now that you only distinguish the masonry on close -approach, and high trees are growing within it. - -There is something in tropical ruin peculiarly and terribly impressive: -this luxuriant, evergreen, ever-splendid Nature consumes the results of -human endeavor so swiftly, buries memories so profoundly, distorts the -labors of generations so grotesquely, that one feels here, as nowhere -else, how ephemeral man is, how intense and how tireless the effort -necessary to preserve his frail creations even a little while from the -vast unconscious forces antagonistic to all stability, to all factitious -equilibrium. - - -... A gloomy road winds high around one cliff overlooking the hollow of -the bay. Following it, you pass under extraordinarily dark shadows of -foliage, and over a blackish soil strewn with pretty bright green fruit -that has fallen from above. Do not touch them even with the tip of your -finger! Those are manchineel apples; with their milky juice the old -Caribs were wont to poison the barbs of their parrot-feathered arrows. -Over the mould, swarming among the venomous fruit, innumerable crabs -make a sound almost like the murmuring of water. Some are very large, -with prodigious stalked eyes, and claws white as ivory, and a red -cuirass; others, very small and very swift in their movements, are -raspberry-colored; others, again, are apple-green, with queer mottlings -of black and white. There is an unpleasant odor of decay in the -air--vegetable decay. - -Emerging from the shadow of the manchineel-trees, you may follow the -road up, up, up, under beetling cliffs of plutonian rock that seem about -to topple down upon the path-way. The rock is naked and black near the -road; higher, it is veiled by a heavy green drapery of lianas, curling -creepers, unfamiliar vines. All around you are sounds of crawling, dull -echoes of dropping; the thick growths far up waver in the breathless air -as if something were moving sinuously through them. And always the odor -of humid decomposition. Farther on, the road looks wilder, sloping -between black rocks, through strange vaultings of foliage and -night-black shadows. Its lonesomeness oppresses; one returns without -regret, by rusting gate-ways and tottering walls, back to the old West -Indian city rotting in the sun. - -... Yet Grenada, despite the dilapidation of her capital and the seeming -desolation of its environs, is not the least prosperous of the Antilles. -Other islands have been less fortunate: the era of depression has almost -passed for Grenada; through the rapid development of her secondary -cultures--coffee and cocoa--she hopes with good reason to repair some of -the vast losses involved by the decay of the sugar industry. - -Still, in this silence of mouldering streets, this melancholy of -abandoned dwellings, this invasion of vegetation, there is a suggestion -of what any West Indian port might become when the resources of the -island had been exhausted, and its commerce ruined. After all persons of -means and energy enough to seek other fields of industry and enterprise -had taken their departure, and the plantations had been abandoned, and -the warehouses closed up forever, and the voiceless wharves left to rot -down into the green water, Nature would soon so veil the place as to -obliterate every outward visible sign of the past. In scarcely more than -a generation from the time that the last merchant steamer had taken her -departure some traveller might look for the once populous and busy mart -in vain: vegetation would have devoured it. - -... In the mixed English and creole speech of the black population one -can discern evidence of a linguistic transition. The original French -patois is being rapidly forgotten or transformed irrecognizably. - -Now, in almost every island the negro idiom is different. So often have -some of the Antilles changed owners, moreover, that in them the negro -has never been able to form a true _patois._ He had scarcely acquired -some idea of the language of his first masters, when other rulers and -another tongue were thrust upon him,--and this may have occurred three -or four times! The result is a totally incoherent agglomeration of -speech-forms--a _baragouin_ fantastic and unintelligible beyond the -power of any one to imagine who has not heard it.... - - - - -XXXII - - -... A beautiful fantastic shape floats to us through the morning light; -first cloudy gold like the horizon, then pearly gray, then varying blue, -with growing green lights;--Saint Lucia. Most strangely formed of all -this volcanic family;--everywhere mountainings sharp as broken crystals. -Far off the Pitons--twin peaks of the high coast--show softer contours, -like two black breasts pointing against the sky.... - -... As we enter the harbor of Castries, the lines of the land seem no -less exquisitely odd, in spite of their rich verdure, than when viewed -afar off;--they have a particular pitch of angle.... Other of these -islands show more or less family resemblance;--you might readily mistake -one silhouette for another as seen at a distance, even after several -West Indian journeys. But Saint Lucia at once impresses you by its -eccentricity. - -Castries, drowsing under palm leaves at the edge of its curving -harbor,--perhaps an ancient crater,--seems more of a village than a -town: streets of low cottages and little tropic gardens. It has a -handsome half-breed population: the old French colonial manners have -been less changed here by English influence than in Saint Kitt's and -elsewhere;--the creole _patois_ is still spoken, though the costumes -have changed.... A more beautiful situation could scarcely be -imagined,--even in this tropic world. In the massing of green heights -about the little town are gaps showing groves of palm beyond; but the -peak summits catch the clouds. Behind us the harbor mouth seems spanned -by steel-blue bars: these are lines of currents. Away, on either hand, -volcanic hills are billowing to vapory distance; and in their nearer -hollows are beautiful deepenings of color: ponded shades of diaphanous -blue or purplish tone.... I first remarked this extraordinary coloring -of shadows in Martinique, where it exists to a degree that tempts one to -believe the island has a special atmosphere of its own.... A friend -tells me the phenomenon is probably due to inorganic substances floating -in the air,--each substance in diffusion having its own index of -refraction. Substances so held in suspension by vapors would vary -according to the nature of soil in different islands, and might thus -produce special local effects of atmospheric tinting. - -... We remain but half an hour at Castries; then steam along the coast -to take in freight at another port. Always the same delicious -color-effects as we proceed, with new and surprising visions of hills. -The near slopes descending to the sea are a radiant green, with streaks -and specklings of darker verdure;--the farther-rising hills faint blue, -with green saliencies catching the sun;--and beyond these are upheavals -of luminous gray--pearl-gray--sharpened in the silver glow of the -horizon.... The general impression of the whole landscape is one of -motion suddenly petrified,--of an earthquake surging and tossing -suddenly arrested and fixed: a raging of cones and peaks and monstrous -truncated shapes.... We approach the Pitons. - -Seen afar off, they first appeared twin mammiform peaks,--naked and dark -against the sky; but now they begin to brighten a little and show -color,--also to change form. They take a lilaceous hue, broken by gray -and green fights; and as we draw yet nearer they prove dissimilar in -both shape and tint.... Now they separate before us, throwing long -pyramidal shadows across the steamer's path. Then, as they open to our -coming, between them a sea bay is revealed--a very lovely curving bay, -bounded by hollow cliffs of fiery green. At either side of the gap the -Pitons rise like monster pylônes. And a charming little settlement, a -beautiful sugar-plantation, is nestling there between them, on the very -edge of the bay. - -Out of a bright sea of verdure, speckled with oases of darker foliage, -these Pitons from the land side tower in sombre vegetation. Very high -up, on the nearer one, amid the wooded slopes, you can see houses -perched; and there are bright breaks in the color there--tiny mountain -pastures that look like patches of green silk velvet. - - -... We pass the Pitons, and enter another little craterine harbor, to -cast anchor before the village of Choiseul. It lies on a ledge above the -beach and under high hills: we land through a surf, running the boat -high up on soft yellowish sand. A delicious saline scent of sea-weed. - -It is disappointing, the village: it is merely one cross of brief -streets, lined with blackening wooden dwellings; there are no buildings -worth looking at, except the queer old French church, steep-roofed and -bristling with points that look like extinguishers. Over broad reaches -of lava rock a shallow river flows by the village to the sea, gurgling -under shadows of tamarind foliage. It passes beside the market-place--a -market-place without stalls, benches, sheds, or pavements: meats, -fruits, and vegetables are simply fastened to the trees. Women are -washing and naked children bathing in the stream; they are -bronze-skinned, a fine dark color with a faint tint of red in it.... -There is little else to look at: steep wooded hills cut off the view -towards the interior. - -But over the verge of the sea there is something strange growing -visible, looming up like a beautiful yellow cloud. It is an island, so -lofty, so luminous, so phantom-like, that it seems a vision of the -Island of the Seven Cities. It is only the form of St. Vincent, bathed -in vapory gold by the sun. - - -... Evening at La Soufrière: still another semicircular bay in a hollow -of green hills. Glens hold bluish shadows. The color of the heights is -very tender; but there are long streaks and patches of dark green, -marking watercourses and very abrupt surfaces. From the western side -immense shadows are pitched brokenly across the valley and over half the -roofs of the palmy town. There is a little river flowing down to the bay -on the left; and west of it a walled cemetery's visible, out of which -one monumental palm rises to a sublime height: its crest still bathes in -the sun, above the invading shadow. Night approaches; the shade of the -bills inundates all the landscape, rises even over the palm-crest. Then, -black-towering into the golden glow of sunset, the land loses all its -color, all its charm; forms of frondage, variations of tint, become -invisible. Saint Lucia is only a monstrous silhouette; all its billowing -hills, its volcanic bays, its amphitheatrical valleys, turn black as -ebony. - -And you behold before you a geological dream, a vision of the primeval -sea: the apparition of the land as first brought forth, all peak-tossed -and fissured and naked and grim, in the tremendous birth of an -archipelago. - - - - -XXXIII - - -Homeward bound. - -Again the enormous poem of azure and emerald unrolls before us, but in -order inverse; again is the island-Litany of the Saints repeated for us, -but now backward. All the bright familiar harbors once more open to -receive us;--each lovely Shape floats to us again, first golden yellow, -then vapory gray, then ghostly blue, but always sharply radiant at last, -symmetrically exquisite, as if chiselled out of amethyst and emerald and -sapphire. We review the same wondrous wrinkling of volcanic hills, the -cities that sit in extinct craters, the woods that tower to heaven, the -peaks perpetually wearing that luminous cloud which seems the breathing -of each island-life,--its vital manifestation.... - - -[Illustration: THE LION OF GUN HILL, BARBADOES -_A heroic statue carved in the native rock by a -British army officer._] - - -... Only now do the long succession of exotic and unfamiliar impressions -received begin to group and blend, to form homogeneous results,--general -ideas or convictions. Strongest among these is the belief that the white -race is disappearing from these islands, acquired and held at so vast a -cost of blood and treasure. Reasons almost beyond enumeration have been -advanced--economical, climatic, ethnical, political--all of which -contain truth, yet no single one of which can wholly explain the fact. -Already the white West Indian populations are diminishing at a rate that -almost staggers credibility. In the island paradise of Martinique in -1848 there were 12,000 whites; now, against more than 160,000 blacks and -half-breeds, there are perhaps 5000 whites left to maintain the ethnic -struggle, and the number of these latter is annually growing less. Many -of the British islands have been almost deserted by their former -cultivators: St. Vincent is becoming desolate: Tobago is a ruin; St. -Martin lies half abandoned; St. Christopher is crumbling; Grenada has -lost more than half her whites; St. Thomas, once the most prosperous, -the most active, the most cosmopolitan of West Indian ports, is in full -decadence. And while the white element is disappearing, the dark races -are multiplying as never before;--the increase of the negro and -half-breed populations has been everywhere one of the startling results -of emancipation. The general belief among the creole whites, of the -Lesser Antilles would seem to confirm the old prediction that the slave -races of the past must become the masters of the future. Here and there -the struggle may be greatly prolonged, but everywhere the ultimate -result must be the same, unless the present conditions of commerce and -production become marvellously changed. The exterminated Indian peoples -of the Antilles have already been replaced by populations equally fitted -to cope with the forces of the nature about them,--that splendid and -terrible Nature of the tropics which consumes the energies of the races -of the North, which devours all that has been accomplished by their -heroism or their crimes,--effacing their cities, rejecting their -civilization. To those peoples physiologically in harmony with this -Nature belong all the chances of victory in the contest--already -begun--for racial supremacy. - -But with the disappearance of the white populations the ethnical problem -would be still unsettled. Between the black and mixed peoples prevail -hatreds more enduring and more intense than any race prejudices between -whites and freedmen in the past;--a new struggle for supremacy could not -fail to begin, with the perpetual augmentation of numbers, the -ever-increasing competition for existence. And the true black element, -more numerically powerful, more fertile, more cunning, better adapted to -pyrogenic climate and tropical environment, would surely win. All these -mixed races, all these beautiful fruit-colored populations, seem doomed -to extinction: the future tendency must be to universal blackness, if -existing conditions continue--perhaps to universal savagery. Everywhere -the sins of the past have borne the same bruit, have furnished the -colonies with social enigmas that mock the wisdom of legislators,--a -dragon-crop of problems that no modern political science has yet proved -competent to deal with. Can it even be hoped that future sociologists -will be able to answer them, after Nature--who never forgives--shall -have exacted the utmost possible retribution for all the crimes and -follies of three hundred years? - - -[Illustration] - - - - -MARTINIQUE -SKETCHES - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LES PORTEUSES - - -I - - -When you find yourself for the first time, upon some unshadowed day, in -the delightful West Indian city of St. Pierre,--supposing that you own -the sense of poetry, the recollections of a student,--there is apt to -steal upon your fancy an impression of having seen it all before, ever -so long ago,--you cannot tell where. The sensation of some happy dream -you cannot wholly recall might be compared to this feeling. In the -simplicity and solidity of the quaint architecture,--in the eccentricity -of bright narrow streets, all aglow with warm coloring,--in the tints of -roof and wall, antiquated by streakings and patchings of mould greens -and grays,--in the startling absence of window-sashes, glass, gas -lamps, and chimneys,--in the blossom-tenderness of the blue heaven, the -splendor of tropic light, and the warmth of the tropic wind,--you find -less the impression of a scene of to-day than the sensation of something -that was and is not. Slowly this feeling strengthens with your pleasure -in the colorific radiance of costume,--the semi-nudity of passing -figures,--the puissant shapeliness of torsos ruddily swart like statue -metal,--the rounded outline of limbs yellow as tropic fruit,--the grace -of attitudes,--the unconscious harmony of groupings,--the gathering and -folding and falling of light robes that oscillate with swaying of free -hips,--the sculptural symmetry of unshod feet. You look up and down the -lemon-tinted streets,--down to the dazzling azure brightness of meeting -sky and sea; up to the perpetual verdure of mountain woods--wondering at -the mellowness of tones, the sharpness of lines in the light, the -diaphaneity of colored shadows; always asking memory: "When?... where -did I see all this... long ago?"... - -Then, perhaps, your gaze is suddenly riveted by the vast and -solemn beauty of the verdant violet-shaded mass of the dead -Volcano,--high-towering above the town, visible from all its ways, and -umbraged, maybe, with thinnest curlings of cloud,--like spectres of its -ancient smoking to heaven. And all at once the secret of your dream is -revealed, with the rising of many a luminous memory,--dreams of the -Idyllists, flowers of old Sicilian song, fancies limned upon Pompeiian -walls. For a moment the illusion is delicious: you comprehend as never -before the charm of a vanished world,--the antique life, the story of -terra-cottas and graven stones and gracious things exhumed: even the sun -is not of to-day, but of twenty centuries gone;--thus, and under such a -light, walked the women of the elder world. You know the fancy -absurd;--that the power of the orb has visibly abated nothing in all the -eras of man,--that millions are the ages of his almighty glory; but for -one instant of reverie he seemeth larger,--even that sun impossible who -coloreth the words, coloreth the works of artist-lovers of the past, -with the gold light of dreams. - -Too soon the hallucination is broken by modern sounds, dissipated by -modern sights,--rough trolling of sailors descending to their -boats,--the heavy boom of a packet's signal-gun,--the passing of an -American buggy. Instantly you become aware that the melodious tongue -spoken by the passing throng is neither Hellenic nor Roman: only the -beautiful childish speech of French slaves. - - - - -II - - -But what slaves were the fathers of this free generation? Your -anthropologists, your ethnologists, seem at fault here: the African -traits have become transformed; the African characteristics have been so -modified within little more than two hundred years--by interblending of -blood, by habit, by soil and sun and all those natural powers which -shape the mould of races,--that you may look in vain for verification of -ethnological assertions.... No: the heel does _not_ protrude;--the foot -is _not_ flat, but finely arched;--the extremities are not large;--all -the limbs taper, all the muscles are developed; and prognathism has -become so rare that months of research may not yield a single striking -case of it.... No: this is a special race, peculiar to the island as are -the shapes of its peaks,--a mountain race; and mountain races are -comely.... Compare it with the population of black Barbadoes, where the -apish grossness of African coast types has been perpetuated -unchanged;--and the contrast may well astonish!... - - - - -III - - -The erect carriage and steady swift walk of the women who bear burdens -is especially likely to impress the artistic observer: it is the sight -of such passers-by which gives, above all, the antique tone and color to -his first sensations;--and the larger part of the female population of -mixed race are practised carriers. Nearly all the transportation of -light merchandise, as well as of meats, fruits, vegetables, and food -stuffs,--to and from the interior,--is effected upon human heads. At -some of the ports the regular local packets are loaded and unloaded by -women and girls,--able to carry any trunk or box to its destination. At -Fort-de-France the great steamers of the Compagnie Générale -Transatlantique, are entirely coaled by women, who carry the coal on -their heads, singing as they come and go in processions of hundreds; and -the work is done with incredible rapidity. Now, the creole _porteuse_, -or female carrier, is certainly one of the most remarkable physical -types in the world; and whatever artistic enthusiasm her graceful port, -lithe walk, or half-savage beauty may inspire you with, you can form no -idea, if a total stranger, what a really wonderful being she is.... Let -me tell you something about that highest type of professional female -carrier, which is to the _charbonnière_, or coaling-girl, what the -thorough-bred racer is to the draught-horse,--the type of porteuse -selected for swiftness and endurance to distribute goods in the interior -parishes, or to sell on commission at long distances. To the same class -naturally belong those country carriers able to act as porteuses of -plantation produce, fruits, or vegetables,--between the nearer ports and -their own interior parishes.... Those who believe that great physical -endurance and physical energy cannot exist in the tropics do not know -the creole carrier-girl. - - - - -IV - - -At a very early age--perhaps at five years--she learns to carry small -articles upon her head,--a bowl of rice,--a _dobanne_, or red earthen -decanter, full of water--even an orange on a plate; and before long she -is able to balance these perfectly without using her hands to steady -them. (I have often seen children actually run with cans of water upon -their heads, and never spill a drop.) At nine or ten she is able to -carry thus a tolerably heavy basket, or a trait (a wooden tray with deep -outward sloping sides) containing a weight of from twenty to thirty -pounds; and is able to accompany her mother, sister, or cousin on long -peddling journeys,--walking barefoot twelve and fifteen miles a day. At -sixteen or seventeen she is a tall robust girl,--lithe, vigorous, -tough,--all tendon and hard flesh;--she carries a tray or a basket of -the largest size, and a burden of one hundred and twenty to one hundred -and fifty pounds weight;--she can now earn about thirty francs (about -six dollars) a month, _by walking fifty miles a day_, as an itinerant -seller. - -Among her class there are figures to make you dream of Atlanta;--and -all, whether ugly or attractive as to feature, are finely shapen as to -body and limb. Brought into existence by extraordinary necessities of -environment, the type is a peculiarly local one,--a type of human -thorough-bred representing the true secret of grace: economy of force. -There are no corpulent porteuses for the long interior routes; all are -built lightly and firmly as racers. There are no old porteuses;--to do -the work even at forty signifies a constitution of astounding solidity. -After the full force of youth and health is spent, the poor carrier must -seek lighter labor;--she can no longer compete with the girls. For in -this calling the young body is taxed to its utmost capacity of strength, -endurance, and rapid motion. - -As a general rule, the weight is such that no well-freighted porteuse -can, unassisted, either "load" or "unload" (_châgé_ or _déchâgé_, -in creole phrase); the effort to do so would burst a blood-vessel, -wrench a nerve, rupture a muscle. She cannot even sit down under her -burden without risk of breaking her neck: absolute perfection of the -balance is necessary for self-preservation. A case came under my own -observation of a woman rupturing a muscle in her arm through careless -haste in the mere act of aiding another to unload. - -And no one not a brute will ever refuse to aid a woman to lift or to -relieve herself of her burden;--you may see the wealthiest merchant, the -proudest planter, gladly do it;--the meanness of refusing, or of making -any conditions for the performance of this little kindness has only been -imagined in those strange Stories of Devils wherewith the oral and -uncollected literature of the creole abounds.[4] - - -[Footnote 4: _Extract from the "Story of Marie," as written from -dictation_: - -... Manman-à té ni yon goûte jà à caïe-li. Jà-la té touôp lou'de -pou Marie. Cé té li menm manman là qui té kallé pouend dileau. -Yon jou y pouend jà-la pou y té allé pouend dileau. Lhè manman-à -rivé bé la fontaine, y pa trouvé pésonne pou châgé y. Y rété; y ka crié, -"Toutt bon Chritien, vini châgé moin!" - -... This mamma had a great jar in her house. The jar was too -heavy for Marie. It was this mamma herself who used to go for -water. One day she took that jar to go for water. When this -mamma had got to the fountain, she could not find any one to load -her. She stood there, crying out, "Any good Christian, come load -me!" - -... Lhè manman rété y ouè pa té ni piess bon Chritien pou châgé -y. Y rété; y crié: "Pouloss, si pa ni bon Chritien» ni mauvais -Chritien! toutt mauvais Chritien vini châgé moin!" - - -Lhè y fini di ça, y ouè yon diabe qui ka vini, ka di conm ça, "Pou -moin châgé ou ça ou ké baill moin?" Manman-là di,—y réponne, -"Moin pa ni arien!" Diabe-la réponne y, "Y fau ba moin -Marie pou moin pé châgé ou." - -... As the mamma stood there she saw there was not a single -good Christian to help her load. She stood there, and cried out: -"Well, then, if there are no good Christians, there are bad Christians. -Any bad Christian, come and load me!" - -The moment she said that, she saw a devil coming, who said to -her, "If I load you what will you give me?" This mamma answered, -and said, "I have nothing!" The devil answered her, "Must give me -Marie if you want me to load you."] - - - - -V - - -Preparing for her journey, the young _màchanne_ (marchande) puts on -the poorest and briefest chemise in her possession, and the most worn of -her light calico robes. These are all she wears. The robe is drawn -upward and forward, so as to reach a little below the knee, and is -confined thus by a waist-string, or a long kerchief bound tightly round -the loins. Instead of a Madras or painted turban-kerchief, she binds a -plain _mouchoir_ neatly and closely about her head; and if her hair be -long, it is combed back and gathered into a loop behind. Then, with a -second mouchoir of coarser quality she makes a pad, or, as she calls it, -_tòche_, by winding the kerchief round her fingers as you would coil up -a piece of string;--and the soft mass, flattened with a patting of the -hand, is placed upon her head, over the coiffure. On this the great -loaded trait is poised. - -She wears no shoes! To wear shoes and do her work swiftly and well in -such a land of mountains would be impossible. She must climb thousands -and descend thousands of feet every day,--march up and down slopes so -steep that the horses of the country all break down after a few years of -similar journeying. The girl invariably outlasts the horse,--though -carrying an equal weight. Shoes, unless extraordinarily well made, would -shift place a little with every change from ascent to descent, or the -reverse, during the march,--would yield and loosen with the ever-varying -strain,--would compress the toes,--produce corns, bunions, raw places by -rubbing, and soon cripple the porteuse. Remember, she has to walk -perhaps fifty miles between dawn and dark, under a sun to which a single -hour's exposure, without the protection of an umbrella, is perilous to -any European or American--the terrible sun of the tropics! Sandals are -the only conceivable foot-gear suited to such a calling as hers; but she -needs no sandals: the soles of her feet are toughened so as to feel no -asperities, and present to sharp pebbles a surface at once yielding and -resisting, like a cushion of solid caoutchouc. - -Besides her load, she carries only a canvas purse tied to her girdle on -the right side, and on the left a very small bottle of rum, or white -tafia,--usually the latter, because it is so cheap.... For she may not -always find the Gouyave water to drink,--the cold clear pure stream -conveyed to the fountains of St. Pierre from the highest mountains by a -beautiful and marvellous plan of hydraulic engineering: she will have to -drink betimes the common spring-water of the bamboo-fountains on the -remoter high-roads; and this may cause dysentery if swallowed without a -spoonful of spirits. Therefore she never travels without a little -liquor. - - - - -VI - - -... So!--She is ready: "_Châgé moin, souplè, chè!_" She -bends to lift the end of the heavy trait: some one takes the -other,--_yon!--dè!--toua!_--it is on her head. Perhaps she winces an -instant;--the weight is not perfectly balanced; she settles it with her -hands,--gets it in the exact place. Then, all steady,--lithe, light, -half naked,--away she moves with a long springy step. So even her walk -that the burden never sways; yet so rapid her motion that however good a -walker you may fancy yourself to be you will tire out after a sustained -effort of fifteen minutes to follow her uphill. Fifteen minutes!--and -she can keep up that pace without slackening--save for a minute to eat -and drink at midday,--for at least twelve hours and fifty-six minutes, -the extreme length of a West Indian day. She starts before dawn; tries -to reach her resting-place by sunset: after dark, like all her people, -she is afraid of meeting _zombis._ - - -[Illustration: THE DEVIL'S DOOR, MARTINIQUE -_Each turn in the road discloses new scenes of tropical -splendor, beetling cliffs. and verdure-covered slopes._] - - -Let me give you some idea of her average speed under an average weight -of one hundred and twenty-five pounds,--estimates based partly upon my -own observations, partly upon the declarations of the trustworthy -merchants who employ her, and partly on the assertion of habitants of -the burghs or cities named--all of which statements perfectly agree. -From St. Pierre to Basse-Pointe, by the national road, the distance is a -trifle less than twenty-seven kilometres and three-quarters. She makes -the transit easily in three hours and a half; and returns in the -afternoon, after an absence of scarcely more than eight hours. From St. -Pierre to Morne Rouge--two thousand feet up in the mountains (an ascent -so abrupt that no one able to pay carriage-fare dreams of attempting to -walk it)--the distance is seven kilometres and three-quarters. She makes -it in little more than an hour. But this represents only the beginning -of her journey. She passes on to Grande Anse, twenty-one and -three-quarter kilometres away. But she does not rest there: she returns -at the same pace, and reaches St. Pierre before dark. From St. Pierre to -Gros-Morne the distance to be twice traversed by her is more than -thirty-two kilometres. A journey of sixty-four kilometres,--daily, -perhaps,--forty miles! And there are many màchannes who make yet longer -trips,--trips of three or four days' duration;--these rest at villages -upon their route. - - - - -VII - - -Such travel in such a country would be impossible but for the excellent -national roads,--limestone highways, solid, broad, faultlessly -graded,--that wind from town to town, from hamlet to hamlet, over -mountains, over ravines; ascending by zigzags to heights of twenty-five -hundred feet; traversing the primeval forests of the interior; now -skirting the dizziest precipices, now descending into the loveliest -valleys. There are thirty-one of these magnificent routes, with a total -length of 488,052 metres (more than 805 miles), whereof the construction -required engineering talent of the highest order,--the building of -bridges beyond counting, and devices the most ingenious to provide -against dangers of storms, floods and land-slips. Most have -drinking-fountains along their course at almost regular -intervals,--generally made by the negroes, who have a simple but -excellent plan for turning the water of a spring through bamboo pipes to -the road-way. Each road is also furnished with milestones, or rather -kilometre-stones; and the drainage is perfect enough to assure of the -highway becoming dry within fifteen minutes after the heaviest rain, so -long as the surface is maintained in tolerably good condition. Well-kept -embankments of earth (usually covered with a rich growth of mosses, -vines, and ferns), or even solid walls of masonry, line the side that -overhangs a dangerous depth. And all these highways pass through -landscapes of amazing beauty,--visions of mountains so many-tinted and -so singular of outline that they would almost seem to have been created -for the express purpose of compelling astonishment. This tropic Nature -appears to call into being nothing ordinary: the shapes which she evokes -are always either gracious or odd,--and her eccentricities, her -extravagances, have a fantastic charm, a grotesqueness as of artistic -whim. Even where the landscape-view is cut off by high woods the forms -of ancient trees--the infinite interwreathing of vine growths all on -fire with violence of blossom-color,--the enormous green outbursts of -balisiers, with leaves ten to thirteen feet long,--the columnar -solemnity of great palmistes,--the pliant quivering exquisiteness of -bamboo,--the furious splendor of roses run mad--more than atone for the -loss of the horizon. Sometimes you approach a steep covered with a -growth of what, at first glance, looks precisely like fine green fur: it -is a first-growth of young bamboo. Or you see a hill-side covered with -huge green feathers, all shelving down and overlapping as in the tail of -some unutterable bird: these are baby ferns. And where the road leaps -some deep ravine with a double or triple bridge of white stone, note -well what delicious shapes spring up into sunshine from the black -profundity on either hand! Palmiform you might hastily term them,--but -no palm was ever so gracile; no palm ever bore so dainty a head of green -plumes light as lace! These likewise are ferns (rare survivors, maybe, -of that period of monstrous vegetation which preceded the apparition of -man), beautiful tree-ferns, whose every young plume, unrolling in a -spiral from the bud, at first assumes the shape of a crozier,--a crozier -of emerald! Therefore are some of this species called "archbishop-trees" -no doubt.... But one might write for a hundred years of the sights to be -seen upon such a mountain road. - - - - -VIII - - -In every season, in almost every weather, the porteuse makes her -journey,--never heeding rain;--her goods being protected by double and -triple water-proof coverings well bound down over her trait. Yet these -tropical rains, coming suddenly with a cold wind upon her heated and -almost naked body, are to be feared. To any European or unacclimated -white such a wetting, while the pores are all open during a profuse -perspiration, would probably prove fatal: even for white natives the -result is always a serious and protracted illness. But the porteuse -seldom suffers in consequences: she seems proof against fevers, -rheumatisms, and ordinary colds. When she does break down, however, the -malady is a frightful one,--a pneumonia that carries off the victim -within forty-eight hours. Happily, among her class, these fatalities are -very rare. - -And scarcely less rare than such sudden deaths are instances of failure -to appear on time. In one case, the employer, a St. Pierre shopkeeper, -on finding his marchande more than an hour late, felt so certain -something very extraordinary must have happened that he sent out -messengers in all directions to make inquiries. It was found that the -woman had become a mother when only half-way upon her journey home.... -The child lived and thrived;--she is now a pretty chocolate-colored girl -of eight, who follows her mother every day from their mountain ajoupa -down to the city, and back again,--bearing a little trait upon her head. - - -[Illustration: THE ROAD TO ST. PIERRE -"_A hillside covered with huge green feathers... tree-ferns -whose every young plume, in a spiral from the -hud, at first assumes the shape of a crozier,--a crozier -of emerald!_"] - - -Murder for purposes of robbery is not an unknown crime in Martinique; -but I am told the porteuses are never molested. And yet some of these -girls carry merchandise to the value of hundreds of francs; and all -carry money,--the money received for goods sold, often a considerable -sum. This immunity may be partly owing to the fact that they travel -dining the greater part of the year only by day,--and usually in -company. A very pretty girl is seldom suffered to journey unprotected: -she has either a male escort or several experienced and powerful women -with her. In the cacao season--when carriers start from Grande Anse as -early as two o'clock in the morning, so as to reach St. Pierre by -dawn--they travel in strong companies of twenty or twenty-five, singing -on the way. As a general rule the younger girls at all times go two -together,--keeping step perfectly as a pair of blooded fillies; only the -veterans, or women selected for special work by reason of extraordinary -physical capabilities, go alone. To the latter class belong certain -girls employed by the great bakeries of Fort-de-France and St. Pierre: -these are veritable caryatides. They are probably the heaviest-laden of -all, carrying baskets of astounding size far up into the mountains -before daylight, so as to furnish country families with fresh bread at -an early hour; and for this labor they receive about four dollars -(twenty francs) a month and one loaf of bread per diem.... While -stopping at a friend's house among the hills, some two miles from -Fort-de-France, I saw the local bread-carrier halt before our porch one -morning, and a finer type of the race it would be difficult for a -sculptor to imagine. Six feet tall,--strength and grace united -throughout her whole figure from neck to heel; with that clear black -skin which is beautiful to any but ignorant or prejudiced eyes; and the -smooth, pleasing, solemn features of a sphinx,--she looked to me, as she -towered there in the gold light, a symbolic statue of Africa. Seeing me -smoking one of those long thin Martinique cigars called _bouts_, she -begged one; and, not happening to have another, I gave her the price of -a bunch of twenty,--ten sous. She took it without a smile, and went her -way. About an hour and a half later she came back and asked for me,--to -present me with the finest and largest mango I had ever seen, a monster -mango. She said she wanted to see me eat it, and sat down on the ground -to look on. While eating it, I learned that she had walked a whole mile -out of her way under that sky of fire, just to bring her little gift of -gratitude. - - - - -IX - - -Forty to fifty miles a day, always under a weight of more than a hundred -pounds,--for when the trait has been emptied she puts in stones for -ballast;--carrying her employer's merchandise and money over the -mountain ranges, beyond the peaks, across the ravines, through the -tropical forest, sometimes through by-ways haunted by the -fer-de-lance,--and this in summer or winter, the season of rains or the -season of heat, the time of fevers or the time of hurricanes, at a franc -a day!... How does she live upon it? - - -[Illustration: FORT-DE-FRANCE -_View from the old fortifications. In the distance -the bay, and beyond Trois Islets, where -Josephine was born._] - - -There are twenty sous to the franc. The girl leaves St. Pierre with her -load at early morning. At the second village, Morne Rouge, she halts to -buy one, two, or three biscuits at a sou apiece; and reaching -Ajoupa-Bouillon later in the forenoon, she may buy another biscuit or -two. Altogether she may be expected to eat five sous of biscuit or bread -before reaching Grande Anse, where she probably has a meal waiting for -her. This ought to cost her ten sous,--especially if there be meat in -her ragoût: which represents a total expense of fifteen sous for -eatables. Then there is the additional cost of the cheap liquor, which -she must mix with her drinking-water, as it would be more than dangerous -to swallow pure cold water in her heated condition; two or three sous -more. This almost makes the franc. But such a hasty and really erroneous -estimate does not include expenses of lodging and clothing;--she may -sleep on the bare floor sometimes, and twenty francs a year may keep her -in clothes; but she must rent the floor and pay for the clothes out of -that franc. As a matter of fact she not only does all this upon her -twenty sous a day, but can even economize something which will enable -her, when her youth and force decline, to start in business for herself. -And her economy will not seem so wonderful when I assure you that -thousands of men here--huge men muscled like bulls and lions—-live upon -an average expenditure of five sous a day. One sou of bread, two sous of -manioc flour, one sou of dried codfish, one sou of tafia: such is their -meal. - -There are women carriers who earn more than a franc a day,--women with a -particular talent for selling, who are paid on commission--from ten to -fifteen per cent. These eventually make themselves independent in many -instances;--they continue to sell and bargain in person, but hire a -young girl to carry the goods. - - - - -X - - -... "_Ou 'lè mâchonne!_" rings out a rich alto, resonant as the tone -of a gong, from behind the balisiers that shut in our garden. There are -two of them--no, three--Maiyotte, Chéchelle, and Rina. Maiyotte and -Chéchelle have just arrived from St. Pierre;--Rina comes from -Gros-Morne with fruits and vegetables. Suppose we call them all in, and -see what they have got. Maiyotte and Chéchelle sell on commission; Rina -sells for her mother, who has a little garden at Gros-Morne. - -... "_Bonjou', Maiyotte;--bonjou', Chéchelle! comment ou kallé, Rina, -chè!_"... Throw open the folding-doors to let the great trays pass.... -Now all three are unloaded by old Théréza and by young Adou;--all the -packs are on the floor, and the water-proof wrappings are being -uncorded, while Ah-Manmzell, the adopted child, brings the rum and water -for the tall walkers. - -... "Oh, what a medley, Maiyotte!"... Inkstands and wooden cows; purses -and paper dogs and cats; dolls and cosmetics; pins and needles and soap -and tooth-brushes; candied fruits and smoking-caps; _pelotes_ of thread, -and tapes, and ribbons, and laces, and Madeira wine; cuffs, and collars, -and dancing-shoes, and tobacco sachets.... But what is in that little -flat bundle? Presents for your _guêpe_, if you have one.... -_Jesis-Maïa!_--the pretty foulards! Azure and yellow in checkerings; -orange and crimson in stripes; rose and scarlet in plaidings; and bronze -tints, and beetle-tints of black and green. - -"Chéchelle, what a _bloucoutoum_ if you should ever let that tray -fall--_aïe yaïe yaïe!_" Here is a whole shop of crockeries and -porcelains;--plates, dishes, cups,--earthen-ware _canaris_ and -_dobannes_; and gift-mugs and cups bearing creole girls' names,--all -names that end in _ine_: "Micheline, Honorine, Prospérine" [you will -never sell that, Chéchelle: there is not a Prospérine this side of St. -Pierre], "Azaline, Leontine, Zéphyrine, Albertine, Chrysaline, Florine, -Coralline, Alexandrine."... And knives and forks, and cheap spoons, and -tin coffee-pots, and tin rattles for babies, and tin flutes for horrid -little boys,--and pencils and note-paper and envelopes!... - -... "Oh, Rina, what superb oranges!--fully twelve inches round!... -and these, which look something like our mandarins, what do -you call them? Zorange-macaque!" (monkey-oranges). And here are -avocados--beauties!--guavas of three different kinds,--tropical cherries -(which have four seeds instead of one),--tropical raspberries, whereof -the entire eatable portion comes off in one elastic piece, lined with -something like white silk.... Here are fresh nutmegs: the thick green -case splits in equal halves at a touch; and see the beautiful heart -within,--deep dark glossy red, all wrapped in a bright net-work of flat -blood-colored fibre, spun over it like branching veins.... This big -heavy red-and-yellow thing is a _pomme-cythère_: the smooth cuticle, -bitter as gall, covers a sweet juicy pulp, interwoven with something -that seems like cotton thread.... Here is a _pomme-cannelle_: inside its -scaly covering is the most delicious yellow custard conceivable with -little black seeds floating in it. This larger _corossol_ has almost as -delicate an interior, only the custard is white instead of yellow.... -Here are _christophines_,--great pear-shaped things, white and green, -according to kind, with a peel prickly and knobby as the skin of a homed -toad; but they stew exquisitely. And _mélongènes_, or egg-plants; and -palmiste-pith, and _chadèques_, and _pommes-d'Haïti_,--and roots that -at first sight look all alike, but they are not: there are _camanioc_, -and couscous, and _choux-caraïbes_, and _zignames_, and various kinds -of patates among them. Old Théréza's magic will transform these -shapeless muddy things, before evening, into pyramids of smoking -gold,--into odorous porridges that will look like messes of molten amber -and liquid pearl;--for Rina makes a good sale. - -Then Chéchelle manages to dispose of a tin coffee-pot and a big -canari.... And Maiyotte makes the best sale of all; for the sight of a -funny _biscuit_ doll has made Ah-Manmzell cry and smile so at the same -time that I should feel unhappy for the rest of my life if I did not buy -it for her. I know I ought to get some change out of that six -francs;--and Maiyotte, who is black but comely as the tents of Kedar, as -the curtains of Solomon, seems to be aware of the fact. - -Oh, Maiyotte, how plaintive that pretty sphinx face of yours, now turned -in profile;--as if you knew you looked beautiful thus,--with the great -gold circlets of your ears glittering and swaying as you bend! And why -are you so long, so long untying that poor little canvas -purse?--fumbling and fingering it?--is it because you want me to think -of the weight of that trait and the sixty kilometres you must walk, and -the heat, and dust, and all the disappointments? Ah, you are cunning, -Maiyotte! No, I do not want the change! - - - - -XI - - -... Travelling together, the porteuses often walk in silence for hours -at a time;--this is when they feel weary. Sometimes they sing,--most -often when approaching their destination;--and when they chat, it is in -a key so high-pitched that their voices can be heard to a great distance -in this land of echoes and elevations. - -But she who travels alone is rarely silent: she talks to herself or to -inanimate things;--you may hear her talking to the trees, to the -flowers,--talking to the high clouds and the far peaks of changing -color,--talking to the setting sun! - -Over the miles of the morning she sees, perchance, the mighty Piton -Gélé, a cone of amethyst in the light; and she talks to it: "_Ou -jojoll, oui!--moin ni envie monté assou ou, pou main ouè bien, bien!_" -(Thou art pretty, pretty, aye!--I would I might climb thee, to see far, -far off!) - -By a great grove of palms she passes;--so thickly mustered they are that -against the sun their intermingled heads form one unbroken awning of -green. Many rise straight as masts; some bend at beautiful angles, -seeming to intercross their long pale single limbs in a fantastic dance; -others curve like bows: there is one that undulates from foot to crest, -like a monster serpent poised upon its tail. She loves to look at that -one,--_joli pié-bois-là!_--talks to it as she goes by,--bids it -good-day. - -Or, looking back as she ascends, she sees the huge blue dream of the -sea,--the eternal haunter, that ever becomes larger as she mounts the -road; and she talks to it: "_Mi lanmé ka gadé main!_" (There is the -great sea looking at me!) "_Mâché toujou deïé moin, lamnè!_" (Walk -after me, O Sea!) - -Or she views the clouds of Pelée, spreading gray from the invisible -summit, to shadow against the sun; and she fears the rain, and she talks -to it: "_Pas mouillé moin, laplie-à! Quitté moin rivé avant mouillé -moin!_" (Do not wet me, O Rain! Let me get there before thou wettest -me!) - -Sometimes a dog barks at her, menaces her bare limbs; and she talks to -the dog. "_Chien-a, pas mòdé moin, chien--anh! Moin pa fé ou arien, -chien, pou ou mòdé moin!_" (Do not bite me, O Dog! Never did I -anything to thee that thou shouldst bite me, O Dog! Do not bite me, -dear! Do not bite me, _doudoux!_) - -Sometimes she meets a laden sister travelling the opposite way.... -"_Coument ou yé, chè?_" she cries. (How art thou, dear?) And the other -makes answer, "_Toutt douce, chè,--et ou?_" (All sweetly, dear,--and -thou?) And each passes on without pausing: they have no time! - -... It is perhaps the last human voice she will hear for many a mile. -After that only the whisper of the grasses--_graïe-gras, -graïe-gras!_--and the gossip of the canes--_chououa, chououa!_--and the -husky speech of the _pois-Angole, ka babillé conm yon vié -fenme_,--that babbles like an old woman;--and the murmur of the -_filao_-trees, like the murmur of the River of the Washerwomen. - - - - -XII - - -... Sundown approaches: the light has turned a rich yellow;--long black -shapes lie across the curving road, shadows of balisier and palm, -shadows of tamarind and Indian-reed, shadows of ceiba and giant-fern. -And the porteuses are coming down through the lights and darknesses of -the way horn far Grande Anse, to halt a moment in this little village. -They are going to sit down on the road-side here, before the house of -the baker; and there is his great black workman, Jean-Marie, looking for -them from the door-way, waiting to relieve them of their loads.... -Jean-Marie is the strongest man in all the Champ-Flore: see what a -torso,--as he stands there naked to the waist!... His day's work is -done; but he likes to wait for the girls, though he is old now, and has -sons as tall as himself. It is a habit: some say that he had a daughter -once,--a porteuse like those coming, and used to wait for her thus at -that very door-way until one evening that she failed to appear, and -never returned till he carried her home in his arms dead,--striken by a -serpent in some mountain path where there was none to aid.... The roads -were not as good then as now. - -... Here they come, the girls--yellow, red, black. See the flash of the -yellow feet where they touch the light! And what impossible tint the red -limbs take in the changing glow!... Finotte, Pauline, Médelle,--all -together, as usual,--with Ti-Clé trotting behind, very tired.... Never -mind, Ti-Clé!--you will outwalk your cousins when you are a few years -older,--pretty Ti-Clé.... Here come Cyrillia and Zabette, and Féfé -and Dodotte and Fevriette. And behind them are coming the two -_chabines_,--golden girls: the twin-sisters who sell silks and threads -and foulards; always together, always wearing robes and kerchiefs of -similar color,--so that you can never tell which is Lorrainie and which -Édoualise. - -And all smile to see Jean-Marie waiting for them, and to hear his deep -kind voice calling, "_Coument ou yé chè? coument ou kallé?_"... (How -art thou, dear?--how goes it with thee?) - -And they mostly make answer, "_Toutte douce, chè,--et ou?_" (All -sweetly, dear,--and thou?) But some, overweary, cry to him, "_Ah! -déchâgê moin vite, chè! moin lasse, lasse!_" (Unload me quickly, -dear; for I am very, very weary.) Then he takes off their burdens, and -fetches bread for them, and says foolish little things to make them -laugh. And they are pleased, and laugh, just like children, as they sit -right down on the road there to munch their dry bread. - - -... So often have I watched that scene!... Let me but close my eyes one -moment, and it will come back to me,--through all the thousand -miles,--over the graves of the days.... - -Again I see the mountain road in the yellow glow, banded with umbrages -of palm. Again I watch the light feet coming,--now in shadow, now in -sun,--soundlessly as falling leaves. Still I can hear the voices crying, -"_Ah! déchâgê moin vite, chè!--moin lasse!_"--and see the mighty -arms outreach to take the burdens away. - - -[Illustration: LES PORTEUSES -"_Again I see the mountain road in the yellow glow. -... Again I watch the light feet coming,--now in -shadow, now in sun,--soundless as falling leaves._"] - - -... Only, there is a change,--I know not what!... All vapory the road -is, and the fronds, and the comely coming of feet of the bearers, and -even this light of sunset,--sunset that is ever larger and nearer to us -than dawn, even as death than birth. And the weird way appeareth a way -whose dust is the dust of generations;--and the Shape that waits is -never Jean-Marie, but one darker and stronger;--and these are surely -voices of tired souls who cry to Thee, thou dear black Giver of the -perpetual rest, "_Ah! déchâgé moin vite, chè!--moin lasse!_" - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LA GRANDE ANSE - - -I - - -While, at the village of Morne Rouge, I was frequently impressed by the -singular beauty of young girls from the north-east coast--all porteuses, -who passed almost daily, on their way from Grande Anse to St. Pierre and -back again,--a total trip of thirty-five miles.... I knew they were from -Grande Anse, because the village baker, at whose shop they were wont to -make brief halts, told me a good deal about them: he knew each one by -name. Whenever a remarkably attractive girl appeared, and I would -inquire whence she came, the invariable reply (generally preceded by -that peculiarly intoned French "Ah!" signifying, "Why, you certainly -ought to know!") was "Grande Anse."... _Ah! c'est de Grande Anse, ça!_ -And if any commonplace, uninteresting type showed itself, it would be -signalled as from somewhere else--Gros-Morne, Capote, Marigot, -perhaps,--but never from Grande Anse. The Grande Anse girls were -distinguishable by their clear yellow or brown skins, lithe light -figures, and a particular grace in their way of dressing. Their short -robes were always of bright and pleasing colors, perfectly contrasting -with the ripe fruit-tint of nude limbs and faces: I could discern a -partiality for white stuffs with apricot-yellow stripes, for plaidings -of blue and violet, and various patterns of pink and mauve. They had a -graceful way of walking under their trays, with hands clasped behind -their heads, and arms uplifted in the manner of caryatides. An artist -would have been wild with delight for the chance to sketch some of -them.... On the whole, they conveyed the impression that they belonged -to a particular race, very different from that of the chief city or its -environs. - -"Are they all banana-colored at Grande Anse?" I asked,--"and all as -pretty as these?" - -"I was never at Grande Anse," the little baker answered, "although I -have been forty years in Martinique; but I know there is a fine class of -young girls there: _il y a une belle jeunesse là, mon cher!_" - -Then I wondered why the youth of Grande Anse should be any finer than -the youth of other places; and it seemed to me that the baker's own -statement of his never having been there might possibly furnish a clew. -... Out of the thirty-five thousand inhabitants of St. Pierre and its -suburbs, there are at least twenty thousand who never have been there, -and most probably never will be. Few dwellers of the west coast visit -the east coast: in fact, except among the white creoles, who represent -but a small percentage of the total population, there are few persons to -be met with who are familiar with all parts of their native island. It -is so mountainous, and travelling is so wearisome, that populations may -live and die in adjacent valleys without climbing the intervening ranges -to look at one another. Grande Anse is only about twenty miles from the -principal city; but it requires some considerable inducement to make the -journey on horseback; and only the professional carrier-girls, -plantation messengers, and colored people of peculiarly tough -constitution attempt it on foot. Except for the transportation of sugar -and rum, there is practically no communication by sea between the west -and the north-east coast--the sea is too dangerous--and thus the -populations on either side of the island are more or less isolated from -each other, besides being further subdivided and segregated by the -lesser mountain chains crossing their respective territories.... In view -of all these things I wondered whether a community so secluded might not -assume special characteristics within two hundred years--might not -develop into a population of some yellow, red, or brown type, according -to the predominant element of the original race-crossing. - - - - -II - - -I had long been anxious to see the city of the porteuses, when the -opportunity afforded itself to make the trip with a friend obliged to go -thither on some important business;--I do not think I should have ever -felt resigned to undertake it alone. With a level road the distance -might be covered very quickly, but over mountains the journey is slow -and wearisome in the perpetual tropic heat. Whether made on horseback or -in a carriage, it takes between four and five hours to go from St. -Pierre to Grande Anse, and it requires a longer time to return, as the -road is then nearly all uphill. The young porteuse travels almost as -rapidly; and the barefooted black postman, who carries the mails in a -square box at the end of a pole, is timed on leaving Morne Rouge at 4 -A.M. to reach Ajoupa-Bouillon a little after six, and leaving -Ajoupa-Bouillon at half-past six to reach Grande Anse at half-past -eight, including many stoppages and delays on the way. - -Going to Grande Anse from the chief city, one can either hire a horse or -carriage at St. Pierre, or ascend to Morne Rouge by the public -conveyance, and there procure a vehicle or animal, which latter is the -cheaper and easier plan. About a mile beyond Morne Rouge, where the old -Calebasse road enters the public highway, you reach the highest point of -the journey,--the top of the enormous ridge dividing the north-east from -the western coast, and cutting off the trade-winds from sultry St. -Pierre. By climbing the little hill, with a tall stone cross on its -summit, overlooking the Champ-Flore just here, you can perceive the sea -on both sides of the bland at once--_lapis lazuli_ blue. From this -elevation the road descends by a hundred windings and lessening -undulations to the eastern shore. It sinks between monies wooded to -their summits,--bridges a host of torrents and ravines,--passes gorges -from whence colossal trees tower far overhead, through heavy streaming -of lianas, to mingle their green crowns in magnificent gloom. Now and -then you hear a low long sweet sound like the deepest tone of a silver -flute,--a bird-call, the cry of the _siffleur-de-montagne_; then all is -stillness. You are not like'y to see a white face again for hours, but -at intervals a porteuse passes, walking very swiftly, or a field-hand -heavily laden; and these salute you either by speech or a lifting of the -hand to the head.... And it b very pleasant to hear the greetings -and to see the smiles of those who thus pass,--the fine brown girls -bearing trays, the dark laborers bowed under great burdens of -bamboo-grass,--_Bonjou', Missié!_ Then you should reply, if the speaker -be a woman and pretty, "Good-day, dear" (_bonjou', chè_), or, -"Good-day, my daughter" (_mafi_) even if she be old; while if the -passer-by be a man, your proper reply is, "Good-day, my son" -(_monfi_).... They are less often uttered now than in other years, these -kindly greetings, but they still form part of the good and true creole -manners. - -The feathery beauty of the tree-ferns shadowing each brook, the grace of -bamboo and arborescent grasses, seem to decrease as the road -descends,--but the palms grow taller. Often the way skirts a precipice -dominating some marvellous valley prospect; again it is walled in by -high green banks or shrubby slopes which cut off the view; and always it -serpentines so that you cannot see more than a few hundred feet of the -white track before you. About the fifteenth kilometre a glorious -landscape opens to the right, reaching to the Atlantic;--the road still -winds very high; forests are billowing hundreds of yards below it, and -rising miles away up the slopes of mornes, beyond which, here and there, -loom strange shapes of mountain,--shading off from misty green to violet -and faintest gray. And through one grand opening in this multicolored -surging of hills and peaks you perceive the gold-yellow of cane-fields -touching the sky-colored sea. Grande Anse lies somewhere in that -direction.... At the eighteenth kilometre you pass a cluster of little -country cottages, a church, and one or two large buildings framed in -shade-trees--the hamlet of Ajoupa-Bouillon. Yet a little farther, and -you find you have left all the woods behind you. But the road continues -its bewildering curves around and between low monies covered with cane -or cocoa plants: it dips down very low, rises again, dips once -more;--and you perceive the soil is changing color; it is taking a red -tint like that of the land of the American cotton-belt. Then you pass -the Rivière Falaise (marked _Filasse_ upon old maps),--with its shallow -crystal torrent flowing through a very deep and rocky channel,--and the -Capote and other streams; and over the yellow rim of cane-hills the long -blue bar of the sea appears, edged landward with a dazzling fringe of -foam. The heights you have passed are no longer verdant, but purplish or -gray,--with Pelée's cloud-wrapped enormity overtopping all. A very -strong warm wind is blowing upon you--the trade-wind, always driving the -clouds west: this is the sunny side of Martinique, where gray days and -heavy rains are less frequent. Once or twice more the sea disappears and -reappears, always over canes; and then, after passing a bridge and -turning a last curve, the road suddenly drops down to the shore and into -the burgh of Grande Anse. - - - - -III - - -Leaving Morne Rouge at about eight in the morning, my friend and I -reached Grande Anse at half-past eleven. Everything had been arranged to -make us comfortable. I was delighted with the airy comer room, -commanding at once a view of the main street and of the sea--a very high -room, all open to the trade-winds--which had been prepared to receive -me. But after a long carriage ride in the heat of a tropical June day, -one always feels the necessity of a little physical exercise. I lingered -only a minute or two in the house, and went out to look at the little -town and its surroundings. - -As seen from the high-road, the burgh of Grande Anse makes a long patch -of darkness between the green of the coast and the azure of the water: -it is almost wholly black and gray--suited to inspire an etching. High -slopes of cane and meadow rise behind it and on either side, undulating -up and away to purple and gray tips of mountain ranges. North and south, -to left and right, the land reaches out in two high promontories, mostly -green, and about a mile apart--the Pointe du Rochet and the Pointe de -Séguinau, or Croche-Mort, which latter name preserves the legend of an -insurgent slave, a man of color, shot dead upon the cliff. These -promontories form the semicircular bay of Grande Anse. All this Grande -Anse, or "Great Creek," valley is an immense basin of basalt; and narrow -as it is, no less than five streams water it, including the Rivière de -la Grande Anse. - -There are only three short streets in the town. The principal, or Grande -Rue, is simply a continuation of the national road; there is a narrower -one below, which used to be called the Rue de la Paille, because the -cottages lining it were formerly all thatched with cane straw; and there -is one above it, edging the cane-fields that billow away to the meeting -of morne and sky. There is nothing of architectural interest, and all is -sombre,--walls and roofs and pavements. But after you pass through the -city and follow the southern route that ascends the Séguinau -promontory, you can obtain some lovely landscape views--a grand surging -of rounded mornes, with farther violet peaks, truncated or homed, -pushing up their heads in the horizon above the highest flutterings of -cane; and looking back above the town, you may see Pelée all -unclouded,--not as you see it from the other coast, but an enormous -ghostly silhouette, with steep sides and almost square summit, so pale as -to seem transparent. Then if you cross the promontory southward, the -same road will lead you into another very beautiful valley, watered by a -broad rocky torrent,--the Valley of the Rivière du Lorrain. This clear -stream rushes to the sea through a lofty opening in the hills; and -looking westward between them, you will be charmed by the exquisite -vista of green shapes piling and pushing up one behind another to reach -a high blue ridge which forms the background--a vision of tooth-shaped -and fantastical mountains,--part of the great central chain running -south and north through nearly the whole island. It is over those blue -summits that the wonderful road called _La Trace_ winds between primeval -forest walls. - -But the more you become familiar with the face of the little town -itself, the more you are impressed by the strange swarthy tone it -preserves in all this splendid expanse of radiant tinting. There are -only two points of visible color in it,--the church and hospital, built -of stone, which have been painted yellow: as a mass in the landscape, -lying between the dead-gold of the cane-clad hills and the delicious -azure of the sea, it remains almost black under the prodigious blaze of -light. The foundations of volcanic rock, three or four feet high, on -which the frames of the wooden dwellings rest, are black; and the -sea-wind appears to have the power of blackening all timber-work here -through any coat of paint. Roofs and façades look as if they had been -long exposed to coal-smoke, although probably no one in Grande Anse ever -saw coal; and the pavements of pebbles and cement are of a deep -ash-color, full of micaceous scintillation, and so hard as to feel -disagreeable even to feet protected by good thick shoes. By-and-by you -notice walls of black stone, bridges of black stone, and perceive that -black forms an element of all the landscape about you. On the roads -leading from the town you note from time to time masses of jagged rock -or great bowlders protruding through the green of the slopes, and dark -as ink. These black surfaces also sparkle. The beds of all the -neighboring rivers are filled with dark gray stones; and many of these, -broken by those violent floods which dash rocks together,--deluging the -valleys, and strewing the soil of the bottom-lands (_fonds_) with dead -serpents,--display black cores. Bare crags projecting from the green -cliffs here and there are soot-colored, and the outlying rocks of the -coast offer a similar aspect. And the sand of the beach is funereally -black--looks almost like powdered charcoal; and as you walk over it, -sinking three or four inches every step, you are amazed by the multitude -and brilliancy of minute flashes in it, like a subtle silver -effervescence. - -This extraordinary sand contains ninety per cent, of natural steel, and -efforts have been made to utilize it industrially. Some years ago a -company was formed, and a machine invented to separate the metal from -the pure sand,--an immense revolving magnet, which, being set in motion -under a sand shower, caught the ore upon it. When the covering thus -formed by the adhesion of the steel became of a certain thickness, the -simple interruption of an electric current precipitated the metal into -appropriate receptacles. Fine bars were made from this volcanic steel, -and excellent cutting tools manufactured from it: French metallurgists -pronounced the product of peculiar excellence, and nevertheless the -project of the company was abandoned. Political disorganization -consequent upon the establishment of universal suffrage frightened -capitalists who might have aided the undertaking under a better -condition of affairs; and the lack of large means, coupled with the cost -of freight to remote markets, ultimately baffled this creditable attempt -to found a native industry. - -Sometimes after great storms bright brown sand is flung up from the -sea-depths; but the heavy black sand always reappears again to make the -universal color of the beach. - - - - -IV - - -Behind the roomy wooden house in which I occupied an apartment there was -a small garden-plot surrounded with a hedge strengthened by bamboo -fencing, and radiant with flowers of the _loseille-bois_--the creole -name for a sort of begonia, whose closed bud exactly resembles a pink -and white dainty bivalve shell, and whose open blossom imitates the form -of a butterfly. Here and there, on the grass, were nets drying, and -_nasses_--curious fish-traps made of split bamboos interwoven and held -in place with _mibi_ stalks (the mibi is a liana heavy and tough as -copper wire); and immediately behind the garden hedge appeared the white -flashing of the surf. The most vivid recollection connected with my trip -to Grande Anse is that of the first time that I went to the end of that -garden, opened the little bamboo gate, and found myself overlooking the -beach--an immense breadth of soot-black sand, with pale green patches -and stripings here and there upon it--refuse of cane thatch, decomposing -rubbish spread out by old tides. The one solitary boat owned in the -community lay there before me, high and dry. It was the hot period of -the afternoon; the town slept; there was no living creature in sight; -and the booming of the surf drowned all other sounds; the scent of the -warm strong sea-wind annihilated all other odors. Then, very suddenly, -there came to me a sensation absolutely weird, while watching the -strange wild sea roaring over its beach of black sand,--the sensation of -seeing something unreal, looking at something that had no more tangible -existence than a memory! Whether suggested by the first white vision of -the surf over the bamboo hedge,--or by those old green tide-lines on the -desolation of the black beach,--or by some tone of the speaking of the -sea,--or something indefinable in the living touch of the wind,--or by -all of these, I cannot say;--but slowly there became defined within me -the thought of having beheld just such a coast very long ago, I could -not tell where,--in those child-years of which the recollections -gradually become indistinguishable from dreams. - - -Soon as darkness comes upon Grande Anse the face of the clock in the -church-tower is always lighted: you see it suddenly burst into yellow -glow above the roofs and the cocoa-palms,--just like a pharos. In my -room I could not keep the candle lighted because of the sea-wind; but it -never occurred to me to close the shutters of the great broad -windows,--sashless, of course, like all the glassless windows of -Martinique;--the breeze was too delicious. It seemed full of something -vitalizing that made one's blood warmer, and rendered one full of -contentment--full of eagerness to believe life all sweetness. Likewise, -I found it soporific--this pure, dry, warm wind. And I thought there -could be no greater delight in existence than to lie down at night, with -all the windows open,--and the Cross of the South visible from my -pillow,--and the sea-wind pouring over the bed,--and the tumultuous -whispering and muttering of the surf in one's ears,--dream of that -strange sapphire sea white-bursting over its beach of black sand. - - - - -V - - -Considering that Grande Anse lies almost opposite to St. Pierre, at a -distance of less than twenty miles even by the complicated windings of -the national road, the differences existing in the natural conditions of -both places are remarkable enough. Nobody in St. Pierre sees the sun -rise, because the mountains immediately behind the city continue to -shadow its roofs long after the eastern coast is deluged with light and -heat. At Grande Anse, on the other hand, those tremendous sunsets which -delight west coast dwellers are not visible at all; and during the -briefer West Indian days Grande Anse is all wrapped in darkness as early -as half-past four,--or nearly an hour before the orange light has ceased -to flare up the streets of St. Pierre from the sea;--since the great -mountain range topped by Pelée cuts off all the slanting light from the -east valleys. And early as folks rise in St. Pierre, they rise still -earlier at Grande Anse--before the sun emerges from the rim of the -Atlantic: about half-past four, doors are being opened and coffee is -ready. At St. Pierre one can enjoy a sea bath till seven or half-past -seven o'clock, even during the time of the sun's earliest rising, -because the shadow of the mornes still reaches out upon the bay;--but -bathers leave the black beach of Grande Anse by six o'clock; for once -the sun's face is up, the light, levelled straight at the eyes, becomes -blinding. Again, at St. Pierre it rains almost every twenty-four hours -for a brief while, during at least the greater part of the year; at -Grande Anse it rains more moderately and less often. The atmosphere at -St. Pierre is always more or less impregnated with vapor, and usually an -enervating heat prevails, which makes exertion unpleasant; at Grande -Anse the warm wind keeps the skin comparatively dry, in spite of -considerable exercise. It is quite rare to see a heavy surf at St. -Pierre, but it is much rarer not to see it at Grande Anse.... A curious -fact concerning custom is that few white creoles care to bathe in front -of the town, notwithstanding the superb beach and magnificent surf, both -so inviting to one accustomed to the deep still water and rough pebbly -shore of St. Pierre. The creoles really prefer their rivers as -bathing-places; and when willing to take a sea bath, they will walk up -and down hill for kilometres in order to reach some river mouth, so as -to wash off in the fresh-water afterwards. They say that the effect of -sea-salt upon the skin gives _boutons-chauds_ (what we call "prickly -heat"). Friends took me all the way to the mouth of the Lorrain one -morning that I might have the experience of such a double bath; but -after leaving the tepid sea, I must confess the plunge into the river -was something terrible--an icy shock which cured me of all further -desire for river baths. My willingness to let the sea-water dry upon me -was regarded as an eccentricity. - - - - -VI - - -It may be said that on all this coast the ocean, perpetually moved by -the blowing of the trade-winds, never rests--never hushes its roar. Even -in the streets of Grande Anse, one must in breezy weather lift one's -voice above the natural pitch to be heard; and then the breakers come in -lines more than a mile long, between the Pointe du Rochet and the Pointe -de Séguinau,--every unfurling a thunder-clap. There is no travelling by -sea. All large vessels keep well away from the dangerous coast. There is -scarcely any fishing; and although the sea is thick with fish, fresh -fish at Grande Anse is a rare luxury. Communication with St. Pierre is -chiefly by way of the national road, winding over mountain ridges two -thousand feet high; and the larger portion of merchandise is transported -from the chief city on the heads of young women. The steepness of the -route soon kills draught-horses and ruins the toughest mules. At one -time the managers of a large estate at Grande Anse attempted the -experiment of sending their sugar to St. Pierre in iron carts, drawn by -five mules; but the animals could not endure the work. Cocoa can be -carried to St. Pierre by the porteuses, but sugar and rum must go by -sea, or not at all; and the risks and difficulties of shipping these -seriously affect the prosperity of all the north and north-east coast. -Planters have actually been ruined by inability to send their products -to market during a protracted spell of rough weather. A railroad has -been proposed and planned: in a more prosperous era it might be -constructed, with the result of greatly developing all the Atlantic side -of the island, and converting obscure villages into thriving towns. - -Sugar is very difficult to ship; rum and tafia can be handled with less -risk. It is nothing less than exciting to watch a shipment of tafia from -Grande Anse to St. Pierre. - -A little vessel approaches the coast with extreme caution, and anchors -in the bay some hundred yards beyond the breakers. She is what they call -a _pirogue_ here, but not at all what is called a pirogue in the United -States: she has a long narrow hull, two masts, no deck; she has usually -a crew of five, and can carry thirty barrels of tafia. One of the -pirogue men puts a great shell to his lips and sounds a call, very -mellow and deep, that can be heard over the roar of the waves far up -among the hills. The shell is one of those great spiral shells, weighing -seven or eight pounds--rolled like a scroll, fluted and scalloped about -the edges, and pink-pearled inside,--such as are sold in America for -mantel-piece ornaments,--the shell of a _lambi._ Here you can often see -the lambi crawling about with its nacreous house upon its back: an -enormous sea-snail with a yellowish back and rose-colored belly, with -big horns and eyes in the tip of each horn--very pretty eyes, having a -golden iris. This creature is a common article of food; but its thick -white flesh is almost compact as cartilage, and must be pounded before -being cooked.[5] - -At the sound of the blowing of the lambi-shell, wagons descend to the -beach, accompanied by young colored men running beside the mules. Each -wagon discharges a certain number of barrels of tafia, and -simultaneously the young men strip. They are slight, well built, and -generally well muscled. Each man takes a barrel of tafia, pushes it -before him into the surf, and then begins to swim to the -pirogue,--impelling the barrel before him. I have never seen a swimmer -attempt to convey more than one barrel at a time; but I am told there -are experts who manage as many as three barrels together,--pushing them -forward in line, with the head of one against the bottom of the next. It -really requires much dexterity and practice to handle even one barrel or -cask. As the swimmer advances he keeps close as possible to his -charge,--so as to be able to push it forward with all his force against -each breaker in succession,--making it dive through. If it once glide -well out of his reach while he is in the breakers, it becomes an enemy, -and he must take care to keep out of its way,--for if a wave throws it -at him, or rolls it over him, he may be seriously injured; but the -expert seldom abandons a barrel. Under the most favorable conditions, -man and barrel will both disappear a score of times before the clear -swells are reached, after which the rest of the journey is not -difficult. Men lower ropes from the pirogue, the swimmer passes them -under his barrel, and it is hoisted aboard. - -... Wonderful surf-swimmers these men are;--they will go far out for -mere sport in the roughest kind of a sea, when the waves, abnormally -swollen by the peculiar conformation of the bay, come rolling in thirty -and forty feet high. Sometimes, with the swift impulse of ascending a -swell, the swimmer seems suspended in air as it passes beneath him, -before he plunges into the trough beyond. The best swimmer is a young -capre who cannot weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds. Few of the -Grande Anse men are heavily built; they do not compare for stature and -thew with those longshoremen at St. Pierre who can be seen any busy -afternoon on the landing, lifting heavy barrels at almost the full reach -of their swarthy arms. - -... There is but one boat owned in the whole parish of Grande Anse,--a -fact due to the continual roughness of the sea. It has a little mast and -sail, and can hold only three men. When the water is somewhat less angry -than usual, a colored crew take it out for a fishing expedition. There -is always much interest in this event; a crowd gathers on the beach; and -the professional swimmers help to bring the little craft beyond the -breakers. When the boat returns after a disappearance of several hours, -everybody runs down from the village to meet it. Young colored women -twist their robes up about their hips, and wade out to welcome it: there -is a display of limbs of all colors on such occasions, which is not -without grace, that untaught grace which tempts an artistic pencil. -Every bonne and every house-keeper struggles for the first chance to buy -the fish;--young girls and children dance in the water for delight, all -screaming, "_Rhalé bois-canot!_"... Then as the boat is pulled through -the surf and hauled up on the sand, the pushing and screaming and crying -become irritating and deafening; the fishermen lose patience and say -terrible things. But nobody heeds them in the general clamoring and -haggling and furious bidding for the _pouèsson-ououge_, the _dorades_, -the _volants_ (beautiful purple-backed flying-fish with silver bellies, -and fins all transparent, like the wings of dragon-flies). There is -great bargaining even for a young shark,--which makes very nice eating -cooked after the creole fashion. So seldom can the fishermen venture out -that each trip makes a memorable event for the village. - -The St. Pierre fishermen very seldom approach the bay, but they do much -fishing a few miles beyond it, almost in front of the Pointe du Rochet -and the Roche à Bourgaut. There the best flying-fish are caught,--and -besides edible creatures, many queer things are often brought up by the -nets: monstrosities such as the _coffre_-fish, shaped almost like a box, -of which the lid is represented by an extraordinary conformation of the -jaws;--and the _barrique-de-vin_ ("wine cask"), with round boneless -body, secreting in a curious vesicle a liquor precisely resembling wine -lees;--and the "needle-fish" (_aiguille de mer_), less thick than a -Faber lead-pencil, but more than twice as long;--and huge cuttle-fish -and prodigious eels. One conger secured off this coast measured over -twenty feet in length, and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds--a -veritable sea-serpent.... But even the fresh-water inhabitants of Grande -Anse are amazing. I have seen crawfish by actual measurement fifty -centimetres long, but these were not considered remarkable. Many are -said to much exceed two feet from the tail to the tip of the claws and -horns. They are of an iron-black color, and have formidable pincers with -serrated edges and tip-points inwardly converging, which cannot crush -like the weapons of a lobster, but which will cut the flesh and make a -small ugly wound. At first sight one not familiar with the crawfish of -these regions can hardly believe he is not viewing some variety of -gigantic lobster instead of the common fresh-water crawfish of the east -coast. When the head, tail, legs, and cuirass have all been removed, -after boiling, the curved trunk has still the size and weight of a large -pork sausage. - -These creatures are trapped by lantern-light. Pieces of manioc root tied -fast to large bowlders sunk in the river are the only bait;--the -crawfish will flock to eat it upon any dark night, and then they are -caught with scoop-nets and dropped into covered baskets. - - -[Footnote 5: _Y batt li conm lambi_--"he beat him like a lambi"--is an -expression that may often be heard in a creole court from witnesses -testifying in a case of assault and battery. One must have seen a lambi -pounded to appreciate the terrible picturesqueness of the phrase.] - - - - -VII - - -One whose ideas of the people of Grande Anse had been formed only by -observing the young porteuses of the region on their way to the other -side of the island, might expect on reaching this little town to find -its population yellow as that of a Chinese city. But the dominant hue is -much darker, although the mixed element is everywhere visible; and I was -at first surprised by the scarcity of those clear bright skins I -supposed to be so numerous. Some pretty children--notably a pair of -twin-sisters, and perhaps a dozen school-girls from eight to ten years -of age--displayed the same characteristics I have noted in the adult -porteuses of Grande Anse; but within the town itself this brighter -element is in the minority. The predominating race element of the whole -commune is certainly colored (Grande Anse is even memorable because of -the revolt of its _hommes de couleur_ some fifty years ago);--but the -colored population is not concentrated in the town; it belongs rather to -the valleys and the heights surrounding the _chef-lieu._ Most of the -porteuses are country girls, and I found that even those living in the -village are seldom visible on the streets except when departing upon a -trip or returning from one. An artist wishing to study the type might, -however, pass a day at the bridge of the Rivière Falaise to advantage, -as all the carrier-girls pass it at certain hours of the morning and -evening. - -But the best possible occasion on which to observe what my friend the -baker called _la belle jeunesse_, is a confirmation day,--when the -bishop drives to Grande Anse over the mountains, and all the population -turns out in holiday garb, and the bells are tapped like tam-tams, and -triumphal arches--most awry to behold!--span the road-way, bearing in -clumsiest lettering the welcome. _Vive Monseigneur._ On that event, the -long procession of young girls to be confirmed--all in white robes, -white veils, and white satin slippers--is a numerical surprise. It is a -moral surprise also,--to the stranger at least; for it reveals the -struggle of a poverty extraordinary with the self-imposed obligations of -a costly ceremonialism. - - -[Illustration: CATHEDRAL, FORT-DE-FRANCE -_Services begin at daybreak. All day long the ringing -bells mark the joys and sorrows of creole and white -alike._] - - -No white children ever appear in these processions: there are not half a -dozen white families in the whole urban population of about seven -thousand souls; and those send their sons and daughters to St. Pierre or -Morne Rouge for their religious training and education. But many of the -colored children look very charming in their costume of -confirmation;--you could not easily recognize one of them as the same -little bonne who brings your morning cup of coffee, or another as the -daughter of a plantation _commandeur_ (overseer's assistant),--a brown -slip of a girl who will probably never wear shoes again. And many of -those white shoes and white veils have been obtained only by the hardest -physical labor and self-denial of poor parents and relatives: fathers, -brothers, and mothers working with cutlass and hoe in the snake-swarming -cane-fields;--sisters walking bare-footed every day to St. Pierre and -back to earn a few francs a month. - -... While watching such a procession it seemed to me that I could -discern in the features and figures of the young confirmants something -of a prevailing type and tint, and I asked an old planter beside me if -he thought my impression correct. - -"Partly," he answered; "there is certainly a tendency towards an -attractive physical type here, but the tendency itself is less stable -than you imagine; it has been changed during the last twenty years -within my own recollection. In different parts of the island particular -types appear and disappear with a generation. There is a sort of -race-fermentation going on, which gives no fixed result of a positive -sort for any great length of time. It is true that certain elements -continue to dominate in certain communes, but the particular -characteristics come and vanish in the most mysterious way. As to color, -I doubt if any correct classification can be made, especially by a -stranger. Your eyes give you general ideas about a red type, a yellow -type, a brown type; but to the more experienced eyes of a creole, -accustomed to live in the country districts, every individual of mixed -race appears to have a particular color of his own. Take, for instance, -the so-called capre type, which furnishes the finest physical examples -of all,--you, a stranger, are at once impressed by the general red tint -of the variety; but you do not notice the differences of that tint in -different persons, which are more difficult to observe than -shade-differences of yellow or brown. Now, to me, every capre or -capresse has an individual color; and I do not believe that in all -Martinique there are two half-breeds--not having had the same father and -mother--in whom the tint is precisely the same." - - - - -VIII - - -I thought Grande Anse the most sleepy place I had ever visited. I -suspect it is one of the sleepiest in the whole world. The wind, which -tans even a creole of St. Pierre to an unnatural brown within -forty-eight hours of his sojourn in the village, has also a peculiarly -somnolent effect. The moment one has nothing particular to do, and -ventures to sit down idly with the breeze in one's face, slumber comes; -and everybody who can spare the time takes a long nap in the afternoon, -and little naps from hour to hour. For all that, the heat of the east -coast is not enervating, like that of St. Pierre; one can take a great -deal of exercise in the sun without feeling much the worse. Hunting -excursions, river fishing parties, surf-bathing, and visits to -neighboring plantations are the only amusements; but these are enough to -make existence very pleasant at Grande Anse. The most interesting of my -own experiences were those of a day passed by invitation at one of the -old colonial estates on the bills near the village. - -It is not easy to describe the charm of a creole interior, whether in -the city or the country. The cool shadowy court, with its wonderful -plants and fountain of sparkling mountain water, or the lawn, with its -ancestral trees,--the delicious welcome of the host, whose fraternal -easy manner immediately makes you feel at home,--the coming of the -children to greet you, each holding up a velvety brown cheek to be -kissed, after the old-time custom,--the romance of the unconventional -chat, over a cool drink, under the palms and the ceibas,--the visible -earnestness of all to please the guest, to inwrap him in a very -atmosphere of quiet happiness,--combine to make a memory which you will -never forget. And maybe you enjoy all this upon some exquisite site, -some volcanic summit, overlooking slopes of a hundred greens,--mountains -far winding in blue and pearly shadowing,--rivers singing seaward behind -curtains of arborescent reeds and bamboos,--and, perhaps. Pelée, in the -horizon, dreaming violet dreams under her foulard of vapors,--and, -encircling all, the still sweep of the ocean's azure bending to the -verge of day. - -... My host showed or explained to me all that he thought might interest -a stranger. He had brought to me a nest of the _carouge_, a bird which -suspends its home, hammock-fashion, under the leaves of the -banana-tree;--showed me a little fer-de-lance, freshly killed by one of -his field hands; and a field lizard (_zanoli tè_ in creole), not green -like the lizards which haunt the roofs of St. Pierre, but of a beautiful -brown bronze, with shifting tints; and eggs of the _zanoli_, little soft -oval things from which the young lizards will perhaps run out alive as -fast as you open the shells; and the _matoutou-falaise_, or spider of -the cliffs, of two varieties, red or almost black when adult, and bluish -silvery tint when young,--less in size than the tarantula, but equally -hairy and venomous; and the _crabe-c'est-ma-faute_ (the -"Through-my-fault crab"), having one very small and one very large claw, -which latter it carries folded up against its body, so as to have -suggested the idea of a penitent striking his bosom, and uttering the -sacramental words of the Catholic confession, "Through my fault, through -my fault, through my most grievous fault."... Indeed I cannot recollect -one-half of the queer birds, queer insects, queer reptiles, and queer -plants to which my attention was called. But speaking of plants, I was -impressed by the profusion of the _zhèbe-moin-misé_--a little -sensitive-plant I had rarely observed on the west coast. On the -hill-sides of Grande Anse it prevails to such an extent as to give -certain slopes its own peculiar greenish-brown color. It has -many-branching leaves, only one inch and a half to two inches long, but -which recall the form of certain common ferns; these lie almost flat -upon the ground. They fold together upward from the central stem at the -least touch, and the plant thus makes itself almost imperceptible;--it -seems to live so, that you fed guilty of murder if you break off a leaf. -It is called _Zhèbe-moin-misé_, or "Plant-did-I-amuse-myself," because -it is supposed to tell naughty little children who play truant, or who -delay much longer than is necessary in delivering a message, whether -they deserve a whipping or not. The guilty child touches the plant, and -asks, "_Ess moin amisé morn?_" (Did I amuse myself?); and if the plant -instantly shuts its leaves up, that means, "Yes, you did!" Of course the -leaves invariably close; but I suspect they invariably tell the truth, -for all colored children, in Grande Anse at least, are much more -inclined to play than work. - -The kind old planter likewise conducted me over the estate. He took me -through the sugar-mill, and showed me, among other more recent -inventions, some machinery devised nearly two centuries ago by the -ingenious and terrible Père Labat, and still quite serviceable, in -spite of all modern improvements in sugar-making;--took me through the -_rhummerie_, or distillery, and made me taste some colorless rum which -had the aroma and something of the taste of the most delicate gin;--and -finally took me into the _cases-à-vent_, or "wind-houses,"--built as -places of refuge during hurricanes. Hurricanes are rare, and more rare -in this century by far than during the previous one; but this part of -the island is particularly exposed to such visitations, and almost every -old plantation used to have one or two cases-à-vent. They were always -built in a hollow, either natural or artificial, below the -land-level,--with walls of rock several feet thick, and very strong -doors, but no windows. My host told me about the experiences of his -family in some case-à-vent during a hurricane which he recollected. It -was found necessary to secure the door within by means of strong ropes; -and the mere task of holding it taxed the strength of a dozen powerful -men: it would bulge in under the pressure of the awful wind,--swelling -like the side of a barrel; and had not its planks been made of a wood -tough as hickory, they would have been blown into splinters. - -I had long desired to examine a plantation drum, and see it played upon -under conditions more favorable than the excitement of a holiday -_caleinda_ in the villages, where the amusement is too often terminated -by a _voum_ (general row) or a _goumage_ (a serious fight);--and when I -mentioned this wish to the planter he at once sent word to his -commandeur, the best drummer in the settlement, to come up to the house -and bring his instrument with him. I was thus enabled to make the -observations necessary, and also to take an instantaneous photograph of -the drummer in the very act of playing. - -The old African dances, the _caleinda_ and the _bélé_ (which latter is -accompanied by chanted improvisation) are danced on Sundays to the sound -of the drum on almost every plantation in the island. The drum, indeed, -is an instrument to which the country-folk are so much attached that -they swear by it,--_Tamboul_ being the oath uttered upon all ordinary -occasions of surprise or vexation. But the instrument is quite as often -called _ka_, because made out of a quarter-barrel, or _quart_,--in the -patois "ka." Both ends of the barrel having been removed, a wet hide, -well wrapped about a couple of hoops, is driven on, and in drying the -stretched skin obtains still further tension. The other end of the ka is -always left open. Across the face of the skin a string is tightly -stretched, to which are attached, at intervals of about an inch apart, -very short thin fragments of bamboo or cut feather stems. These lend a -certain vibration to the tones. - -In the time of Père Labat the negro drums had a somewhat different -form. There were then two kinds of drums--a big tamtam and a little one, -which used to be played together. Both consisted of skins tightly -stretched over one end of a wooden cylinder, or a section of hollow tree -trunk. The larger was from three to four feet long with a diameter of -fifteen to sixteen inches; the smaller, called _baboula_,[6] was of the -same length, but only eight or nine inches in diameter. Père Labat also -speaks, in his West Indian travels, of another musical instrument, very -popular among the Martinique slaves of his time--"a sort of guitar" made -out of a half-calabash or _couï_, covered with some kind of skin. It -had four strings of silk or catgut, and a very long neck. The tradition -of this African instrument is said to survive in the modern "_banza_" -(_banza nèg Guinée_). - -The skilful player (_bel tambouyé_) straddles his ka stripped to the -waist, and plays upon it with the fingertips of both hands -simultaneously,--taking care that the vibrating string occupies a -horizontal position. Occasionally the heel of the naked foot is pressed -lightly or vigorously against the skin, so as to produce changes of -tone. This is called "giving heel" to the drum--_baill y talon._ -Meanwhile a boy keeps striking the drum at the uncovered end with a -stick, so as to produce a dry clattering accompaniment. The sound -of the drum itself, well played, has a wild power that makes and -masters all the excitement of the dance--a complicated double roll, -with a peculiar billowy rising and falling. The creole onomatopes, -_b'lip-b'lib-b'lib-b'lip_, do not fully render the roll;--for each -_b'lip_ or _b'lib_ stands really for a series of sounds too rapidly -filliped out to be imitated by articulate speech. The tapping of a ka -can be heard at surprising distances; and experienced players often play -for hours at a time without exhibiting wearisomeness, or in the least -diminishing the volume of sound produced. - -It seems there are many ways of playing--different measures familiar to -all these colored people, but not easily distinguished by anybody else; -and there are great matches sometimes between celebrated _tambouyé_ The -same _commandè_ whose portrait I took while playing told me that he -once figured in a contest of this kind, his rival being a drummer from -the neighboring burgh of Marigot.... "_Aie, aïe, yaïe! mon chè!--y -fai tambou-à pàlé!_" said the commandè, describing the execution of -his antagonist;--"my dear, he just made that drum talk! I thought I was -going to be beaten for sure; I was trembling all the time--_aïe, -yaïe-yaïe!_ Then he got off that ka. I mounted it; I thought a moment; -then I struck up the 'River-of-the-Lizard,'--_mais, mon chè, yon -larivie-Léza toutt pi!_--such a River-of-the-Lizard, ah! just perfectly -pure! I gave heel to that ka; I worried that ka;--I made it mad;--I made -it crazy;--I made it talk;--I won!" - -During some dances a sort of chant accompanies the music--a long -sonorous cry, uttered at intervals of seven or eight seconds, which -perfectly times a particular measure in the drum roll. It may be the -burden of a song, or a mere improvisation: - - -"_Oh! yoïe-yoïe!" -(Drum roll.) -"Oh! missié-à!" -(Drum roll.) -"Y bel tambouyé!" -(Drum roll.) -"Aie, ya, yaie!" -(Drum roll.) -"Joli tambouyé!" -(Drum roll.) -"Chauffé tambou-à!" -(Drum roll.) -"Géné tambou-à!" -(Drum roll.) -"Crazé tambou-à!_" etc., etc. - - -... The crieur, or chanter, is also the leader of the dance. The -caleinda is danced by men only, all stripped to the waist, and twirling -heavy sticks in a mock fight. Sometimes, however--especially at the -great village gatherings, when the blood becomes overheated by -tafia--the mock fight may become a real one; and then even cutlasses are -brought into play. - -But in the old days, those improvisations which gave one form of dance -its name, _bélé_ (from the French _bel air_), were often remarkable -rhymeless poems, uttered with natural simple emotion, and full of -picturesque imagery. I cite part of one, taken down from the dictation -of a common field-hand near Fort-de-France. I offer a few lines of the -creole first, to indicate the form of the improvisation. There is a -dancing pause at the end of each line during the performance: - - -Toutt fois lanmou vini lacase moin -Pou pàlé moin, moin ka reponne: -"Khé moin deja placé," -Moin ka crié, "Sécou! les voisinages!" -Moin ka crié, "Sécou! la gàde royale!" -Moin ka crié, "Sécou! la gendàmerie! -Lanmou pouend yon poignâ pou poignadé moin!" - - -The best part of the composition, which is quite long, might be -rendered as follows: - - -Each time that Love comes to my cabin -To speak to me of love I make answer, -"My heart is already placed," -I cry out, "Help, neighbors! help!" -I cry out, "Help, _la Garde Royale!_" -I cry out, "Help, help, gendarmes! -Love takes a poniard to stab me; -How can Love have a heart so hard -To thus rob me of my health!" -When the officer of police comes to me -To hear me tell him the truth, -To have him arrest my Love;-- -When I see the Garde Royale -Coming to arrest my sweet heart, -I fall down at the feet of the Garde Royale,-- -I pray for mercy and forgiveness. -"Arrest me instead, but let my dear Love go!" -How, alas! with this tender heart of mine, -Can I bear to see such an arrest made! -No, no! I would rather die! -Dost not remember, when our pillows lay close together, -How we told each to the other all that our hearts thought? -... etc. - - -The stars were all out when I bid my host good-bye;--he sent his black -servant along with me to carry a lantern and keep a sharp watch for -snakes along the mountain road. - - -[Footnote 6: Moreau de Saint-Méry writes, describing the drums of the -negroes of Saint Domingue: "Le plus court de ces tambours est nommé -_Bamboula_, attendu qu'il est formé quelquefois d'un très-gros -bambou."--"Description de la partie française de Saint Domingue," vol. -I., p. 44.] - - - -[Illustration: HOME FROM MARKET, ST. PIERRE -_The notion of speed and scarcity of time has not reached -these dreamy, ease-loving islands._] - - - - -IX - - -... Assuredly the city of St. Pierre never could have seemed more -quaintly beautiful than as I saw it on the evening of my return, while -the shadows were reaching their longest, and sea and sky were turning -lilac. Palm-heads were trembling and masts swaying slowly against an -enormous orange sunset,--yet the beauty of the sight did not touch me! -The deep level and luminous flood of the bay seemed to me for the first -time a dead water;--I found myself wondering whether it could form a -part of that living tide by which I had been dwelling, full of -foam-lightnings and perpetual thunder. I wondered whether the air about -me--heavy and hot and full of faint smells--could ever have been touched -by the vast pure sweet breath of the wind from the sunrising. And I -became conscious of a profound, unreasoning, absurd regret for the -somnolent little black village of that bare east coast,--where there are -no woods, no ships, no sunset,... only the ocean roaring forever over -its beach of black sand. - - -[Illustration] - - - - -UN REVENANT - - -I - - -He who first gave to Martinique its poetical name, _Le Pays des -Revenants_, thought of his wonderful island only as "The Country of -Comers-back," where Native's unspeakable spell bewitches wandering souls -like the caress of a Circe,--never as the Land of Ghosts. Yet either -translation of the name holds equal truth: a land of ghosts it is, this -marvellous Martinique! Almost every plantation has its familiar -spirits,--its phantoms: some may be unknown beyond the particular -district in which fancy first gave them being;--but some belong to -popular song and story,--to the imaginative life of the whole people. -Almost every promontory and peak, every village and valley along the -coast, has its special folk-lore, its particular tradition. The legend -of Thomasseau of Perinnelle, whose body was taken out of the coffin and -carried away by the devil through a certain window of the -plantation-house, which cannot be closed up by human power;--the -Demarche legend of the spectral horseman who rides up the hill on bright -hot days to seek a friend buried more than a hundred years ago;--the -legend of the _Habitation Dillon_, whose proprietor was one night -mysteriously summoned from a banquet to disappear forever;--the legend -of l'Abbé Piot, who cursed the sea with the curse of perpetual -unrest;--the legend of Aimée Derivry of Robert, captured by Barbary -pirates, and sold to become a Sultana-Validé--(she never existed, -though you can find an alleged portrait in M. Sidney Darney's history of -Martinique): these and many similar tales might be told to you even on a -journey from St. Pierre to Fort-de-France, or from Lamentin to La -Trinité, according as a rising of some peak into view, or the sudden -opening of an before the vessel's approach, recalls them to a creole -companion. - -And new legends are even now being made; for in this remote colony, to -which white immigration has long ceased,--a country so mountainous that -people are born and buried in the same valley without ever seeing towns -but a few hours' journey beyond their native hills, and that distinct -racial types are forming within three leagues of each other,--the memory -of an event or of a name which has had influence enough to send one echo -through all the forty-nine miles of peaks and craters is apt to create -legend within a single generation. Nowhere in the world, perhaps, is -popular imagination more oddly naïve and superstitious; nowhere are -facts more readily exaggerated or distorted into unrecognizability; and -the forms of any legend thus originated become furthermore specialized -in each separate locality where it obtains a habitat. On tracing back -such a legend or tradition to its primal source, one feels amazed at the -variety of the metamorphoses which the simplest fact may rapidly assume -in the childish fancy of this people. - -I was first incited to make an effort in this direction by hearing the -remarkable story of "Missié Bon." No legendary expression is more -wide-spread throughout the country than _temps coudvent Missié Bon_ (in -the time of the big wind of Monsieur Bon). Whenever a hurricane -threatens, you will hear colored folks expressing the hope that it may -not be like the _coudvent Missié Bon._ And some years ago, in all the -creole police-courts, old colored witnesses who could not tell their age -would invariably try to give the magistrate some idea of it by referring -to the never-to-be-forgotten _temps coudvent Missié Bon._ - -... "_Temps coudvent Missié Bon, moin té ka tété encò_" (I was a -child at the breast in the time of the big wind of Missié Bon); or -"_Temps coudvent Missié Bon, moin té toutt piti manmaille,--moin ka -souvini y pouend caïe manman moin pòté allé._" (I was a very, very -little child in the time of the big wind of Missié Bon,--but I remember -it blew mamma's cabin away.) The magistrates of those days knew the -exact date of the _coudvent._ - -But all I could learn about Missié Bon among the country-folk was this: -Missié Bon used to be a great slave-owner and a cruel master. He was a -very wicked man. And he treated his slaves so terribly that at last the -Good-God (_Bon-Dié_) one day sent a great wind which blew away Missié -Bon and Missié Bon's house and everybody in it, so that nothing was -ever heard of them again. - - -It was not without considerable research that I succeeded at last in -finding some one able to give me the true facts in the case of Monsieur -Bon. My informant was a charming old gentleman, who represents a New -York company in the city of St. Pierre, and who takes more interest in -the history of his native island than creoles usually do. He laughed at -the legend I had found, but informed me that I could trace it, with -slight variations, through nearly every canton of Martinique. - -"And now," he continued, "I can tell you the real history of 'Missié -Bon,'--for he was an old friend of my grandfather; and my grandfather -related it to me. - -"It may have been in 1809--I can give you the exact date by reference to -some old papers if necessary--Monsieur Bon was Collector of Customs at -St. Pierre: and my grandfather was doing business in the Grande Rue. A -certain captain, whose vessel had been consigned to my grandfather, -invited him and the collector to breakfast in his cabin. My grandfather -was so busy he could not accept the invitation;--but Monsieur Bon went -with the captain on board the bark." - -... "It was a morning like this; the sea was just as blue and the sky as -clear. All of a sudden, while they were at breakfast, the sea began to -break heavily without a wind, and clouds came up, with every sign of a -hurricane. The captain was obliged to sacrifice his anchor; there was no -time to land his guest: he hoisted a little jib and top-gallant, and -made for open water, taking Monsieur Bon with him. Then the hurricane -came; and from that day to this nothing has ever been heard of the bark -nor of the captain nor of Monsieur Bon."[7] - -"But did Monsieur Bon ever do anything to deserve the reputation he has -left among the people?" I asked. - -"Ah! le pauvre vieux corps!... A kind old soul who never uttered a harsh -word to human being;--timid,--good-natured,--old-fashioned even for -those old-fashioned days.... Never had a slave in his life!" - - -[Footnote 7: What is known in the West Indies as a hurricane is happily -rare; it blows with the force of a cyclone, but not always circularly; -it may come from one direction, and strengthen gradually for days until -its highest velocity and destructive force are reached. One in the time -of Père Labat blew away the walls of a fort;--that of 1780 destroyed -the lives of twenty-two thousand people in four islands: Martinique, -Saint Lucia, St. Vincent, and Barbadoes. - -Before the approach of such a visitation animals manifest the same signs -of terror they display prior to an earthquake. Cattle assemble together, -stamp, and roar; sea-birds fly to the interior; fowl seek the nearest -crevice they can hide in. Then, while the sky is yet dear, begins the -breaking of the sea; then darkness comes, and after it the wind.] - - - - -II - - -The legend of "Missié Bon" had prepared me to hear without surprise the -details of a still more singular tradition,--that of Father Labat.... I -was returning from a mountain ramble with my guide, by way of the -Ajoupa-Bouillon road;--the sun had gone down; there remained only a -blood-red glow in the west, against which the silhouettes of the hills -took a velvety blackness indescribably soft; and stars were beginning to -twinkle out everywhere through the violet. Suddenly I noticed on the -flank of a neighboring morne--which I remembered by day as an apparently -uninhabitable wilderness of bamboos, tree-ferns, and balisiers--a -swiftly moving point of yellow light. My guide had observed it -simultaneously;--he crossed himself, and exclaimed: - -"_Moinka ka couè c'est fanal Pè Lobatt!_" (I believe it is the lantern -of Père Labat.) - -"Does he live there?" I innocently inquired. - -"Live there?--why he has been dead hundreds of years!... _Ouill!_ you -never heard of Pè Labatt?"... - -"Not the same who wrote a book about Martinique?" - -"Yes,--himself.... They say he comes back at night. Ask mother about -him;--she knows."... - -... I questioned old Théréza as soon as we reached home; and she told -me all she knew about "Pè Labatt." I found that the father had left a -reputation far more wide-spread than the recollection of "Missié -Bon,"--that his memory had created, in fact, the most impressive legend -in all Martinique folk-lore. - -"Whether you really saw Pè Labatt's lantern," said old Théréza, "I do -not know;--there are a great many queer lights to be seen after -nightfall among these mornes. Some are zombi-fires; and some are -lanterns carried by living men; and some are lights burning in ajoupas -so high up that you can only see a gleam coming through the trees now -and then. It is not everybody who sees the lantern of Pè Labatt; and it -is not good-luck to see it. - -"Pè Labatt was a priest who lived here hundreds of years ago; and he -wrote a book about what he saw. He was the first person to introduce -slavery into Martinique; and it is thought that is why he comes back at -night. It is his penance for having established slavery here. - -"They used to say, before 1848, that when slavery should be abolished, -Pè Labatt's light would not be seen any more. But I can remember very -well when slavery was abolished; and I saw the light many a time after. -It used to move up the Morne d'Orange every dear night;--I could see it -very well from my window when I lived in St. Pierre. You knew it was Pè -Labatt, because the light passed up places where no man could walk. But -since the statue of Notre Dame de la Garde was placed on the Morne -d'Orange, people tell me that the light is not seen there any more. - -"But it is seen elsewhere; and it is not good-luck to see it. Everybody -is afraid of seeing it.... And mothers tell their children, when the -little ones are naughty: '_Mit main ké fai Pè Lobatt vini pouend -ou,--oui!_' (I will make Pè Labatt come and take you away.)"... - -What old Théréza stated regarding the establishment of slavery in -Martinique by Père Labat, I knew required no investigation,--inasmuch -as slavery was a flourishing institution in the time of Père Du Tertre, -another Dominican missionary and historian, who wrote his book,--a queer -book in old French,[8]--before Labat was born. But it did not take me -long to find out that such was the general belief about Père Labat's -sin and penance, and to ascertain that his name is indeed used to -frighten naughty children. _Eh! ti manmaille-là, moin ké fai Pè -Labatt vini pouend ou!_--is an exclamation often heard in the vicinity -of ajoupas just about the hour when all good little children ought to be -in bed and asleep. - -... The first variation of the legend I heard was on a plantation in the -neighborhood of Ajoupa-Bouillon. There I was informed that Père Labat -had come to his death by the bite of a snake,--the hugest snake that -ever was seen in Martinique. Père Labat had believed it possible to -exterminate the fer-de-lance, and had adopted extraordinary measures for -its destruction. On receiving his death-wound he exclaimed, "_C'est pè -toutt sépent qui té ka mòdé moin_" (It is the Father of all Snakes -that has bitten me); and he vowed that he would come back to destroy the -brood, and would haunt the island until there should be not one snake -left. And the light that moves about the peaks at night is the lantern -of Père Labat still hunting for snakes. - -"_Ou pa pè suive ti limié-là press!_" continued my informant. "You -cannot follow that little light at all;--when you first see it, it is -perhaps only a kilometre away; the next moment it is two, three or four -kilometres away." - -I was also told that the light is frequently seen near Grande Anse, on -the other side of the island,--and on the heights of La Caravelle, the -long fantastic promontory that reaches three leagues into the sea south -of the harbor of La Trinité.[9] And on my return to St. Pierre I found -a totally different version of the legend;--my informant being one -Manm-Robert, a kind old soul who kept a little _boutique-lapacotte_ (a -little booth where cooked food is sold) near the precipitous Street of -the Friendships. - -... "_Ah! Pè Labatt, oui!_" she exclaimed, at my first question,--"Pè -Labatt was a good priest who lived here very long ago. And they did him -a great wrong here;--they gave him a wicked _coup d'langue_ (tongue -wound); and the hurt given by an evil tongue is worse than a serpent's -bite. They lied about him; they slandered him until they got him sent -away from the country. But before the Government 'embarked' him, when he -got to that quay, he took off his shoes and he shook the dust of his -shoe upon that quay, and he said: 'I curse you, O Martinique!--I curse -you! There will be food for nothing, and your people will not even be -able to buy it! There will be clothing material for nothing, and your -people will not be able to get so much as one dress! And the children -will beat their mothers!... You banish me;--but I will come back -again.'"[10] - -"And then what happened, Manm-Robert?" - -"_Eh! fouinq! chè_, all that Pè Labatt said has come true. There is -food for almost nothing, and people are starving here in St. Pierre; -there is clothing for almost nothing, and poor girls cannot earn enough -to buy a dress. The pretty printed calicoes (_indiennes_) that used to -be two francs and a half the metre, now sell at twelve sous the metre; -but nobody has any money. And if you read our papers,--_Les Colonies, La -Defense Coloniale_,--you will find that there are sons wicked enough to -beat their mothers: _oui! yche ka bait maman!_ It is the malediction of -Pè Labatt." - -This was all that Manm-Robert could tell me. Who had related the story -to her? Her mother. Whence had her mother obtained it? From her -grandmother.... Subsequently I found many persons to confirm the -tradition of the curse,--precisely as Manm-Robert had related it. - - -Only a brief while after this little interview I was invited to pass an -afternoon at the home of a gentleman residing upon the Morne -d'Orange,--the locality supposed to be especially haunted by Père -Labat. The house of Monsieur M----stands on the side of the hill, fully -five hundred feet up, and in a grove of trees: an antiquated dwelling, -with foundations massive as the walls of a fortress, and huge broad -balconies of stone. From one of these balconies there is a view of the -city, the harbor, and Pelée, which I believe even those who have seen -Naples would confess to be one of the fairest sights in the world.... -Towards evening I obtained a chance to ask my kind host some questions -about the legend of his neighborhood. - -... "Ever since I was a child," observed Monsieur M----, "I heard it -said that Père Labat haunted this mountain, and I often saw what was -alleged to be his light. It looked very much like a lantern swinging in -the hand of some one climbing the hill. A queer fact was that it used to -come from the direction of Carbet, skirt the Morne d'Orange a few -hundred feet above the road, and then move up the face of what seemed a -sheer precipice. Of course somebody carried that light,--probably a -negro; and perhaps the cliff is not so inaccessible as it looks: still, -we could never discover who the individual was, nor could we imagine -what his purpose might have been.... But the light has not been seen -here now for years." - - -[Footnote 8: "Histoire Générale des Antilles... habités par les -Français." Par le R. P. Du Tertre, de l'Ordre des Frères Prescheurs. -Paris: 1661-71. 4 vols. (with illustrations) in 4 to.] - -[Footnote 9: One of the lights seen on the Caravelle was certainly -carried by a cattle-thief,--a colossal negro who had the reputation of -being a sorcerer,--a _quimboiseur._ The greater part of the mountainous -land forming La Caravelle promontory was at that time the property of a -Monsieur Eustache, who used it merely for cattle-raising purposes. He -allowed his animals to run wild in the hills; they multiplied -exceedingly, and became very savage. Notwithstanding their ferocity, -however, large numbers of them were driven away at night, and secretly -slaughtered or sold, by somebody who used to practise the art of -cattle-stealing with a lantern, and evidently without aid. A watch was -set, and the thief arrested. Before the magistrate he displayed -extraordinary assurance, asserting that he had never stolen from a poor -man--he had stolen only from M. Eustache who could not count his own -cattle--_yon richard, mon chè!_ "How many cows did you steal from him?" -asked the magistrate. "_Ess main pè save?--moin té pouend yon savane -toutt pleine_," replied the prisoner. (How can I tell?--I took a whole -savanna-full.)... Condemned on the strength of his own confession, he -was taken to jail. "_Moin pa ké rété la geôle_," he observed. (I -shall not remain in prison.) They put him in irons, but on the following -morning the irons were found lying on the floor of the cell, and the -prisoner was gone. He was never seen in Martinique again.] - -[Footnote 10: Y sucoué souyé assous quai-là;--y ka di: "Moin ka maudi -ou, Lanmatinique!--moin ka maudi ou!... Ké ni mangé pou engnien: ou pa -ké pè menm acheté y! Ké ni touèle pou engnien: ou pa ké pè menm -acheté yon robe! Epi yche ké batt manman.... Ou banni moin!--moin ké -vini encò!"] - - - - -III - - -And who was Père Labat,--this strange priest whose memory, weirdly -disguised by legend, thus lingers in the oral literature of the colored -people? Various encyclopædians answer the question, but far less fully -and less interestingly than Dr. Rufz, the Martinique historian, whose -article upon him in the _Études Statistiques et Historiques_ has that -charm of sympathetic comprehension by which a master-biographer -sometimes reveals himself a sort of necromancer,--making us feel a -vanished personality with the power of a living presence. Yet even the -colorless data given by dictionaries of biography should suffice to -convince most readers that Jean-Baptiste Labat must be ranked among the -extraordinary men of his century. - - -Nearly two hundred years ago--24th August, 1693--a traveller wearing the -white habit of the Dominican order, partly covered by a black camlet -overcoat, entered the city of Rochelle. He was very tall and robust, -with one of those faces, at once grave and keen, which bespeak great -energy and quick discernment. This was the Père Labat, a native of -Paris, then in his thirtieth year. Half priest, half layman, one might -have been tempted to surmise from his attire; and such a judgment would -not have been unjust. Labat's character was too large for his -calling,--expanded naturally beyond the fixed limits of the -ecclesiastical life; and throughout the whole active part of his strange -career we find in him this dual character of layman and monk. He had -come to Rochelle to take passage for Martinique. Previously he had been -professor of philosophy and mathematics at Nancy. While watching a -sunset one evening from the window of his study, some one placed in his -hands a circular issued by the Dominicans of the French West Indies, -calling for volunteers. Death had made many wide gaps in their ranks; -and various misfortunes had reduced their finances to such an extent -that ruin threatened all their West Indian establishments. Labat, with -the quick decision of a mind suffering from the restraints of a life too -narrow for it, had at once resigned his professorship, and engaged -himself for the missions. - -... In those days, communication with the West Indies was slow, -irregular, and difficult. Labat had to wait at Rochelle six whole months -for a ship. In the convent at Rochelle, where he stayed, there were -others waiting for the same chance,--including several Jesuits and -Capuchins as well as Dominicans. These unanimously elected him their -leader,--a significant fact considering the mutual jealousy of the -various religious orders of that period. There was something in the -energy and frankness of Labat's character which seems to have naturally -gained him the confidence and ready submission of others. - -... They sailed in November; and Labat still found himself in the -position of a chief on board. His account of the voyage is amusing;--in -almost everything except practical navigation, he would appear to have -regulated the life of passengers and crew. He taught the captain -mathematics; and invented amusements of all kinds to relieve the -monotony of a two months' voyage. - -... As the ship approached Martinique from the north, Labat first beheld -the very grimmest part of the lofty coast,--the region of Macouba; and -the impression it made upon him was not pleasing. "The island," he -writes, "appeared to me all one frightful mountain, broken everywhere by -precipices: nothing about it pleased me except the verdure which -everywhere met the eye, and which seemed to me both novel and agreeable, -considering the time of the year." - -Almost immediately after his arrival he was sent by the Superior of the -convent to Macouba, for acclimation; Macouba then being considered the -healthiest part of the island. Whoever makes the journey on horseback -thither from St. Pierre to-day can testify to the exactitude of Labat's -delightful narrative of the trip. So little has that part of the island -changed since two centuries that scarcely a line of the father's -description would need correction to adopt it bodily for an account of a -ride to Macouba in 1889. - -At Macouba everybody welcomes him, pets him,--finally becomes -enthusiastic about him. He fascinates and dominates the little community -almost at first sight. "There is an inexpressible charm," says -Rufz,--commenting upon this portion of Labat's narrative,--"in the -novelty of relations between men: no one has yet been offended, no envy -has yet been excited;--it is scarcely possible even to guess whence that -ill-will you must sooner or later provoke is going to come from;--there -are no rivals;--there are no enemies. You are everybody's friend; and -many are hoping you will continue to be only theirs."... Labat knew how -to take legitimate advantage of this good-will;--he persuaded his -admirers to rebuild the church at Macouba, according to designs made by -himself. - -At Macouba, however, he was not permitted to sojourn as long as the good -people of the little burgh would have deemed even reasonable: he had -shown certain aptitudes which made his presence more than desirable at -Saint-Jacques, the great plantation of the order on the Capesterre, or -Windward coast. It was in debt for 700,000 pounds of sugar,--an -appalling condition in those days,--and seemed doomed to get more -heavily in debt every successive season. Labat inspected everything, and -set to work for the plantation, not merely as general director, but as -engineer, architect, machinist, inventor. He did really wonderful -things. You can see them for yourself if you ever go to Martinique; for -the old Dominican plantation--now Government property, and leased at an -annual rent of 50,000 francs--remains one of the most valuable in the -colonies because of Labat's work upon it. The watercourses directed by -him still excite the admiration of modern professors of hydraulics; the -mills he built or invented are still good;--the treatise he wrote on -sugar-making remained for a hundred and fifty years the best of its -kind, and the manual of French planters. In less than two years Labat -had not only rescued the plantation from bankruptcy, but had made it -rich; and if the monks deemed him veritably inspired, the test of time -throws no ridicule on their astonishment at the capacities of the -man.... Even now the advice he formulated as far back as 1720--about -secondary cultures,--about manufactories to establish,--about imports, -exports, and special commercial methods--has lost little of its value. - -Such talents could not fail to excite wide-spread admiration,--nor to -win for him a reputation in the colonies beyond precedent. He was wanted -everywhere.... Auger, the Governor of Guadeloupe, sent for him to help -the colonists in fortifying and defending the island against the -English; and we find the missionary quite as much at home in this new -rôle--building bastions, scarps, counterscarps, ravelins, etc.,--as he -seemed to be upon the plantation of Saint-Jacques. We find him even -taking part in an engagement;--himself conducting an artillery -duel,--loading, pointing, and firing no less than twelve times after the -other French gunners had been killed or driven from their posts. After a -tremendous English volley, one of the enemy cries out to him in French: -"White Father, have they told?" (_Père Blanc, ont-ils porté?_) He -replies only after returning the fire with a better-directed aim, and -then repeats the mocking question: "Have they told? Yes, they have," -confesses the Englishman, in surprised dismay; "but we will pay you back -for that!"... - -... Returning to Martinique with new titles to distinction, Labat was -made Superior of the order in that island, and likewise Vicar-Apostolic. -After building the Convent of the Mouillage, at St. Pierre, and many -other edifices, he undertook that series of voyages in the interests of -the Dominicans whereof the narration fills six ample volumes. As a -traveller Père Labat has had few rivals in his own field;--no one, -indeed, seems to have been able to repeat some of his feats. All the -French and several of the English colonies were not merely visited by -him, but were studied in their every geographical detail. Travel in the -West Indies is difficult to a degree of which strangers have little -idea; but in the time of Père Labat there were few roads,--and a far -greater variety of obstacles. I do not believe there are half a dozen -whites in Martinique who thoroughly know their own island,--who have -even travelled upon all its roads; but Labat knew it as he knew the palm -of his hand, and travelled where roads had never been made. Equally well -he knew Guadeloupe and other islands; and he learned all that it was -possible to learn in those years about the productions and resources of -the other colonies. He travelled with the fearlessness and examined with -the thoroughness of a Humboldt,--so far as his limited science -permitted: had he possessed the knowledge of modern naturalists and -geologists he would probably have left little for others to discover -after him. Even at the present time West Indian travellers are glad to -consult him for information. - -These duties involved prodigious physical and mental exertion, in a -climate deadly to Europeans. They also involved much voyaging in waters -haunted by filibusters and buccaneers. But nothing appears to daunt -Labat. As for the filibusters, he becomes their comrade and personal -friend;--he even becomes their chaplain, and does not scruple to make -excursions with them. He figures in several sea-fights;--on one occasion -he aids in the capture of two English vessels,--and then occupies -himself in making the prisoners, among whom are several ladies, enjoy -the event like a holiday. On another voyage Labat's vessel is captured -by a Spanish ship. At one moment sabres are raised above his head, and -loaded muskets levelled at his breast;--the next, every Spaniard is on -his knees, appalled by a cross that Labat holds before the eyes of the -captors,--the cross worn by officers of the Inquisition,--the terrible -symbol of the Holy Office. "It did not belong to me," he says, "but to -one of our brethren who had left it by accident among my effects." He -seems always prepared in some way to meet any possible emergency. No -humble and timid monk this: he has the frame and temper of those -mediaeval abbots who could don with equal indifference the helmet or the -cowl. He is apparently even more of a soldier than a priest. When -English corsairs attempt a descent on the Martinique coast at -Sainte-Marie they find Père Labat waiting for them with all the negroes -of the Saint-Jacques plantation, to drive them back to their ships. - -For other dangers he exhibits absolute unconcern. He studies the -phenomena of hurricanes with almost pleasurable interest, while his -comrades on the ship abandon hope. When seized with yellow-fever, then -known as the Siamese Sickness (_mal de Siam_), he refuses to stay in bed -the prescribed time, and rises to say his mass. He faints at the altar; -yet a few days later we hear of him on horseback again, travelling over -the mountains in the worst and hottest season of the year... - -... Labat was thirty years old when he went to the Antilles;--he was -only forty-two when his work was done. In less than twelve years he made -his order the most powerful and wealthy of any in the West -Indies,--lifted their property out of bankruptcy to rebuild it upon a -foundation of extraordinary prosperity. As Rufz observes without -exaggeration, the career of Père Labat in the Antilles seems to more -than realize the antique legend of the labors of Hercules. Whithersoever -he went,--except in the English colonies,--his passage was memorialized -by the rising of chinches, convents, and schools,--as well as mills, -forts, and refineries. Even cities claim him as their founder. The -solidity of his architectural creations is no less remarkable than their -excellence of design;--much of what he erected still remains; what has -vanished was removed by human agency, and not by decay; and when the old -Dominican church at St. Pierre had to be pulled down to make room for a -larger edifice, the workmen complained that the stones could not be -separated,--that the walls seemed single masses of rock. There can be no -doubt, moreover, that he largely influenced the life of the colonies -during those years, and expanded their industrial and commercial -capacities. - -He was sent on a mission to Rome after these things had been done, and -never returned from Europe. There he travelled more or less in -after-years; but finally settled at Paris, where he prepared and -published the voluminous narrative of his own voyages, and other curious -books;--manifesting as a writer the same tireless energy he had shown in -so many other capacities. He does not, however, appear to have been -happy. Again and again he prayed to be sent back to his beloved -Antilles, and for some unknown cause the prayer was always refused. To -such a character, the restraint of the cloister must have proved a slow -agony; but he had to endure it for many long years. He died at Paris in -1738, aged seventy-five. - -... It was inevitable that such a man should make bitter enemies: his -preferences, his position, his activity, his business shrewdness, his -necessary self-assertion, must have created secret hate and jealousy -even when open malevolence might not dare to show itself. And to these -natural results of personal antagonism or opposition were afterwards -superadded various resentments--irrational, perhaps, but extremely -violent,--caused by the father's cynical frankness as a writer. He spoke -freely about the family origin and personal failings of various -colonists considered high personages in their own small world; and to -this day his book has an evil reputation undeserved in those old creole -communities, where any public mention of a family scandal is never -forgiven or forgotten.... But probably even before his work appeared it -had been secretly resolved that he should never be permitted to return -to Martinique or Guadeloupe after his European mission. The exact -purpose of the Government in this policy remains a mystery,--whatever -ingenious writers may have alleged to the contrary. We only know that M. -Adrien Dessalles,--the trustworthy historian of Martinique,--while -searching among the old _Archives de la Marine_, found there a -ministerial letter to the Intendent de Vaucresson in which this -statement occurs:-- - -... "Le Père Labat shall never be suffered to return to the colonies, -whatever efforts he may make to obtain permission." - - - - -IV - - -One rises from the perusal of the "Nouveau Voyage aux Isles de -l'Amérique" with a feeling approaching regret; for although the six -pursy little volumes composing it--full of quaint drawings, plans, and -odd attempts at topographical maps--reveal a prolix writer. Père Labat -is always able to interest. He reminds you of one of those slow, -precise, old-fashioned conversationalists who measure the weight of -every word and never leave anything to the imagination of the audience, -yet who invariably reward the patience of their listeners sooner or -later by reflections of surprising profundity or theories of a totally -novel description. But what particularly impresses the reader of these -volumes is not so much the recital of singular incidents and facts as -the revelation of the author's personality. Reading him, you divine a -character of enormous force,--gifted but unevenly balanced; singularly -shrewd in worldly affairs, and surprisingly credulous in other respects; -superstitious and yet cynical; unsympathetic by his positivism, but -agreeable through natural desire to give pleasure; just by nature, yet -capable of merciless severity; profoundly devout, but withal tolerant -for his calling and his time. He is sufficiently free from petty bigotry -to make fun of the scruples of his brethren in the matter of employing -heretics; and his account of the manner in which he secured the services -of a first-class refiner for the Martinique plantation at the Fond -Saint-Jacques is not the least amusing page in the book. He writes: "The -religious who had been appointed Superior in Guadeloupe wrote me that he -would find it difficult to employ this refiner because the man was a -Lutheran. This scruple gave me pleasure, as I had long wanted to have -him upon our plantation in the Fond Saint-Jacques, but did not know how -I would be able to manage it. I wrote to the Superior at once that all -he had to do was to send the man to me, because it was a matter of -indifference to me whether the sugar he might make were Catholic or -Lutheran sugar, provided it were very white."[11] He displays equal -frankness in confessing an error or a discomfiture. He acknowledges that -while Professor of Mathematics and Philosophy, he used to teach that -there were no tides in the tropics: and in a discussion as to whether -the _diablotin_ (a now almost extinct species of West Indian nocturnal -bird) were fish or flesh, and might or might not be eaten in Lent, he -tells us that he was fairly worsted,--(although he could cite the -celebrated myth of the "barnacle-geese" as a "fact" in justification of -one's right to doubt the nature of diablotins). - -One has reason to suspect that Père Labat, notwithstanding his -references to the decision of the Church that diablotins were not birds, -felt quite well assured within himself that they were. There is a sly -humor in his story of these controversies, which would appear to imply -that while well pleased at the decision referred to, he knew all about -diablotins. Moreover, the father betrays certain tendencies to -gormandize not altogether in harmony with the profession of an -ascetic.... There were parrots in nearly all of the French Antilles in -those days;[12] and Père Labat does not attempt to conceal his fondness -for--cooked parrots. (He does not appear to have cared much for them as -pets: if they could not talk well, he condemned them forthwith to the -pot.) "They all live upon fruits and seeds," he writes, "and their flesh -contracts the odor and color of that particular fruit or seed they feed -upon. They become exceedingly tat in the season when the guavas are -ripe; and when they eat the seeds of the _Bois d'Inde_ they have an odor -of nutmeg and cloves which is delightful (_une odeur de muscade et de -girofle qui fait plaisir_)." He recommends four superior ways of -preparing them, as well as other fowls, for the table, of which the -first and the best way is "to pluck them alive, then to make them -swallow vinegar, and then to strangle them while they have the vinegar -still in their throats by twisting their necks"; and the fourth way is -"to skin them alive" (_de les écorcher tout en vie_).... "It is -certain," he continues, "that these ways are excellent, and that fowls -that have to be cooked in a hurry thereby obtain an admirable tenderness -(_une tendreté admirable_)." Then he makes a brief apology to his -readers, not for the inhumanity of his recipes, but for a display of -culinary knowledge scarcely becoming a monk, and acquired only through -those peculiar necessities which colonial life in the tropics imposed -upon all alike. The touch of cruelty here revealed produces an -impression which there is little in the entire work capable of -modifying. Labat seems to have possessed but a very small quantity of -altruism; his cynicism on the subject of animal suffering is not offset -by any visible sympathy with human pain;--he never compassionates: you -may seek in vain through all his pages for one gleam of the goodness of -gentle Père Du Tertre, who, filled with intense pity for the condition -of the blacks, prays masters to be merciful and just to their slaves for -the love of God. Labat suggests, on the other hand, that slavery is a -good means of redeeming negroes from superstition and saving their souls -from hell: he selects and purchases them himself for the Saint-Jacques -plantation, never makes a mistake or a bad bargain, and never appears to -feel a particle of commiseration for their lot. In fact, the emotional -feeling displayed by Père Du Tertre (whom he mocks slyly betimes) must -have seemed to him rather condemnable than praiseworthy; for Labat -regarded the negro as a natural child of the devil,--a born -sorcerer,--an evil being wielding occult power. - -Perhaps the chapters on negro sorcery are the most astonishing in the -book, displaying on the part of this otherwise hard and practical nature -a credulity almost without limit. After having related how he had a -certain negro sent out of the country "who predicted the arrival of -vessels and other things to come,--in so far, at least, as the devil -himself was able to know and reveal these matters to him," he plainly -states his own belief in magic as follows.-- - -"I know there are many people who consider as pure imagination, and as -silly stories, or positive falsehoods, all that is related about -sorcerers and their compacts with the devil. I was myself for a long -time of this opinion. Moreover, I am aware that what is said on this -subject is frequently exaggerated; but I am now convinced it must be -acknowledged that all which has been related is not entirely false, -although perhaps it may not be entirely true."... - -Therewith he begins to relate stones upon what may have seemed -unimpeachable authority in those days. The first incident narrated took -place, he assures us, in the Martinique Dominican convent, shortly -before his arrival in the colony. One of the fathers, Père Fraise, had -had brought to Martinique, "from the kingdom of Juda (?) in Guinea," a -little negro about nine or ten years old. Not long afterwards there was -a serious drought, and the monks prayed vainly for rain. Then the negro -child, who had begun to understand and speak a little French, told his -masters that he was a Rainmaker, that he could obtain them all the rain -they wanted. "This proposition," says Père Labat, "greatly astonished -the fathers: they consulted together, and at last, curiosity overcoming -reason, they gave their consent that this unbaptized child should make -some rain fall in their garden." The unbaptized child asked them if they -wanted "a big or a little rain"; they answered that a moderate rain -would satisfy them. Thereupon the little negro got three oranges, and -placed them on the ground in a line at a short distance from one -another, and bowed down before each of them in turn, muttering words in -an unknown tongue. Then he got three small orange-branches, stuck a -branch in each orange, and repeated his prostrations and -mutterings;--after which he took one of the branches, stood up, and -watched the horizon. A small cloud appeared, and he pointed the branch -at it. It approached swiftly, rested above the garden, and sent down a -copious shower of rain. Then the boy made a hole in the ground, and -buried the oranges and the branches. The fathers were amazed to find -that not a single drop of rain had fallen outside their garden. They -asked the boy who had taught him this sorcery, and he answered them that -among the blacks on board the slave-ship which had brought him -over there were some Rain-makers who had taught him. Père Labat -declares there is no question as to the truth of the occurrence: -he cites the names of Père Praise Père Rosiè, Père Temple, and Père -Bournot,--all members of his own order,--as trustworthy witnesses of -this incident. - -Père Labat displays equal credulity in his recital of a still more -extravagant story told him by Madame la Comtesse du Gênes. M. le Comte -du Gênes, husband of the lady in question, and commander of a French -squadron, captured the English fort of Gorea in 1696, and made prisoners -of all the English slaves in the service of the factory there -established. But the vessel on which these were embarked was unable to -leave the coast, in spite of a good breeze: she seemed bewitched. Some -of the slaves finally told the captain there was a negress on board who -had enchanted the ship, and who had the power to "dry up the hearts" of -all who refused to obey her. A number of deaths taking place among the -blacks, the captain ordered autopsies made, and it was found that the -hearts of the dead negroes were desiccated. The negress was taken on -deck, tied to a gun and whipped, but uttered no cry;--the ship's -surgeon, angered at her stoicism, took a hand in the punishment and -flogged her "with all his force." Thereupon she told him that inasmuch -as he had abused her without reason, his heart also should be "dried -up." He died next day; and his heart was found in the condition -predicted. All this time the ship could not be made to move in any -direction; and the negress told the captain that until he should put her -and her companions on shore he would never be able to sail. To convince -him of her power she further asked him to place three fresh melons in a -chest, to lock the chest and put a guard over it; when she should tell -him to unlock it, there would be no melons there. The captain made the -experiment. When the chest was opened, the melons appeared to be there; -but on touching them it was found that only the outer rind remained: the -interior had been dried up,--like the surgeon's heart. Thereupon the -captain put the witch and her friends ashore, and sailed away without -further trouble. - -Another story of African sorcery for the truth of which Père Labat -earnestly vouches is the following:-- - -A negro was sentenced to be burned alive for witchcraft at St. Thomas in -1701: his principal crime was "having made a little figure of baked clay -to speak." A certain creole, meeting the negro on his way to the place -of execution, jeeringly observed, "Well, you cannot make your little -figure talk any more now;--it has been broken. If the gentleman allow -me," replied the prisoner, "I will make the cane he carries in his hand -speak." The creole's curiosity was strongly aroused: he prevailed upon -the guards to halt a few minutes, and permit the prisoner to make the -experiment. The negro then took the cane, stuck it into the ground in -the middle of the road, whispered something to it, and asked the -gentleman what he wished to know. "I would like to know," answered the -latter, "whether the ship----has yet sailed from Europe, and when she -will arrive." "Put your ear to the head of the cane," said the negro. On -doing so the creole distinctly heard a thin voice which informed him -that the vessel in question had left a certain French port on such a -date; that she would reach St. Thomas within three days; that she had -been delayed on her voyage by a storm which had carried away her foretop -and her mizzen sail; that she had such and such passengers on board -(mentioning the names), all in good health.... After this incident the -negro was burned alive; but within three days the vessel arrived in -port, and the prediction or divination was found to have been absolutely -correct in every particular. - -... Père Labat in no way disapproves the atrocious sentence inflicted -upon the wretched negro: in his opinion such predictions were made by -the power and with the personal aid of the devil; and for those who -knowingly maintained relations with the devil, he could not have -regarded any punishment too severe. That he could be harsh enough -himself is amply shown in various accounts of his own personal -experience with alleged sorcerers, and especially in the narration of -his dealings with one--apparently a sort of African doctor--who was a -slave on a neighboring plantation, but used to visit the Saint-Jacques -quarters by stealth to practise his art. One of the slaves of the order, -a negress, falling very sick, the wizard was sent for; and he came with -all his paraphernalia--little earthen pots and fetiches, etc.--during -the night. He began to practise his incantations, without the least -suspicion that Père Labat was watching him through a chink; and, after -having consulted his fetiches, he told the sick woman she would die -within four days. At this juncture the priest suddenly burst in the door -and entered, followed by several powerful slaves. He dashed to pieces -the soothsayer's articles, and attempted to reassure the frightened -negress, by declaring the prediction a lie inspired by the devil. Then -he had the sorcerer stripped and flogged in his presence. - -"I had him given," he calmly observes, "about (_environ_) three hundred -lashes, which flayed him (_l'écorchait_) from his shoulders to his -knees. He screamed like a madman. All the negroes trembled, and assured -me that the devil would cause my death.... Then I had the wizard put in -irons, after having had him well washed with a _pimentade_,--that is to -say, with brine in which pimentos and small lemons have been crushed. -This causes a horrible pain to those skinned by the whip; but it is a -certain remedy against gangrene."... - -And then he sent the poor wretch back to his master with a note -requesting the latter to repeat the punishment,--a demand that seems to -have been approved, as the owner of the negro was "a man who feared -God." Yet Père Labat is obliged to confess that in spite of all his -efforts, the sick negress died on the fourth day,--as the sorcerer had -predicted. This fact must have strongly confirmed his belief that the -devil was at the bottom of the whole affair, and caused him to doubt -whether even a flogging of _about_ three hundred lashes, followed by a -pimentade, was sufficient chastisement for the miserable black. Perhaps -the tradition of this frightful whipping may have had something to do -with the terror which still attaches to the name of the Dominican in -Martinique. The legal extreme punishment was twenty-nine lashes. - -Père Labat also avers that in his time the negroes were in the habit of -carrying sticks which had the power of imparting to any portion of the -human body touched by them a most severe chronic pain. He at first -believed, he says, that these pains were merely rheumatic; but after all -known remedies for rheumatism had been fruitlessly applied, he became -convinced there was something occult and diabolical in the manner of -using and preparing these sticks.... A fact worthy of note is that this -belief is still prevalent in Martinique! - -One hardly ever meets in the country a negro who does not carry either a -stick or a cutlass, or both. The cutlass is indispensable to those who -work in the woods or upon plantations; the stick is carried both as a -protection against snakes and as a weapon of offence and defence in -village quarrels, for unless a negro be extraordinarily drunk he will -not strike his fellow with a cutlass. The sticks are usually made of a -strong dense wood: those most sought after of a material termed -_moudongue_,[13] almost as tough as, but much lighter than, our hickory. -On inquiring whether any of the sticks thus carried were held to possess -magic powers, I was assured by many country people that there were men -who knew a peculiar method of "arranging" sticks so that to touch any -person with them even lightly, _and through any thickness of clothing_, -would produce terrible and continuous pain. - - -[Illustration: LE CALVAIRE -_Above the village of Fort-de-France a series of fourteen -little crosses lines the roadside to the hilltop--each -bearing a relievo representing incidents of Christ's -Passion._] - - -Believing in these things, and withal unable to decide whether the sun -revolved about the earth, or the earth about the sun,[14] Père Labat -was, nevertheless, no more credulous and no more ignorant than the -average missionary of his time: it is only by contrast with his -practical perspicacity in other matters, his worldly rationalism and -executive shrewdness, that this superstitious naïveté impresses one as -odd. And how singular sometimes is the irony of Time! All the wonderful -work the Dominican accomplished has been forgotten by the people; while -all the witchcrafts that he warred against survive and flourish openly; -and his very name is seldom uttered but in connection with -superstitions,--has been, in fact, preserved among the blacks by the -power of superstition alone, by the belief in zombis and even -goblins.... "_Mi! ti manmaille-là, main ké fai Pè Labatt vini pouend -ou!_"... - - -[Footnote 11: Vol. III, p. 382-3. Edition of 1722.] - -[Footnote 12: The parrots of Martinique he describes as having been -green, with slate-colored plumage on the top of the head, mixed with a -little red, and as having a few red feathers in the wings, throat, and -tail.] - -[Footnote 13: The creole word _moudongue_ is said to be a corruption of -_Mondongue_, the name of an African coast tribe who had the reputation -of being cannibals. A Mondongue slave on the plantations was generally -feared by his fellow-blacks of other tribes; and the name of the -cannibal race became transformed into an adjective to denote anything -formidable or terrible. A blow with a stick made of the wood described -being greatly dreaded, the term was applied first to the stick, and -afterward to the wood itself.] - -[Footnote 14: Accounting for the origin of the trade-winds, he writes: -"I say that the Trade-Winds do not exist in the Torrid Zone merely by -chance; forasmuch as the cause which produces them is very necessary, -very sure, and very continuous, since they result _either from the -movement of the Earth around the Sun, or from the movement of the Sun -around the Earth, Whether it he the one or the other of these two great -bodies which moves_..." etc.] - - - - -V - - -Few habitants of St. Pierre now remember that the beautiful park behind -the cathedral used to be called the Savanna of the White Fathers,--and -the long shadowed meadow beside the Roxelane, the Savanna of the Black -Fathers: the Jesuits. All the great religious orders have long since -disappeared from the colony: their edifices have been either converted -to other uses or demolished; their estates have passed into other -hands.... Were their labors, then, productive of merely ephemeral -results?--was the colossal work of a Père Labat all in vain, so far as -the future is concerned? The question is not easily answered; but it is -worth considering. - -Of course the material prosperity which such men toiled to obtain for -their order represented nothing more, even to their eyes, than the means -of self-maintenance, and the accumulation of force necessary for the -future missionary labors of the monastic community. The real ultimate -purpose was, not the acquisition of power for the order, but for the -Church, of which the orders represented only a portion of the force -militant; and this purpose did not fail of accomplishment. The orders -passed away only when their labors had been completed,--when Martinique -had become (exteriorly, at least) more Catholic than Rome itself,--after -the missionaries had done all that religious zeal could do in moulding -and remoulding the human material under their control. These men could -scarcely have anticipated those social and political changes which the -future reserved for the colonies, and which no ecclesiastical sagacity -could, in any event, have provided against. It is in the existing -religious condition of these communities that one may observe and -estimate the character and the probable duration of the real work -accomplished by the missions. - -... Even after a prolonged residence in Martinique, its visible -religious condition continues to impress one as something phenomenal. A -stranger, who has no opportunity to penetrate into the home life of the -people, will not, perhaps, discern the full extent of the religious -sentiment; but, nevertheless, however brief his stay, he will observe -enough of the extravagant symbolism of the cult to fill him with -surprise. Wherever he may choose to ride or to walk, he is certain to -encounter shrines, statues of saints, or immense crucifixes. Should he -climb up to the clouds of the peaks, he will find them all along the -way;--he will perceive them waiting for him, looming through the mists -of the heights; and passing through the loveliest ravines, he will see -niches hollowed out in the volcanic rocks, above and below him, or -contrived in the trunks of trees bending over precipices, often in -places so difficult of access that he wonders how the work could have -been accomplished. All this has been done by the various property-owners -throughout the country: it is the traditional custom to do it--brings -good-luck! After a longer stay in the island, one discovers also that in -almost every room of every dwelling--stone residence, wooden cottage, or -palm-thatched ajoupa--there is a chapelle: that is, a sort of large -bracket fastened to the wall, on which crosses or images are placed, -with vases of flowers, and lamps or wax-tapers to be burned at night. -Sometimes, moreover, statues are placed in windows, or above -door-ways;--and all passers-by take off their hats to these. Over the -porch of the cottage in a mountain village, where I lived for some -weeks, there was an absurd little window contrived,--a sort of purely -ornamental dormer,--and in this a Virgin about five inches high had been -placed. At a little distance it looked like a toy,--a child's doll -forgotten there; and a doll I always supposed it to be, until one day -that I saw a long procession of black laborers passing before the house, -every one of whom took off his hat to it.... My bedchamber in the same -cottage resembled a religious museum. On the chapelle there were no less -than eight Virgins, varying in height from one to sixteen inches,--a St. -Joseph,--a St. John,--a crucifix,--and a host of little objects in the -shape of hearts or crosses, each having some special religious -significance;--while the walls were covered with framed certificates of -baptism, "first-communion," confirmation, and other documents -commemorating the whole church life of the family for two generations. - -... Certainly the first impression created by this perpetual display of -crosses, statues, and miniature chapels is not pleasing,--particularly -as the work is often inartistic to a degree bordering upon the -grotesque, and nothing resembling art is anywhere visible. Millions of -francs must have been consumed in these creations, which have the -rudeness of mediævalism without its emotional sincerity, and -which--amid the loveliness of tropic nature, the grace of palms, the -many-colored fire of liana blossoms--jar on the æsthetic sense with an -almost brutal violence. Yet there is a veiled poetry in these silent -populations of plaster and wood and stone. They represent something -older than the Middle Ages, older than Christianity,--something -strangely distorted and transformed, it is true, but recognizably -conserved by the Latin race from those antique years when every home had -its beloved ghosts, when every wood or hill or spring had its gracious -divinity, and the boundaries of all fields were marked and guarded by -statues of gods. - -Instances of iconoclasm are of course highly rare in a country of which -no native--rich or poor, white or half-breed--fails to doff his hat -before every shrine, cross, or image he may happen to pass. Those -merchants of St. Pierre or of Fort-de-France living only a few miles out -of the city must certainly perform a vast number of reverences on their -way to or from business;--I saw one old gentleman uncover his white head -about twenty times in the course of a fifteen minutes' walk. I never -heard of but one image-breaker in Martinique; and his act was the result -of superstition, not of any hostility to popular faith or custom: it was -prompted by the same childish feeling which moves Italian fishermen -sometimes to curse St. Antony or to give his image a ducking in bad -weather. This Martinique iconoclast was a negro cattle-driver who one -day, feeling badly in need of a glass of tafia, perhaps, left the -animals intrusted to him in care of a plaster image of the Virgin, with -this menace (the phrase is on record):-- - -"_Moin ka quitté bef-la ba ou pou gàdé ba moin. Quand moin vini, si -moin pa trouvé compte-moin, moin ké fouté ou vingt-nèf coudfouètt!_" -(I leave these cattle with you to take care of for me. When I come -back, if I don't find them all here, I'll give you twenty-nine lashes.) - - -[Illustration: A WAYSIDE SHRINE -"_There is a veiled poetry in these silent populations of -plaster and wood and stone. Something older than -the Middle Ages, older than Christianity._"] - - -Returning about half an hour later, he was greatly enraged to find his -animals scattered in every direction;--and, rushing at the statue, he -broke it from the pedestal, fixing it upon the ground, and gave it -twenty-nine lashes with his bull-whip. For this he was arrested, tried, -and sentenced to imprisonment, with hard labor, for life! In those days -there were no colored magistrates;--the judges were all _bêkés._ - -"Rather a severe sentence," I remarked to my informant, a planter who -conducted me to the scene of the alleged sacrilege. - -"Severe, yes," he answered;--"and I suppose the act would seem to you -more idiotic than criminal. But here, in Martinique, there were large -questions involved by such an offence. Relying, as we have always done -to some extent, upon religious influence as a factor in the maintenance -of social order, the negro's act seemed a dangerous example."... - - -That the Church remains still rich and prosperous in Martinique there -can be no question; but whether it continues to wield any powerful -influence in the maintenance of social order is more than doubtful. A -Polynesian laxity of morals among the black and colored population, and -the history of race-hatreds and revolutions inspired by race-hate, would -indicate that neither in ethics nor in politics does it possess any -preponderant authority. By expelling various religious orders;--by -establishing lay schools, lycées, and other educational institutions -where the teaching is largely characterized by aggressive antagonism to -Catholic ideas;--by the removal of crucifixes and images from public -buildings, French Radicalism did not inflict any great blow upon Church -interests. So far as the white, and, one may say, the wealthy, -population is concerned, the Church triumphs in her hostility to the -Government schools; and to the same extent she holds an educational -monopoly. No white creole would dream of sending his children to a lay -school or a lycée--notwithstanding the unquestionable superiority of -the educational system in the latter institutions;--and, although -obliged, as the chief tax-paying class, to bear the burden of -maintaining these establishments, the whites hold them in such horror -that the Government professors are socially ostracized. No doubt the -prejudice or pride which abhors mixed schools aids the Church in this -respect; she herself recognizes race-feeling, keeps her schools unmixed, -and even in her convents, it is said, obliges the colored nuns to serve -the white! For more than two centuries every white generation has been -religiously moulded in the seminaries and convents; and among the native -whites one never hears an overt declaration of free-thought opinion. -Except among the colored men educated in the Government schools, or -their foreign professors, there are no avowed free-thinkers;--and this, -not because the creole whites, many of whom have been educated in Paris, -are naturally narrow-minded, or incapable of sympathy with the mental -expansion of the age, but because the religious question at Martinique -has become so intimately complicated with the social and political one, -concerning which there can be no compromise whatever, that to divorce -the former from the latter is impossible. Roman Catholicism is an -element of the cement which holds creole society together; and it is -noteworthy that other creeds are not represented. I knew of only one -Episcopalian and one Methodist in the island,--and heard a sort of -legend about a solitary Jew whose whereabouts I never could -discover;--but these were strangers. - -It was only through the establishment of universal suffrage, which -placed the white population at the mercy of its former slaves, that the -Roman Church sustained any serious injury. All local positions are -filled by blacks or men of color; no white creole can obtain a public -office or take part in legislation; and the whole power of the black -vote is ungenerously used against the interests of the class thus -politically disinherited. The Church suffers in consequence: her power -depended upon her intimate union with the wealthy and dominant class; -and she will never be forgiven by those now in power for her sympathetic -support of that class in other years. Politics yearly intensify this -hostility; and as the only hope for the restoration of the whites to -power, and of the Church to its old position, lies in the possibility of -another empire or a revival of the monarchy, the white creoles and their -Church are forced into hostility against republicanism and the republic. -And political newspapers continually attack Roman Catholicism,--mock its -tenets and teachings,--ridicule its dogmas and ceremonies,--satirize its -priests. - -In the cities and towns the Church indeed appears to retain a large -place in the affection of the poorer classes;--her ceremonies are always -well attended; money pours into her coffers; and one can still witness -the curious annual procession of the "converted,"--aged women of color -and negresses going to communion for the first time, all wearing -snow-white turbans in honor of the event. But among the country people, -where the dangerous forces of revolution exist, Christian feeling is -almost stifled by ghastly beliefs of African origin;--the images and -crucifixes still command respect, but this respect is inspired by a -feeling purely fetichistic. With the political dispossession of the -whites, certain dark powers, previously concealed or repressed, have -obtained formidable development. The old enemy of Père Labat, the -wizard (the _quimboiseur_), already wields more authority than the -priest, exercises more terror than the magistrate, commands more -confidence than the physician. The educated mulatto class may affect to -despise him;--but he is preparing their overthrow in the dark. -Astonishing is the persistence with which the African has clung to these -beliefs and practices, so zealously warred upon by the Church and so -mercilessly punished by the courts for centuries. He still goes to mass, -and sends his children to the priest; but he goes more often to the -quimboiseur and the "_magnetise._" He finds use for both beliefs, but -gives large preference to the savage one,--just as he prefers the -pattering of his tamtam to the music of the military band at the _Savane -du Fort_.... And should it come to pass that Martinique be ever totally -abandoned by its white population,--an event by no means improbable in -the present order of things,--the fate of the ecclesiastical fabric so -toilsomely reared by the monastic orders is not difficult to surmise. - - - - -VI - - -From my window in the old Rue du Bois-Morin,--which climbs the foot -of Morne Labelle by successions of high stone steps,--all the -southern end of the city is visible as in a bird's-eye view. Under me -is a long peaking of red-scaled roofs,--gables and dormer-windows,--with -clouds of bright green here and there,--foliage of tamarind and -corossolier;--westward purples and flames the great circle of the -Caribbean Sea;--east and south, towering to the violet sky, curve the -volcanic hills, green-clad from base to summit;--and right before me the -beautiful Morne d'Orange, all palm-plumed and wood-wrapped, trends -seaward and southward. And every night, after the stars come out, I see -moving lights there,--lantern fires guiding the mountain-dwellers home; -but I look in vain for the light of Père Labat. - -And nevertheless,--although no believer in ghosts,--I see thee very -plainly sometimes, thou quaint White Father, moving through winter-mists -in the narrower Paris of another century; musing upon the churches that -arose at thy bidding under tropic skies; dreaming of the primeval -valleys changed by thy will to green-gold seas of cane,--and the strong -mill that will bear thy name for two hundred years (it stands solid unto -this day),--and the habitations made for thy brethren in pleasant palmy -places,--and the luminous peace of thy Martinique convent,--and odor of -roasting parrots fattened upon _grains de bois d'Inde_ and -guavas,--"_l'odeur de muscade et de girofle qui fait plaisir_"... - -Eh, Père Labat!--what changes there have been since thy day! The White -Fathers have no place here now; and the Black Fathers, too, have been -driven from the land, leaving only as a memory of them the perfect and -ponderous architecture of the Perinnelle plantation-buildings, and the -appellation of the river still known as the Rivière des Pères. Also -the Ursulines are gone, leaving only their name on the corner of a -crumbling street. And there are no more slaves; and there are new races -of colors thou wouldst deem scandalous though beautiful; and there are -no more parrots; and there are no more diablotins. And the grand woods -thou sawest in their primitive and inviolate beauty, as if fresh from -the Creator's touch in the morning of the world, are passing away; the -secular trees are being converted into charcoal, or sawn into timber for -the boat-builders: thou shouldst see two hundred men pulling some forest -giant down to the sea upon the two-wheeled screaming thing they call a -"devil" (_yon diabe_),--cric-crac!--cric-crac!--all chanting together:-- - - -"_Soh-soh!--yaïe-yah! -Rhâlé bois-canot!_" - - -And all that ephemeral man has had power to change has been -changed,--ideas, morals, beliefs, the whole social fabric. But the -eternal summer remains,--and the Hesperian magnificence of azure sky and -violet sea,--and the jewel-colors of the perpetual hills;--the same -tepid winds that rippled thy cane-fields two hundred years ago still -blow over Sainte-Marie;--the same purple shadows lengthen and dwindle -and turn with the wheeling of the sun. God's witchery still fills this -land; and the heart of the stranger is even yet snared by the beauty of -it; and the dreams of him that forsakes it will surely be haunted--even -as were thine own. Père Labat--by memories of its Eden-summer: the -sudden leap of the light over a thousand peaks in the glory of tropic -dawn,--the perfumed peace of enormous azure noons,--and shapes of palm -wind-rocked in the burning of colossal sunsets,--and the silent -flickering of the great fire-flies through the lukewarm darkness, when -mothers call their children home.... "_Mi fanal Pè Labatt!--mi Pè -Labatt ka vini pouend oi!_" - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LA GUIABLESSE - - -I - - -Night in all countries brings with it vaguenesses and illusions which -terrify certain imaginations;--but in the tropics it produces effects -peculiarly impressive and peculiarly sinister. Shapes of vegetation that -startle even while the sun shines upon them assume, after his setting, a -grimness,--a grotesquery,--a suggestiveness for which there is no -name.... In the North a tree is simply a tree;--here it is a personality -that makes itself felt; it has a vague physiognomy, an indefinable Me: -it is an Individual (with a capital I); it is a Being (with a capital -B). - -From the high woods, as the moon mounts, fantastic darknesses descend -into the roads,--black distortions, mockeries, bad dreams,--an endless -procession of goblins. Least startling are the shadows flung down by the -various forms of palm, because instantly recognizable;--yet these take -the semblance of giant fingers opening and closing over the way, or a -black crawling of unutterable spiders.... - -Nevertheless, these phasma seldom alarm the solitary and belated Bitaco: -the darknesses that creep stealthily along the path have no frightful -signification for him,--do not appeal to his imagination;--if he -suddenly starts and stops and stares, it is not because of such shapes, -but because he has perceived two specks of orange light, and is not yet -sure whether they are only fire-flies, or the eyes of a trigonocephalus. -The spectres of his fancy have nothing in common with those indistinct -and monstrous umbrages: what he most fears, next to the deadly serpent, -are human witchcrafts. A white rag, an old bone lying in the path, might -be a maléfice which, if trodden upon, would cause his leg to blacken -and swell up to the size of the limb of an elephant;--an unopened bundle -of plantain leaves or of bamboo strippings, dropped by the way-side, -might contain the skin of a _Soucouyan._ But the ghastly being who doffs -or dons his skin at will--and the Zombi--and the _Moun-Mò_--may be -quelled or exorcised by prayer; and the lights of shrines, the white -gleaming of crosses, continually remind the traveller of his duty to the -Powers that save. All along the way there are shrines at intervals, not -very far apart: while standing in the radiance of one niche-lamp, you -may perhaps discern the glow of the next, if the road be level and -straight. They are almost everywhere,--shining along the skirts of the -woods, at the entrance of ravines, by the verges of precipices;--there -is a cross even upon the summit of the loftiest peak in the island. And -the night-walker removes his hat each time his bare feet touch the soft -stream of yellow light outpoured from the illuminated shrine of a white -Virgin or a white Christ. These are good ghostly company for him;--he -salutes them, talks to them, tells them his pains or fears: their -blanched faces seem to him full of sympathy;--they appear to cheer him -voicelessly as he strides from gloom to gloom, under the goblinry of -those woods which tower black as ebony under the stars.... And he has -other companionship. One of the greatest terrors of darkness in other -lands does not exist here after the setting of the sun,--the terror of -Silence.... Tropical night is full of voices;--extraordinary -populations of crickets are trilling; nations of tree-frogs are -chanting; the _Cabri-des-bois_,[15] or _cra-cra_, almost deafens you -with the wheezy bleating sound by which it earned its creole name; birds -pipe: everything that bells, ululates, drones, clacks, guggles, joins -the enormous chorus; and you fancy you see all the shadows vibrating to -the force of this vocal storm. The true life of Nature in the tropics -begins with the darkness, ends with the light. - -And it is partly, perhaps, because of these conditions that the coming -of the dawn does not dissipate all fears of the supernatural. _I ni pè -zombi mênm gran'-jou_ (he is afraid of ghosts even in broad daylight) -is a phrase which does not sound exaggerated in these latitudes,--not, -at least, to any one knowing something of the conditions that nourish or -inspire weird beliefs. In the awful peace of tropical day, in the hush -of the woods, the solemn silence of the hills (broken only by torrent -voices that cannot make themselves heard at night), even in the amazing -luminosity, there is a something apparitional and weird,--something that -seems to weigh upon the world like a measureless haunting. So still all -Nature's chambers are that a loud utterance jars upon the ear brutally, -like a burst of laughter in a sanctuary. With all its luxuriance of -color, with all its violence of light, this tropical day has its -ghostliness and its ghosts. Among the people of color there are many who -believe that even at noon--when the boulevards behind the city are most -deserted--the zombis will show themselves to solitary loiterers. - - -[Footnote 15: In creole, _cabritt-bois_--("the Wood-Kid")--a colossal -cricket. Precisely at half-past four in the morning it becomes silent; -and for thousands of early risers too poor to own a dock, the cessation -of its song is the signal to get up.] - - - - -II - - -... Here a doubt occurs to me,--a doubt regarding the precise nature of -a word, which I call upon Adou to explain. Adou is the daughter of the -kind old capresse from whom I rent my room in this little mountain -cottage. The mother is almost precisely the color of cinnamon; the -daughter's complexion is brighter,--the ripe tint of an orange.... Adou -tells me creole stories and _tim-tim._ Adou knows all about ghosts, and -believes in them. So does Adou's extraordinarily tall brother, -Yébé,--my guide among the mountains. - ---"Adou," I ask, "what is a zombi?" - -The smile that showed Adou's beautiful white teeth has instantly -disappeared; and she answers, very seriously, that she has never seen a -zombi, and does not want to see one. - ---"_Moin pa té janmain ouè zombi,--pa 'lè ouè ça, moin!_" - ---"But, Adou, child, I did not ask you whether you ever saw It;--I asked -you only to tell me what It is like?"... - -Adou hesitates a little, and answers: - ---"_Zombi? Mais ça fai désòde lanuitt, zombi!_" - -Ah! it is Something which "makes disorder at night." Still, that is not -a satisfactory explanation. "Is it the spectre of a dead person, Adou? -Is it _one who comes back?_" - ---"_Non, Misié,--non; çê pa ça._" - ---"Not that?... Then what was it you said the other night when you were -afraid to pass the cemetery on an errand,--_ça ou té ka di_, Adou?" - ---"Moin té ka di: 'Moin pa lé k'allé bò cimétiè-là pa ouappò -moun-mò ké barré moin: moin pa sé pè vini enco.'" (_I said, "I do -not want to goby that cemetery because of the dead folk;--the dead folk -will bar the way and I cannot get back again._") - ---"And you believe that, Adou?" - ---"Yes, that is what they say.... And if you go into the cemetery at -night you cannot come out again: the dead folk will stop you--_moun-mò -ké barré ou._"... - ---"But are the dead folk zombis, Adou?" - ---"No; the moun-mò are not zombis. The zombis go everywhere: the dead -folk remain in the graveyard.... Except on the Night of All Souls: then -they go to the houses of their people everywhere." - ---"Adou, if after the doors and windows were locked and barred you were -to see entering your room in the middle of the night, a Woman fourteen -feet high?"... - ---"_Ah! pa pàlé ça!!_"... - ---"No! tell me, Adou?" - ---"Why, yes: that would be a zombi. It is the zombis who make all those -noises at night one cannot understand.... Or, again, if I were to see a -dog that high [she holds her hand about five feet above the floor] -coming into our house at night, I would scream: _Mi Zombi!_" - -... Then it suddenly occurs to Adou that her mother knows something -about zombis. - ---"_Ou! Mannam!_" - ---"_Eti!_" answers old Théréza's voice from the little out-building -where the evening meal is being prepared, over a charcoal furnace, in an -earthen canari. - ---"_Missié-là ka mandé save ça ça yé yonne zombi;--vini ti -bouin!_"... The mother laughs, abandons her canari, and comes in to tell -me all she knows about the weird word. - -"_I ni pè zombi_"--I find from old Théréza's explanations--is a -phrase indefinite as our own vague expressions, "afraid of ghosts, -afraid of the dark." But the word "Zombi" also has special strange -meanings.... "Ou passé nans grand chimin lanuitt, épi ou ka ouè -gouôs difé, épi plis ou ka vini assou difé-à pli ou ka ouè -difé-à ka màché: çé zombi ka fai ça.... Encò, chouval ka -passé,--chouval ka ni anni toua patt: ça zombi." (You pass along the -high-road at night, and you see a great fire, and the more you walk to -get to it the more it moves away: it is the zombi makes that.... Or a -horse _with only three legs_ passes you: that is a zombi.) - ---"How big is the fire that the zombi makes?" I ask. - ---"It fills the whole road," answers Théréza: "_li ka rempli toutt -chimin-là._ Folk call those fires the Evil Fires,--_mauvai difé_,--and -if you follow them they will lead you into chasms,--_ou ké tombé adans -labîme._"... - -And then she tells me this: - ---"Baidaux was a mad man of color who used to live at St. Pierre, in the -Street of the Precipice. He was not dangerous,--never did any harm;--his -sister used to take care of him. And what I am going to relate is -true,--_çe zhistouè veritabe!_ - -"One day Baidaux said to his sister: 'Moin ni yonne yche, va!--ou pa -connaitt li! [I have a child, ah!--you never saw it!] His sister paid no -attention to what he said that day; but the next day he said it again, -and the next, and the next, and every day after,--so that his sister at -last became much annoyed by it, and used to cry out: 'Ah! mais pé -guiole ou, Baidaux! ou fou pou embêté moin conm ça!--ou bien fou!'... -But he tormented her that way for months and for years. - -"One evening he went out, and only came home at midnight leading a child -by the hand,--a black child he had found in the street; and he said to -his sister:-- - -"'Mi yche-là moin mené ba ou! Tou léjou moin té ka di ou moin tini -yonne yche: ou pa té 'lè couè,--eh, ben! MI Y!' [Look at the child I -have brought you! Every day I have been telling you I had a child: you -would not believe me,--very well, look at him!] - -"The sister gave one look, and cried out: 'Baidaux, oti ou pouend -yche-là?'... For the child was growing taller and taller every -moment.... And Baidaux,--because he was mad,--kept saying: 'Çé -yche-moin! çé yche moin!' [It is my child!] - -"And the sister threw open the shutters and screamed to all the -neighbors,--'_Sécou, sécou, sécou! Vint oué ça Baidaux mené ba -moin!_' [Help! help! Come see what Baidaux has brought in here!] And the -child said to Baidaux: '_Ou ni bonhè ou fou!_' [You are lucky that you -are mad!]... Then all the neighbors came running in; but they could not -see anything: the Zombi was gone."... - - - - -III - - -... As I was saying, the hours of vastest light have their weirdness -here;--and it is of a Something which walketh abroad under the eye of -the sun, even at high noontide, that I desire to speak, while the -impressions of a morning journey to the scene of Its last alleged -apparition yet remains vivid in my recollection. - -You follow the mountain road leading from Calebasse over long meadowed -levels two thousand feet above the ocean, into the woods of La Couresse, -where it begins to descend slowly, through deep green shadowing, by -great zigzags. Then, at a turn, you find yourself unexpectedly looking -down upon a planted valley, through plumy fronds of arborescent fern. -The surface below seems almost like a lake of gold-green -water,--especially when long breaths of mountain-wind set the miles of -ripening cane a-ripple from verge to verge: the illusion is marred only -by the road, fringed with young cocoa-palms, which serpentines across -the luminous plain. East, west, and north the horizon is almost wholly -hidden by surging of hills: those nearest are softly shaped and -exquisitely green; above them loftier undulations take hazier verdancy -and darker shadows; farther yet rise silhouettes of blue or violet tone, -with one beautiful breast-shaped peak thrusting up in the midst;--while, -westward, over all, topping even the Piton, is a vapory huddling of -prodigious shapes--wrinkled, fissured, horned, fantastically tall.... -Such at least are the tints of the morning.... Here and there, between -gaps in the volcanic chain, the land hollows into gorges, slopes down -into ravines;--and the sea's vast disk of turquoise flames up through -the interval. Southwardly those deep woods, through which the way winds -down, shut in the view.... You do not see the plantation buildings till -you have advanced some distance into the valley;--they are hidden by a -fold of the land, and stand in a little hollow where the road turns: a -great quadrangle of low gray antiquated edifices, heavily walled and -buttressed, and roofed with red tiles. The court they form opens upon -the main route by an immense archway. Farther along ajoupas begin to -line the way,--the dwellings of the field hands,--tiny cottages built -with trunks of the arborescent fern or with stems of bamboo, and -thatched with cane-straw: each in a little garden planted with bananas, -yams, couscous, camanioc, choux-caraibes, or other things,--and hedged -about with roseaux d'Inde and various flowering shrubs. - -Thereafter, only the high whispering wildernesses of cane on either -hand,--the white silent road winding between its swaying -cocoa-trees,--and the tips of hills that seem to glide on before you as -you walk, and that take, with the deepening of the afternoon light, such -amethystine color as if they were going to become transparent. - - - - -IV - - -... It is a breezeless and cloudless noon. Under the dazzling downpour -of light the hills seem to smoke blue: something like a thin yellow fog -haloes the leagues of ripening cane,--a vast reflection. There is no -stir in all the green mysterious front of the vine-veiled woods. The -palms of the roads keep their heads quite still, as if listening. The -canes do not utter a single susurration. Rarely is there such absolute -stillness among them: upon the calmest days there are usually rustlings -audible, thin cracklings, faint creepings: sounds that betray the -passing of some little animal or reptile--a rat or a manicou, or a -zanoli or couresse,--more often, however, no harmless lizard or snake, -but the deadly fer-de-lance. To-day, all these seem to sleep; and there -are no workers among the cane to clear away the weeds,--to uproot the -_pié-treffe, pié-poule, pié-balai, zhèbe-en-mè_: it is the hour of -rest. - - -[Illustration: PITONS DU CARBET -"_The horizon is almost wholly hidden by surging of -hills: silhouettes of blue and violet... a vapory huddling -of prodigious shapes._"] - - -A woman is coming along the road,--young, very swarthy, very tall, and -barefooted, and black-robed: she wears a high white turban with dark -stripes, and a white foulard is thrown about her fine shoulders; she -bears no burden, and walks very swiftly and noiselessly.... Soundless as -shadow the motion of all these naked-footed people is. On any quiet -mountain-way, full of curves, where you fancy yourself alone, you may -often be startled by something you _feel_, rather than hear, behind -you,--surd steps, the springy movement of a long lithe body, dumb -oscillations of raiment;--and ere you can turn to look, the haunter -swiftly passes with creole greeting of "bonjou'" or "bonsouè, Missié." -This sudden "becoming aware" in broad daylight of a living presence -unseen is even more disquieting than that sensation which, in absolute -darkness, makes one halt all breathlessly before great solid objects, -whose proximity has been revealed by some mute blind emanation of force -alone. But it is very seldom, indeed, that the negro or half-breed is -thus surprised: he seems to divine an advent by some specialized -sense,--like an animal,--and to become conscious of a look directed upon -him from any distance or from behind any covert;--to pass within the -range of his keen vision unnoticed is almost impossible.... And the -approach of this woman has been already observed by the habitants of the -ajoupas;--dark faces peer out from windows and door-ways;--one -half-nude laborer even strolls out to the road-side under the sun to -watch her coming. He looks a moment, turns to the hut again, and -calls:-- - ---"Ou-ou! Fafa!" - ---"Êti! Gabou!" - ---"Vini ti bouin!--mi bel négresse!" - -Out rushes Fafa, with his huge straw hat in his hand: "Oti, Gabou?" - ---"Mi!" - ---"Ah! quimbé moin!" cries black Fafa, enthusiastically; "fouinq! li -bel!--Jésis-Maïa! li doux!"... Neither ever saw that woman before; and -both feel as if they could watch her forever. - -There is something superb in the port of a tall young mountain-griffone, -or negress, who is comely and knows that she is comely: it is a black -poem of artless dignity, primitive grace, savage exultation of -movement.... "Ou marché tête enlai cornu couresse qui ka passé -lariviè" (_You walk with, your head in the air, like the -couresse-serpent swimming a river_) is a creole comparison which -pictures perfectly the poise of her neck and chin. And in her walk there -is also a serpentine elegance, a sinuous charm: the shoulders do not -swing; the cambered torso seems immobile;--but alternately from waist to -heel, and from heel to waist, with each long full stride, an -indescribable undulation seems to pass; while the folds of her loose -robe oscillate to right and left behind her, in perfect libration, with -the free swaying of the hips. With us, only a finely trained dancer -could attempt such a walk;--with the Martinique woman of color it is -natural as the tint of her skin; and this allurement of motion -unrestrained is most marked in those who have never worn shoes and are -clad lightly as the women of antiquity,--in two very thin and simple -garments;--chemise and _robe-d'indienne_.... But whence is she?--of what -canton? Not from Vauclin, nor from Lamentin, nor from Marigot,--from -Case-Pilote or from Case-Navire: Fafa knows all the people there. Never -of Sainte-Anne, nor of Sainte-Luce, nor of Sainte-Marie, nor of Diamant, -nor of Gros-Morne, nor of Carbet,--the birthplace of Gabou. Neither is -she of the village of the Abysms, which is in the Parish of the -Preacher,--nor yet of Ducos nor of François, which are in the Commune -of the Holy Ghost.... - - - - -V - - -... She approaches the ajoupa: both men remove their big straw hats; and -both salute her with a simultaneous "Bonjou', Manzell." - ---"Bonjou', Missié," she responds, in a sonorous alto, without -appearing to notice Gabou,--but smiling upon Fafa as she passes, with -her great eyes turned full upon his face.... All the libertine blood of -the man flames under that look;--he feels as if momentarily wrapped in a -blaze of black lightning. - ---"Ça ka fai moin pè," exclaims Gabou, turning his face towards the -ajoupa. Something indefinable in the gaze of the stranger has terrified -him. - ---"_Pa ka fai moin pè--fouinq!_" (She does not make me afraid) laughs -Fafa, boldly following her with a smiling swagger. - ---"Fafa!" cries Gabou, in alarm. "_Fafa, pa ça!_" - -But Fafa does not heed. The strange woman has slackened her pace, as if -inviting pursuit;--another moment and he is at her side. - ---"Oti ou ka rété, chè?" he demands, with the boldness of one who -knows himself a fine specimen of his race. - ---"Zaffai cabritt pa zaffai lapin," she answers, mockingly. - ---"Mais pouki ou rhabillé toutt noué conm ça." - ---"Moin pòté deil pou name moin mò." - ---"Ale ya yaïe!... Non, voué!--ça ou kallé atouèlement?" - ---"Lanmou pàti: moin pàti delé lanmou." - ---"Ho!--ou ni guêpe, anh?" - ---"Zanoli bail yon bal; épi maboya rentré ladans." - ---"Di moin oti ou kallé, doudoux?" - ---"Jouq lariviè Lezà." - ---"Fouinq!--ni plis passé trente kilomett!" - ---"Eh ben?--ess ou 'lè vini épi moin?"[16] - -And as she puts the question she stands still and gazes at him;--her -voice is no longer mocking: it has taken another tone,--a tone soft as -the long golden note of the little brown bird they call the -_siffleur-de-montagne_, the mountain-whistler.... Yet Fafa hesitates. He -hears the clear clang of the plantation bell recalling him to duty;--he -sees far down the road--(_Ouill!_ how fast they have been walking!)--a -white and black speck in the sun: Gabou, uttering through his joined -hollowed hands, as through a horn, the _ouklé_, the rally call. For an -instant he thinks of the overseer's anger,--of the distance,--of the -white road glaring in the dead heat: then he looks again into the black -eyes of the strange woman, and answers: - ---"Oui;--moin ké vini épi ou." - -With a burst of mischievous laughter, in which Fafa joins, she walks -on,--Fafa striding at her side.... And Gabou, far off, watches them -go,--and wonders that, for the first time since ever they worked -together, his comrade failed to answer his _ouklé._ - ---"Coument yo ka crié ou, chè?" asks Fafa, curious to know her name. - ---"Châché nom moin ou-menm, duviné." - -But Fafa never was a good guesser,--never could guess the simplest of -tim-tim. - ---"Ess Cendrine?" - ---"Non, çé pa ça." - ---"Ess Vitaline?" - ---"Non, çé pa ça." - ---"Ess Aza?" - ---"Non, çé pa ça." - ---"Ess Nini?" - ---"Chaché encò." - ---"Ess Tité?" - ---"Ou pa save,--tant pis pou ou!" - ---"Ess Youma?" - ---"Pouki ou 'lè save nom moin?--ça ou ké fai épi y?" - ---"Ess Yaiya?" - ---"Non, çé pa y." - ---"Ess Maiyotte?" - ---"Non! ou pa ké janmain trouvé y!" - ---"Ess Sounoune?--ess Loulouze?" - -She does not answer, but quickens her pace and begins to sing,--not as -the half-breed, but as the African sings,--commencing with a low long -weird intonation that suddenly breaks into fractions of notes -inexpressible, then rising all at once to a liquid purling bird-tone, -and descending as abruptly again to the first deep quavering strain:-- - - -"À tè-- -moin ka dòmi toute longue; -Yon paillasse sé fai moin bien, -Doudoux! - -À tè-- -moin ka dòmi toute longue; -Yon robe biésé sé fai moin bien, -Doudoux! - -À tè-- -moin ka dòmi toute longue; -Dè jolis foulà sé fai moin bien, -Doudoux! - -À tè-- -moin ka dòmi toute longue; -Yon joli madras sé fai moin bien, -Doudoux! - -À tè-- -moin ka dòmi toute longue: -Çé à tè..." - - -... Obliged from the first to lengthen his stride in order to keep up -with her, Fafa has found his utmost powers of walking overtaxed, and has -been left behind. Already his thin attire is saturated with sweat; his -breathing is almost a panting;--yet the black bronze of his companion's -skin shows no moisture; her rhythmic step, her silent respiration, -reveal no effort: she laughs at his desperate straining to remain by her -side. - ---"Marché toujou' deïé moin,--anh, chè?--marché toujou' deïé!"... - -And the involuntary laggard--utterly bewitched by the supple allurement -of her motion, by the black flame of her gaze, by the savage melody of -her chant--wonders more and more who she may be, while she waits for him -with her mocking smile. - -But Gabou--who has been following and watching from afar off, and -sounding his fruitless ouklé betimes--suddenly starts, halts, turns, -and hurries back, fearfully crossing himself at every step. - -He has seen the sign by which She is known.... - - -[Footnote 16:--"Where dost stay, dear?" - ---"Affaire of the goat are not affaire of the rabbit." - ---"But why art thou dressed all in black thus?" - ---"I wear mourning for my dead soul." - ---"_Aïe ya yaïe!_... No, true!... where art thou going now?" - ---"Love is gone: I go after love." - ---"Ho! thou hast a Wasp [lover]--eh?" - ---"The zanoli gives a ball; the maboya enters unasked." - ---"Tell me where thou art going, sweetheart?" - ---"As far as the River of the Lizard." - ---"_Fouinq!_--there are more than thirty kilometres!" - ---"What of that?--do t thou want to come with me?"] - - - - -VI - - -... None ever saw her by night. Her hour is the fulness of the sun's -flood-tide: she comes in the dead hush and white flame of windless -noons,--when colors appear to take a very unearthliness of -intensity,--when even the flash of some colibri, bosomed with living -fire, shooting hither and thither among the grenadilla blossoms, seemeth -a spectral happening because of the great green trance of the land.... - -Mostly she haunts the mountain roads, winding from plantation to -plantation, from hamlet to hamlet,--sometimes dominating huge sweeps of -azure sea, sometimes shadowed by mornes deep-wooded to the sky. But -close to the great towns she sometimes walks: she has been seen at -mid-day upon the highway which overlooks the Cemetery of the Anchorage, -behind the cathedral of St. Pierre.... A black Woman, simply clad, of -lofty stature and strange beauty, silently standing in the light, -_keeping her eyes fixed upon the Sun!_... - - - - -VII - - -Day wanes. The further western altitudes shift their pearline gray to -deep blue where the sky is yellowing up behind them; and in the -darkening hollows of nearer mornes strange shadows gather with the -changing of the light--dead indigoes, fuliginous purples, rubifications -as of scoriæ,--ancient volcanic colors momentarily resurrected by the -illusive haze of evening. And the fallow of the canes takes a faint warm -ruddy tinge. On certain far high slopes, as the sun lowers, they look -like thin golden hairs against the glow,--blond down upon the skin of -the living hills. - -Still the Woman and her follower walk together,--chatting loudly, -laughing, chanting snatches of song betimes. And now the valley is well -behind them;-- they climb the steep road crossing the eastern -peaks,--through woods that seem to stifle under burdening of creepers. -The shadow of the Woman and the shadow of the man,--broadening from -their feet,--lengthening prodigiously,--sometimes, mixing, fill all the -way; sometimes, at a turn, rise up to climb the trees. Huge masses of -frondage, catching the failing light, take strange fiery color;--the -sun's rim almost touches one violet hump in the western procession of -volcanic silhouettes.... - - -Sunset, in the tropics, is vaster than sunrise.... The dawn, upflaming -swiftly from the sea, has no heralding erubescence, no awful -blossoming--as in the North: its fairest hues are fawn-colors, -dove-tints, and yellows,--pale yellows as of old dead gold, in horizon -and flood. But after the mighty heat of day has charged all the blue air -with translucent vapor, colors become strangely changed, magnified, -transcendentalized when the sun falls once more below the verge of -visibility. Nearly an hour before his death, his light begins to turn -tint; and all the horizon yellows to the color of a lemon. Then this hue -deepens, through tones of magnificence unspeakable, into orange; and the -sea becomes lilac. Orange is the light of the world for a little space; -and as the orb sinks, the indigo darkness comes--not descending, but -rising, as if from the ground--all within a few minutes. And during -those brief minutes peaks and mornes, purpling into richest velvety -blackness, appear outlined against passions of fire that rise half-way -to the zenith,--enormous furies of vermilion. - - -... The Woman all at once leaves the main road,--begins to mount a steep -narrow path leading up from it through the woods upon the left. But Fafa -hesitates,--halts a moment to look back. He sees the sun's huge orange -face sink down,--sees the weird procession of the peaks vesture -themselves in blackness funereal,--sees the burning behind them crimson -into awfulness; and a vague fear comes upon him as he looks again up the -darkling path to the left. Whither is she now going? - - ---"Oti ou kallé là?" he cries. - ---"Mais conm ça!--chimin tala plis cou't,--coument?" - -It may be the shortest route, indeed;--but then, the fer-de-lance!... - ---"Ni sèpent ciya,--en pile." - -No: there is not a single one, she avers; she has taken -that path too often not to know: - ---"Pa ni sèpent piess! Moin ni coutime passé là;--pa ni piess!" - -... She leads the way.... Behind them the tremendous glow -deepens;--before them the gloom. Enormous gnarled forms of ceiba, -balata, acoma, stand dimly revealed as they pass; masses of viny -drooping things take, by the failing light, a sanguine tone. For a -little while Fafa can plainly discern the figure of the Woman before -him;--then, as the path zigzags into shadow, he can descry only the -white turban and the white foulard;--and then the boughs meet overhead: -he can see her no more, and calls to her in alarm:-- - ---"Oti ou?--moin pa pè ouè arien!" - -Forked pending ends of creepers trail cold across his face. Huge -fire-flies sparkle by,--like atoms of kindled charcoal thudding, blown -by a wind. - ---"Içitt!--quimbé lanmain-moin!"... - -How cold the hand that guides him!... She walks swiftly, surely, as one -knowing the path by heart. It zigzags once more; and the incandescent -color flames again between the trees;--the high vaulting of foliage -fissures overhead, revealing the first stars. A _cabritt-bois_ begins -its chant. They reach the summit of the morne under the clear sky. - -The wood is below their feet now; the path curves on eastward between a -long swaying of ferns sable in the gloom,--as between a waving of -prodigious black feathers. Through the further purpling, loftier -altitudes dimly loom; and from some viewless depth, a dull vast rushing -sound rises into the night.... Is it the speech of hurrying waters, or -only some tempest of insect voices from those ravines in which the night -begins?... - -Her face is in the darkness as she stands;--Fafa's eyes are turned to -the iron-crimson of the western sky. He still holds her hand, fondles -it,--murmurs something to her in undertones. - ---"Ess ou ainmein moin conm ça?" she asks, almost in a whisper. - -Oh! yes, yes, yes!... more than any living being he loves her!... How -much? Ever so much,--_gouôs conm caze!_... Yet she seems to doubt -him,--repeating her question over and over: - ---"Ess ou ainmein moin?" - -And all the while,--gently, caressingly, imperceptibly,--she draws him a -little nearer to the side of the path, nearer to the black waving of the -ferns, nearer to the great dull rushing sound that rises from beyond -them: - ---"Ess ou ainmein moin?" - ---"Oui, oui!" he responds,--"ou save ça!--oui, chè doudoux, ou save -ça!"... - -And she, suddenly,--turning at once to him and to the last red light, -the goblin horror of her face transformed,--shrieks with a burst of -hideous laughter: - ---"_Atò, bô!_"[17] - -For the fraction of a moment he knows her name:--then, smitten to the -brain with the sight of her, reels, recoils, and, backward falling, -crashes two thousand feet down to his death upon the rocks of a mountain -torrent. - - -[Footnote 17: "Kiss me now!"] - - -[Illustration] - - - - -La VÉRETTE - - -I - - ---St. Pierre, _1887._ - - -One returning from the country to the city in the Carnival season is -lucky to find any comfortable rooms for rent. I have been happy to -secure one even in a rather retired street,--so steep that it is really -dangerous to sneeze while descending it, lest one lose one's balance and -tumble right across the town. It is not a fashionable street, the Rue du -Morne Mirait; but, after all, there is no particularly fashionable -street in this extraordinary city, and the poorer the neighborhood, the -better one's chance to see something of its human nature. - -One consolation is that I have Manm-Robert for a next-door neighbor, who -keeps the best bouts in town (those long thin Martinique cigars of which -a stranger soon becomes fond), and who can relate more queer stories and -legends of old times in the island than anybody else I know of. -Manm-Robert is _yon màchonne lapacotte_, a dealer in such cheap -articles of food as the poor live upon: fruits and tropical vegetables, -manioc-flour, "macadam" (a singular dish of rice stewed with salt -fish--_diri épi coubouyon lamori_), akras, etc.; but her bouts probably -bring her the largest profit--they are all bought up by the békés. -Manm-Robert is also a sort of doctor: whenever any one in the -neighborhood falls sick she is sent for, and always comes, and very -often cures,--as she is skilled in the knowledge and use of medical -herbs, which she gathers herself upon the mornes. But for these services -she never accepts any remuneration: she is a sort of Mother of the poor -in her immediate vicinity. She helps everybody, listens to everybody's -troubles, gives everybody some sort of consolation, trusts everybody, -and sees a great deal of the thankless side of human nature without -seeming to feel any the worse for it. Poor as she must really be, she -appears to have everything that everybody wants; and will lend anything -to her neighbors except a scissors or a broom, which it is thought -bad-luck to lend. And, finally, if anybody is afraid of being bewitched -(_guimboisé_) Manm-Robert can furnish him or her with something that -will keep the bewitchment away.... - - - - -II - -_February 15th._ - - -... Ash-Wednesday. The last masquerade will appear this afternoon, -notwithstanding; for the Carnival lasts in Martinique a day longer than -elsewhere. - -All through the country districts since the first week of January there -have been wild festivities every Sunday--dancing on the public highways -to the pattering of tamtams,--African dancing, too, such as is never -seen in St. Pierre. In the city, however, there has been less merriment -than in previous years;--the natural gaiety of the population has been -visibly affected by the advent of a terrible and unfamiliar visitor to -the island,--_La Vérette_: she came by steamer from Colon. - -... It was in September. Only two cases had been reported when every -neighboring British colony quarantined against Martinique. Then other -West Indian colonies did likewise. Only two cases of small-pox. "But -there may be two thousand in another month," answered the governors and -the consuls to many indignant protests. Among West Indian populations -the malady has a signification unknown in Europe or the United States: -it means an exterminating plague. - -Two months later the little capital of Fort-de-France was swept by the -pestilence as by a wind of death. Then the evil began to spread. It -entered St. Pierre in December, about Christmas time. Last week 173 -cases were reported; and a serious epidemic is almost certain. There -were only 8500 inhabitants in Fort-de-France; there are 28,000 in the -three quarters of St. Pierre proper, not including her suburbs; and -there is no saying what ravages the disease may make here. - - - - -III - - -... Three o'clock, hot and clear.... In the distance there is a heavy -sound of drums, always drawing nearer: _tam!--tam!--tamtamtam!_ The -Grande Rue is lined with expectant multitudes; and its tiny square,--the -Batterie d'Esnotz,--thronged with békés.--_Tam!--tam!--tamtamtam!_... -In our own street the people are beginning to gather at door-ways, and -peer out of windows,--prepared to descend to the main thoroughfare at -the first glimpse of the procession. - ---"_Oti masque-à?_" Where are the maskers? - -It is little Mimi's voice: she is speaking for two besides herself, both -quite as anxious as she to know where the maskers are,--Maurice, her -little fair-haired and blue-eyed brother, three years old; and -Gabrielle, her child-sister, aged four,--two years her junior. - -Every day I have been observing the three, playing in the door-way of -the house across the street. Mimi, with her brilliant white skin, black -hair, and laughing black eyes, is the prettiest,--though all are -unusually pretty children. Were it not for the fact that their mother's -beautiful brown hair is usually covered with a violet foulard, you would -certainly believe them white as any children in the world. Now there are -children whom every one knows to be white, living not very far from -here, but in a much more silent street, and in a rich house full of -servants,--children who resemble these as one fleur-d'amour blossom -resembles another;--there is actually another Mimi (though she is not so -called at home) so like this Mimi that you could not possibly tell one -from the other,--except by their dress. And yet the most unhappy -experience of the Mimi who wears white satin slippers was certainly that -punishment given her for having been once caught playing in the street -with this Mimi, who wears no shoes at all. What mischance could have -brought them thus together?--and the worst of it was they had fallen in -love with each other at first sight!... It was not because the other -Mimi must not talk to nice little colored girls, or that this one may -not play with white children of her own age: it was because there are -cases.... It was not because the other children I speak of are prettier -or sweeter or more intelligent than these now playing before me;--or -because the finest microscopist in the world could or could not detect -any imaginable race difference between those delicate satin skins. It -was only because human nature has little changed since the day that -Hagar knew the hate of Sarah, and the thing was grievous in Abraham's -sight because of his son.... - -... The father of these children loved them very much: he had provided a -home for them,--a house in the Quarter of the Fort, with an allowance of -two hundred francs monthly; and he died in the belief their future was -secured. But relatives fought the will with large means and shrewd -lawyers, and won!... Yzore, the mother, found herself homeless and -penniless, with three children to care for. But she was brave;--she -abandoned the costume of the upper class forever, put on the douilette -and the foulard,--the attire that is a confession of race,--and went to -work. She is still comely, and so white that she seems only to be -masquerading in that violet head-dress and long loose robe.... - ---"_Vini ouè!--vini ouè!_" cry the children to one another,--"come and -see!" The drums are drawing near;--everybody is running to the Grande -Rue.... - - - - -IV - - -_Tam!--tam!--tamtamtam!_ ... The spectacle is interesting from the -Batterie d'Esnotz. High up the Rue Peysette,--up all the precipitous -streets that ascend the mornes,--a far gathering of showy color appears: -the massing of maskers in rose and blue and sulphur-yellow attire.... -Then what a _degringolade_ begins!--what a tumbling, leaping, cascading -of color as the troupes descend. Simultaneously from north and south, -from the Mouillage and the Fort, two immense bands enter the Grande -Rue;--the great dancing societies these,--the _Sans-souci_ and the -_Intrépides._ They are rivals; they are the composers and singers of -those Carnival songs,--cruel satires most often, of which the local -meaning is unintelligible to those unacquainted with the incident -inspiring the improvisation,--of which the words are too often coarse or -obscene,--whose burdens will be caught up and re-echoed through all the -burghs of the island. Vile as may be the motive, the satire, the malice, -these chants are preserved for generations by the singular beauty of the -airs; and the victim of a Carnival song need never hope that his failing -or his wrong will be forgotten: it will be sung of long after he is in -his grave. - -... Ten minutes more, and the entire length of the street is thronged -with a shouting, shrieking, laughing, gesticulating host of maskers. -Thicker and thicker the press becomes;--the drums are silent: all are -waiting for the signal of the general dance. Jests and practical jokes -are being everywhere perpetrated; there is a vast hubbub, made up of -screams, cries, chattering, laughter. Here and there snatches of -Carnival song are being sung:--"_Cambronne, Cambronne_;" or "_Ti -fenm-là doux, li doux, li doux!_"... "Sweeter than sirup the little -woman is";--this burden will be remembered when the rest of the song -passes out of fashion. Brown hands reach out from the crowd of masks, -pulling the beards and patting the faces of white spectators.... "_Main -connaitt! ou, chè!--moin connaitt ou, doudoux! ba moin ti d'mi franc!_" -It is well to refuse the half-franc,--though you do not know what these -maskers might take a notion to do to-day.... Then all the great drums -suddenly boom together; all the bands strike up; the mad medley -kaleidoscopes into some sort of order; and the immense processional -dance begins. Prom the Mouillage to the Fort there is but one continuous -torrent of sound and color: you are dazed by the tossing of peaked caps, -the waving of hands, and twinkling of feet;--and all this passes with a -huge swing,--a regular swaying to right and left.... It will take at -least an hour for all to pass; and it is an hour well worth passing. -Band after band whirls by; the musicians all garbed as women or as monks -in canary-colored habits;--before them the dancers are dancing backward, -with a motion as of skaters; behind them all leap and wave hands as in -pursuit. Most of the bands are playing creole airs,--but that of the -_Sans-souci_ strikes up the melody of the latest French song in -vogue,--_Petits amoureux aux plumes_ ("Little feathered lovers"[18]). -Everybody now seems to know this song by heart; you hear children only -five or six years old singing it: there are pretty lines in it, although -two out of its four stanzas are commonplace enough, and it is certainly -the air rather than the words which accounts for its sudden popularity. - - -[Footnote 18: "Petits amoureux aux plumes, -Enfants d'un brillant séjour -Vous ignorez l'amertume, -Vous parlez souvent d'amour:... -Vous méprisez la dorure, -Les salons, et les bijoux; -Vous chérissez la Nature, -Petits oiseaux, becquetez-vous! - -"Voyez là bas, dans cette église, -Auprès d'un confessional, -Le prêtre, qui veut faire croire à Lise, -Qu'un baiser est un grand mal;-- -Pour prouver à la mignonne -Qu'un baiser bien fait, bien doux, -N'a jamais damné personne -Petits oiseaux, becquetez-vous!" - -[_Translation._] -Little feathered lovers, cooing, -Children of the radiant air, -Sweet your speech,--the speech of wooing; -Ye have ne'er a grief to bear! -Gilded ease and jewelled fashion -Never own a charm for you; -Ye love Nature's truth with passion. -Pretty birdlings, bill and coo! - -See that priest who, Lise confessing, -Wants to make the girl believe -That a kiss without a blessing -Is a fault for which to grieve! -Now to prove, to his vexation, -That no tender kiss and true -Ever caused a soul's damnation, -Pretty birdlings, bill and coo!] - - - - -V - - -... Extraordinary things are happening in the streets through which the -procession passes. Pest-smitten women rise from their beds to costume -themselves,--to mask face already made unrecognizable by the hideous -malady,--and stagger out to join the dancers.... They do this in the Rue -Longchamps, in the Rue St. Jean-de-Dieu, in the Rue Peysette, in the Rue -de Petit Versailles. And in the Rue Ste.-Marthe there are three young -girls sick with the disease, who hear the blowing of the horns and the -pattering of feet and clapping of hands in chorus;--they get up to look -through the slats of their windows on the masquerade,--and the creole -passion of the dance comes upon them. "Ah!" cries one,--"_nou ké -amieusé nou!--c'est zaffai si nou mò!_" [We will have our fill of fun: -what matter if we die after!] And all mask, and join the rout, and dance -down to the Savane, and over the river bridge into the high streets of -the Fort, carrying contagion with them!... No extraordinary example, -this: the ranks of the dancers hold many and many a _verrettier._ - - - - -VI - - -... The costumes are rather disappointing,--though the mummery has some -general characteristics that are not unpicturesque;--for example, the -predominance of crimson and canary-yellow in choice of color, and a -marked predilection for pointed hoods and high-peaked head-dresses. Mock -religious costumes also form a striking element in the general tone of -the display,--Franciscan, Dominion, or Penitent habits,--usually -crimson or yellow, rarely sky-blue. There are no historical costumes, -few eccentricities or monsters: only a few "vampire-bat" head-dresses -abruptly break the effect of the peaked caps and the hoods.... Still -there are some decidedly local ideas in dress which deserve notice,--the -_congo_, the _bébé_ (or _ti-manmaille_), the _ti nègue gouos-sirop_ -("little molasses-negro"); and the _diablesse._ - -The congo is merely the exact reproduction of the dress worn by workers -on the plantations. For the women, a gray calico shirt and coarse -petticoat of percaline; with two coarse handkerchiefs (_mouchoirs -fatas_), one for her neck, and one for the head, over which is worn a -monstrous straw hat;--she walks either barefoot or shod with rude native -sandals, and she carries a hoe. For the man the costume consists of a -gray shirt of rough material, blue canvas pantaloons, a large mouchoir -fatas to tie around his waist, and a _chapeau Bacoué_,--an enormous hat -of Martinique palm-straw. He walks barefooted and carries a cutlass. - -The sight of a troupe of young girls en _bébé_, in baby-dress, is -really pretty. This costume comprises only a loose embroidered chemise, -laoe-edged pantalettes, and a child's cap; the whole being decorated -with bright ribbons of various colors. As the dress is short and leaves -much of the lower limbs exposed, there is ample opportunity for display -of tinted stockings and elegant slippers. - -The "molasses-negro" wears nothing but a cloth around his loins;--his -whole body and face being smeared with an atrocious mixture of soot and -molasses. He is supposed to represent the original African ancestor. - -The _devilesses_ (_diablesses_)are few in number; for it requires a very -tall woman to play deviless. These are robed all in black, with a white -turban and white foulard; they wear black masks. They also carry _boms_ -(large tin cans), which they allow to fall upon the pavement from time -to time; and they walk barefoot.... The deviless (in true Bitaco idiom, -"_guiablesse_") represents a singular Martinique superstition. It is -said that sometimes at noonday a beautiful negress passes silently -through some isolated plantation,--smiling at the workers in the -cane-fields,--tempting men to follow her. But he who follows her never -comes back again; and when a field hand mysteriously disappears, his -fellows say, "_Y té ka ouè la Guiablesse!_"... The tallest among the -devilesses always walks first, chanting the question, "_Jou ouvè?_" (Is -it yet daybreak?) And all the others reply in chorus, "_Jou pa'ncò -ouvè._" (It is not yet day.) - ---The masks worn by the multitude include very few grotesques: as a -rule, they are simply white wire masks, having the form of an oval and -regular human face;--and they disguise the wearer absolutely, although -they can be seen through perfectly well from within. It struck me at -once that this peculiar type of wire mask gave an indescribable tone of -ghostliness to the whole exhibition. It is not in the least comical; it -is neither comely nor ugly; it is colorless as mist,--expressionless, -void, dead;--it lies on the face like a vapor, like a cloud,--creating -the idea of a spectral vacuity behind it.... - - - - -VII - - -... Now comes the band of the _Intrépides_, playing the _bouèné._ It -is a dance melody,--also the name of a mode of dancing, peculiar and -unrestrained;--the dancers advance and retreat face to face; they hug -each other, press together, and separate to embrace again. A very old -dance, this,--of African origin; perhaps the same of which Père Labat -wrote in 1722:-- - ---"It is not modest. Nevertheless, it has not failed to become so -popular with the Spanish Creoles of America, and so much in vogue among -them, that it now forms the chief of their amusements, and that it -enters even into their devotions. They dance it even in their Churches, -and in their Processions; and the Nuns seldom fail to dance it Christmas -Night, upon a stage erected in their Choir and immediately in front of -their iron grating, which is left open, so that the People may share in -the joy manifested by these good souls for the birth of the -Saviour."[19]... - - -[Footnote 19: ... "Cette danse est opposée à la pudeur. Avec tout -cela, elle ne laisse pas d'être tellement du goût des Espagnols -Créolles de l'Amérique, & si fort en usage parmi eux, qu'elle fait la -meilleure partie de leurs divertissements, & qu'elle entre même dans -leurs devotions. Ils la dansent même dans leurs Églises & à leurs -processions; et les Religieuses ne manquent guère de la danser la Nuit -de Noël, sur un théâtre élevé dans leur Chœur, vis-à-vis de leur -grille, qui est ouverte, afin que le Peuple ait sa part dans la joye que -ces bonnes âmes témoignent pour la naissance du Sauveur."] - - - - -VIII - - -... Every year, on the last day of the Carnival, a droll ceremony used -to take place called the "Burial of the Bois-bois,"--the bois-bois being -a dummy, a guy, caricaturing the most unpopular thing in city life or in -politics. This bois-bois, after having been paraded with mock solemnity -through all the ways of St. Pierre, was either interred or -"drowned,"--flung into the sea.... And yesterday the dancing societies -had announced their intention to bury a _bois-bois laverette_,--a -manikin that was to represent the plague. But this bois-bois does not -make its appearance. _La Vérette_ is too terrible a visitor to be made -fun of, my friends;--you will not laugh at her, because you dare not.... - -No: there is one who has the courage,--a yellow goblin crying from -behind his wire mask, in imitation of the màchannes: "_Ça qui 'lè -quatòze graines laverette pou yon sou?_" (Who wants to buy fourteen -verette-spots for a sou?) - -Not a single laugh follows that jest.... And just one week from to-day, -poor mocking goblin, you will have a great many more than quatorze -graines, which will not cost you even a sou, and which will disguise you -infinitely better than the mask you now wear;--and they will pour -quick-lime over you, ere ever they let you pass through this street -again--in a seven franc coffin!... - - - - -IX - - -And the multicolored clamoring stream rushes by,--swerves off at last -through the Rue des Ursulines to the Savane,--rolls over the new bridge -of the Roxelane to the ancient quarter of the Fort. - -All of a sudden there is a hush, a halt;--the drums stop beating, the -songs cease. Then I see a sudden scattering of goblins and demons and -devilesses in all directions: they run into houses, up alleys,--hide -behind door-ways. And the crowd parts; and straight through it, walking -very quickly, conies a priest in his vestments, preceded by an acolyte -who rings a little bell. _C'est Bon-Dié ka passé!_ ("It is the -Good-God who goes by!") The father is bearing the "viaticum" to some -victim of the pestilence: one must not appear masked as a devil or a -deviless in the presence of the Bon-Dié. - -He goes by. The flood of maskers recloses behind the ominous -passage;--the drums boom again; the dance recommences; and all the -fantastic mummery ebbs swiftly out of sight. - - - - -X - - -Night falls;--the maskers crowd to the ball-rooms to dance strange -tropical measures that will become wilder and wilder as the hours pass. -And through the black streets, the Devil makes his last Carnival-round. - -By the gleam of the old-fashioned oil lamps hung across the -thoroughfares I can make out a few details of his costume. He is clad in -red, wears a hideous blood-colored mask, and a cap of which the four -sides are formed by four looking-glasses;--the whole head-dress being -surmounted by a red lantern. He has a white wig made of horse-hair, to -make him look weird and old,--since the Devil is older than the world! -Down the street he comes, leaping nearly his own height,--chanting words -without human signification,--and followed by some three hundred boys, -who form the chorus to his chant--all clapping hands together and giving -tongue with a simultaneity that testifies how strongly the sense of -rhythm enters into the natural musical feeling of the African,--a -feeling powerful enough to impose itself upon, all Spanish-America, and -there create the unmistakable characteristics of all that is called -"creole music." - ---"Bimbolo!" - ---"Zimabolo!" - ---"Bimbolo!" - ---"Zimabolo!" - ---"Et zimbolo!" - ---"Et bolo-po!" - ---sing the Devil and his chorus. His chant is cavernous, abysmal,--booms -from his chest like the sound of a drum beaten in the bottom of a -well.... _Ti maillelà, baill moin lavoix!_ ("Give me voice, little -folk,--give me voice!") And all chant after him, in a chanting like the -rushing of many waters, and with triple clapping of hands:--"_Ti -marmaille-là, baill moin lavoix!_"... Then he halts before a dwelling -in the Rue Peysette, and thunders:-- - ---"_Eh! Marie-sans-dent!--mi! diabe-là derhò!_" - -That is evidently a piece of spite-work: there is somebody living there -against whom he has a grudge.... "Hey! Marie-without-teeth! look! the -Devil is outside!" And the chorus catch the clue. - -DEVIL.--"_Eh! Marie-sans-dent!_"... - -CHORUS.--"_Marie-sans-dent! mi!--diabe-là derhò!_" - -D.--"_Eh! Marie-sans-dent!_"... - -C.--"_Marie-sans-dent! mi!--diabe-là derhò!_" - -D.--"_Eh! Marie-sans-dent!_"... etc. - -The Devil at last descends to the main street, always singing the same -song;--I follow the chorus to the Savanna, where the rout makes for the -new bridge over the Roxelane, to mount the high streets of the old -quarter of the Fort; and the chant changes as they cross over:— - -DEVIL.--"_Oti ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?_" (Where did you see the -Devil going over the river?) And all the boys repeat the words, falling -into another rhythm with perfect regularity and ease:--"_Oti ouè -diabe-là passé lariviè?_" - -DEVIL.--"_Oti ouè diabe?_"... - -CHORUS.--"_Oti ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?_" - -D.--"_Oti ouè diabe?_" - -C.--"_Oti ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?_" - -D.--"_Oti ouè diabe?_"... etc. - - -About midnight the return of the Devil and his following arouses me from -sleep:--all are chanting a new refrain, "The Devil and the zombis sleep -anywhere and everywhere!" (_Diabe épi zombi ka dòmi tout-pàtout._) -The voices of the boys are still clear, shrill, fresh,--clear as a chant -of frogs;--they still clap hands with a precision of rhythm that is -simply wonderful,--making each time a sound almost exactly like the -bursting of a heavy wave:-- - -DEVIL.--"_Diabe épi zombi._"... - -CHORUS.--"_Diabe épi zombi ka dàmi tout-pàtout!_" - -D.--"_Diabe épi zombi._"... - -C.--"_Diabe épi zombi ka dòmi tout-pàtout!_" - -D.--"_Diabe épi zombi._"... etc. - -... What is this after all but the old African method of chanting at -labor. The practice of carrying the burden upon the head left the hands -free for the rhythmic accompaniment of clapping. And you may still hear -the women who load the transatlantic steamers with coal at -Fort-de-France thus chanting and clapping.... - -Evidently the Devil is moving very fast; for all the boys are -running;--the pattering of bare feet upon the pavement sounds like a -heavy shower.... Then the chanting grows fainter in distance; the -Devil's immense basso becomes inaudible;--one only distinguishes at -regular intervals the crescendo of the burden,--a wild swelling of many -hundred boy-voices all rising together,--a retreating storm of rhythmic -song, wafted to the ear in gusts, in rafales of contralto.... - - - - -XI - -_February 17th._ - - -... Yzore is a _calendeuse._ - -The calendeuses are the women who make up the beautiful Madras turbans -and color them; for the amazingly brilliant yellow of these head-dresses -is not the result of any dyeing process: they are all painted by hand. -When purchased the Madras is simply a great oblong handkerchief, having -a pale green or pale pink ground, and checkered or plaided by -intersecting bands of dark blue, purple, crimson, or maroon. The -calendeuse lays the Madras upon a broad board placed across her -knees,--then, taking a camel's-hair brush, she begins to fill in the -spaces between the bands with a sulphur-yellow paint, which is always -mixed with gum-arabic. It requires a sure eye, very steady fingers, and -long experience to do this well.... After the Madras has been -"calendered" (_calendé_) and has become quite stiff and dry, it is -folded about the head of the purchaser after the comely Martinique -fashion,--which varies considerably from the modes popular in Guadeloupe -or Cayenne,--is fixed into the form thus obtained; and can thereafter be -taken off or put on without arrangement or disarrangement, like a cap. -The price for calendering a Madras is now two francs and fifteen -sous;--and for making-up the turban, six sous additional, except in -Carnival-time, or upon holiday occasions, when the price rises to -twenty-five sous.... The making-up of the Madras into a turban is -called "tying a head" (_marré yon tête_); and a prettily folded turban -is spoken of as "a head well tied" (_yon tête bien marré_).... -However, the profession of calendeuse is far from being a lucrative one: -it is two or three days' work to calendar a single Madras well... - -But Yzore does not depend upon calendering alone for a living: she earns -much more by the manufacture of moresques and of chinoises than by -painting Madras turbans.... Everybody in Martinique who can afford it -wears moresques and chinoises. The moresques are large loose comfortable -pantaloons of thin printed calico (_indienne_),--having colored designs -representing birds, frogs, leaves, lizards, flowers, butterflies, or -kittens,--or perhaps representing nothing in particular, being simply -arabesques. The chinoise is a loose body-garment, very much like the -real Chinese blouse, but always of brightly colored calico with -fantastic designs. These things are worn at home during siestas, after -office-hours, and at night. To take a nap during the day with one's -ordinary clothing on means always a terrible drenching from -perspiration, and an after-feeling of exhaustion almost -indescribable--best expressed, perhaps, by the local term: _corps -écrasé._ Therefore, on entering one's room for the siesta, one strips, -puts on the light moresques and the chinoise, and dozes in comfort. A -suit of this sort is very neat, often quite pretty, and very cheap -(costing only about six francs);--the colors do not fade out in washing, -and two good suits will last a year.... Yzore can make two pair of -moresques and two chinoises in a single day upon her machine. - -... I have observed there is a prejudice here against treadle -machines;--the creole girls are persuaded they injure the health. Most -of the sewing-machines I have seen among this people are operated by -hand,--with a sort of little crank.... - - - - -XII - -_February 22d._ - - -... Old physicians indeed predicted it; but who believed them?... - -It is as though something sluggish and viewless, dormant and deadly, had -been suddenly upstirred to furious life by the wind of robes and tread -of myriad dancing feet,--by the crash of cymbals and heavy vibration of -drums! Within a few days there has been a frightful increase of the -visitation, an almost incredible expansion of the invisible poison: the -number of new cases and of deaths has successively doubled, tripled, -quadrupled.... - -... Great caldrons of tar are kindled now at night in the more thickly -peopled streets,--about one hundred paces apart, each being tended by an -Indian laborer in the pay of the city: this is done with the idea of -purifying the air. These sinister fires are never lighted but in times -of pestilence and of tempest: on hurricane nights, when enormous waves -roll in from the fathomless sea upon one of the most fearful coasts in -the world, and great vessels are being driven ashore, such is the -illumination by which the brave men of the coast make desperate efforts -to save the lives of shipwrecked men, often at the cost of their -own.[20] - - -[Footnote 20: During a hurricane, several years ago, a West Indian -steamer was disabled at a dangerously brief distance from the coast of -the island by having her propeller fouled. Some broken and drifting -rigging had become wrapped around it. One of the crew, a Martinique -mulatto, tied a rope about his waist, took his knife between his teeth, -dived overboard, and in that tremendous sea performed the difficult feat -of disengaging the propeller, and thus saving the steamer from otherwise -certain destruction.... This brave fellow received the Cross of the -Legion of Honor....] - - - - -XIII - -_February 23d._ - - -A coffin passes, balanced on the heads of black men. It bolds the body -of Pascaline Z----, covered with quick-lime. - -She was the prettiest, assuredly, among the pretty shop-girls of the -Grande Rue,--a rare type of _sang-mêlée._ So oddly pleasing, the young -face, that once seen, you could never again dissociate the recollection -of it from the memory of the street. But one who saw it last night -before they poured quick-lime upon it could discern no features,--only -a dark brown mass, like a fungus, too frightful to think about. - -... And they are all going thus, the beautiful women of color. In the -opinion of physicians, the whole generation is doomed.... Yet a curious -fact is that the young children of octoroons are suffering least: these -women have their children vaccinated,--though they will not be -vaccinated themselves. I see many brightly colored children, too, -recovering from the disorder: the skin is not pitted, like that of the -darker classes; and the rose-colored patches finally disappear -altogether, leaving no trace. - -... Here the sick are wrapped in banana leaves, after having been -smeared with a certain unguent.... - - -[Illustration: FORT-DE-FRANCE -_The city from the heights of Le Calvaire, behind -the town._] - - -There is an immense demand for banana leaves. In ordinary times these -leaves--especially the younger ones, still unrolled, and tender and soft -beyond any fabric possible for man to make--are used for poultices of -all kinds, and sell from one to two sous each, according to size and -quality. - - - - -XIV - -_February 29th._ - - -... The whites remain exempt from the malady. - -One might therefore hastily suppose that liability to contagion would be -diminished in proportion to the excess of white blood over African; but -such is far from being the case;--St. Pierre is losing its handsomest -octoroons. Where the proportion of white to black blood is 116 to 8, as -in the type called _mamelouc_;--or 122 to 4, as in the _quarteronné_ -(not to be confounded with the quarteron or quadroon);--or even 127 to -1, as in the _sang-mêlé_, the liability to attack remains the same, -while the chances of recovery are considerably less than in the case of -the black. Some few striking instances of immunity appear to offer a -different basis for argument; but these might be due to the social -position of the individual rather than to any constitutional temper: -wealth and comfort, it must be remembered, have no small prophylactic -value in such times. Still,--although there is reason to doubt whether -mixed races have a constitutional vigor comparable to that of the -original parent-races,--the liability to diseases of this class is -decided less, perhaps, by race characteristics than by ancestral -experience. The white peoples of the world have been practically -inoculated, vaccinated, by experience of centuries;--while among these -visibly mixed or black populations the seeds of the pest find absolutely -fresh soil in which to germinate, and its ravages are therefore scarcely -less terrible than those it made among the American-Indian or the -Polynesian races in other times. Moreover, there is an unfortunate -prejudice against vaccination here. People even now declare that those -vaccinated die just as speedily of the plague as those who have never -been;--and they can cite cases in proof. It is useless to talk to them -about averages of immunity, percentage of liability, etc.;--they have -seen with their own eyes persons who had been well vaccinated die of the -verette, and that is enough to destroy their faith in the system... Even -the priests, who pray their congregations to adopt the only known -safeguard against the disease, can do little against this scepticism. - - - - -XV - -_March 5th._ - - -... The streets are so narrow in this old-fashioned quarter that even a -whisper is audible across them; and after dark I hear a great many -things,--sometimes sounds of pain, sobbing, despairing cries as Death -makes his nightly round,--sometimes, again, angry words, and laughter, -and even song,--always one melancholy chant: the voice has that peculiar -metallic timbre that reveals the young negress:-- - - -"_Paw' ti Lélé, -Paw' ti Lélé! -Li gagnin doulè, doulè, doulè,-- -Li gagnin doulè -Tout-pàtout!_" - - -I want to know who little Lélé was, and why she had pains "all -over";--for however artless and childish these creole songs seem, they -are invariably originated by some real incident. And at last somebody -tells me that "poor little Lélé" had the reputation in other years of -being the most unlucky girl in St. Pierre; whatever she tried to do -resulted only in misfortune;--when it was morning she wished it were -evening, that she might sleep and forget; but when the night came she -could not sleep for thinking of the trouble she had had during the day, -so that she wished it were morning.... - -More pleasant it is to hear the chatting of Yzore's children across the -way, after the sun has set, and the stars come out.... Gabrielle always -wants to know what the stars are:-- - ---"_Ça qui ka clairé conm, ça, manman?_" (What is it that shines like -that?) - -And Yzore answers:-- - ---"_Ça, mafi,--c'est ti limiè Bon-Dié._" (Those are the little lights -of the Good-God.) - ---"It is so pretty,--eh, mamma? I want to count them." - ---"You cannot count them, child." - ---"One--two--three--four--five--six--seven." Gabrielle can only count up -to seven. "_Moin pride!_--I am lost, mamma!" - -The moon comes up;--she cries:--"_Mi! manman!--gàdé gouôs difé qui -adans ciel-à!_" (Look at the great fire in the sky!) - ---"It is the Moon, child!... Don't you see St. Joseph in it, carrying a -bundle of wood?" - ---"Yes, mamma! I see him!... A great big bundle of wood!"... - -But Mimi is wiser in moon-lore: she borrows half a franc from her mother -"to show to the Moon." And holding it up before the silver light, she -sings:-- - ---"Pretty Moon, I show you my little money;--now let me always have -money so long as you shiner!"[21] - -Then the mother takes them up to bed;--and in a little while there -floats to me, through the open window, the murmur of the children's -evening prayer:-- - - -"Ange-gardien, -Veillez sur moi." -* * * * -"Ayez pitié de ma faiblesse; -Couchez-vous sur mon petit lit; -Suivez-moi sans cesse."[22]... - - -I can only catch a line here and there.... They do not sleep -immediately;--they continue to chat in bed. Gabrielle wants to know -what a guardian-angel is like. And I hear Mimi's voice replying in -creole:-- - ---"_Zange-gàdien, c'est yon jeine fi, touts bel._" (The guardian-angel -is a young girl, all beautiful.) - -A little while, and there is silence; and I see Yzore come out, -barefooted, upon the moonlit balcony of her little room,--looking up and -down the hushed street, looking at the sea, looking up betimes at the -high flickering of stars,--moving her lips as in prayer.... And, -standing there white-robed, with her rich dark hair loose-falling, there -is a weird grace about her that recalls those long slim figures of -guardian-angels in French religious prints.... - - -[Footnote 21: "_Bel ladine, moin ka montré ou ti pièce moin!--ba moin -làgent toutt tempe ou ka clairé!_"... This little invocation is -supposed to have most power when ottered on the first appearance of the -new moon.] - -[Footnote 22: "Guardian-angel, watch over me;--have pity upon my -weakness; lie down on my little bed with me; follow me whithersoever I -go."... The prayers are always said in French. Metaphysical and -theological terms cannot be rendered in the patois; and the authors of -creole catechisms have always been obliged to borrow and explain French -religious phrases in order to make their texts comprehensible.] - - - - - -XVI - -_March 6th._ - - -This morning Manm-Robert brings me something queer,--something hard tied -up in a tiny piece of black cloth, with a string attached to hang it -round my neck. I must wear it, she says. - ---"_Ça ça yè, Manm-Robert?_" - ---"_Pou empêché ou pouend laverette_" she answers. It is to keep me -from catching the verette!... And what is inside it? - ---"_Toua graines maïs, épi dicamfre._" (Three grains of corn, with a -bit of camphor!)... - - - - -XVII - -_March 8th._ - - -... Rich households throughout the city are almost helpless for the want -of servants. One can scarcely obtain help at any price: it is true that -young country-girls keep coming into town to fill the places of the -dead; but these new-comers fall a prey to the disease much more readily -than those who preceded them. And such deaths often represent more than -a mere derangement in the mechanism of domestic life. The creole bonne -bears a relation to the family of an absolutely peculiar sort,--a -relation of which the term "house-servant" does not convey the faintest -idea. She is really a member of the household: her association with its -life usually begins in childhood, when she is barely strong enough to -carry a dobanne of water up-stairs;--and in many cases she has the -additional claim of having been born in the house. As a child, she plays -with the white children,--shares their pleasures and presents. She is -very seldom harshly spoken to, or reminded of the fact that she is a -servitor: she has a pet name;--she is allowed much familiarity,--is -often permitted to join in conversation when there is no company -present, and to express her opinion about domestic affairs. She costs -very little to keep; four or five dollars a year will supply her with -all necessary clothing;--she rarely wears shoes;--she sleeps on a little -straw mattress (_paillasse_) on the floor, or perhaps upon a paillasse -supported upon an "elephant" (_léfan_)--two thick square pieces of hard -mattress placed together so as to form an oblong. She is only a nominal -expense to the family; and she is the confidential messenger, the nurse, -the chamber-maid, the water-carrier,--everything, in short, except cook -and washer-woman. Families possessing a really good bonne would not part -with her on any consideration. If she has been brought up in the -household, she is regarded almost as a kind of adopted child. If she -leave that household to make a home of her own, and have ill-fortune -afterwards, she will not be afraid to return with her baby, which will -perhaps be received and brought up as she herself was, under the old -roof. The stranger may feel puzzled at first by this state of affairs; -yet the cause is not obscure. It is traceable to the time of the -formation of creole society--to the early period of slavery. Among the -Latin races,--especially the French,--slavery preserved in modern times -many of the least harsh features of slavery in the antique -world,--where the domestic slave, entering the _famillia_, actually -became a member of it. - - - - -XVIII - -_March 10th._ - - -... Yzore and her little ones are all in Manm-Robert's shop;--she is -recounting her troubles,--fresh troubles: forty-seven francs' worth of -work delivered on time, and no money received.... So much I hear as I -enter the little boutique myself, to buy a package of "bouts." - ---"_Assise!_" says Manm-Robert, handing me her own chair;--she is always -pleased to see me, pleased to chat with me about creole folk-lore. Then -observing a smile exchanged between myself and Mimi, she tells the -children to bid me good-day:--"_Allé di bonjou' Missié-à!_" - -One after another, each holds up a velvety cheek to kiss. And Mimi, who -has been asking her mother the same question over and over again for at -least five minutes without being able to obtain an answer, ventures to -demand of me on the strength of this introduction:-- - ---"_Missié, oti masque-à?_" - ---"_Y ben fou, pouloss!_" the mother cries out;--"Why, the child must -be going out of her senses!... _Mimi pa 'mbêté moune conm ça!--pa ni -piess masque: c'est la-vérette qui ni._" (Don't annoy people like -that!--there are no maskers now; there is nothing but the verette!) - - -[You are not annoying me at all, little Mimi; but I would not like to -answer your question truthfully. I know where the maskers are,--most of -them, child; and I do not think it would be well for you to know. They -wear no masks now; but if you were to see them for even one moment, by -some extraordinary accident, pretty Mimi, I think you would feel more -frightened than you ever felt before.]... - ---"_Toutt la nuite y k'anni rêvé masque-à_," continues Yzore.... I am -curious to know what Mimi's dreams are like;--wonder if I can coax her -to tell me.... - - - - -XIX - - -... I have written Mimi's last dream from the child's dictation:--[23] - ---"I saw a ball," she says. "I was dreaming: I saw everybody dancing -with masks on;--I was looking at them. And all at once I saw that the -folks who were dancing were all made of pasteboard. And I saw a -commandeur: he asked me what I was doing there. I answered him: 'Why, I -saw a ball, and I came to look--what of it?' He answered me:--'Since you -are so curious to come and look at other folks' business, you will have -to stop here and dance too!' I said to him:--'No! I won't dance with -people made of pasteboard;--I am afraid of them!'... And I ran and ran -and ran,--I was so much afraid. And I ran into a big garden, where I saw -a big cherry-tree that had only leaves upon it; and I saw a man sitting -under the cherry-tree. He asked me:--'What are you doing here?' I said -to him:--'I am trying to find my way out.' He said:--'You must stay -here.' I said:--'No, no!'--and I said, in order to be able to get -away:--'Go up there!--you will see a fine ball: all pasteboard people -dancing there, and a pasteboard commandeur commanding them!'... And then -I got so frightened that I awoke."... - -... "And why were you so afraid of them, Mimi?" I ask. - ---"_Pace yo té toutt vide endedans!_" answers Mimi. (_Because they were -all hollow inside!_) - - - -[Footnote 23:--"Moin té ouè yon bal;--moin rêvé: moin té ka ouè toutt -moune ka dansé masqué; moin té ka gàdé. Et toutt-à-coup moin ka ouè c'est -bonhomme-càton ka dansé. Et main ka ouè yon Commandè: y ka mandé moin -ça moin ka fai là. Moin reponne y conm ça:--'Moin ouè yon bal, moin -gàdé-coument!' Y ka réponne moin:--'Pisse ou si quirièse pou vini gàdé -baggaïe moune, faut rété là pou dansé 'tou.' Moin réponne y:--'Non! moin -pa dansé épi bonhomme-càton!--moin pè!'... Et moin ka couri, moin ka -couri, main ka couri à fòce moin te ni pè. Et moin rentré adans grand -jàdin; et moin ouè gouôs pié-cirise qui té chàgé anni feuill; et moin ka -ouè yon nhomme assise enba cirise-à. Y mandé moin:--'Ça ou ka fai là?' -Moin di y:--'Moin ka châché chimin pou moin allé.' Y di moin:--'Faut -rété içitt.' Et moin di y:--'Non!'--et pou chappé cò moin, moin di -y:--'Allé enhaut-là: ou ké ouè yon bel bal,--toutt bonhomme-càton ka -dansé, épi yon Commande-en-càton ka coumandé yo.'... Epi moin levé, à -fòce moin té pè."...] - - - - -XX - -_Mardi 19th._ - - -... The death-rate in St. Pierre is now between three hundred and fifty -and four hundred a month. Our street is being depopulated. Every day men -come with immense stretchers,--covered with a sort of canvas awning,--to -take somebody away to the _lazaretto._ At brief intervals, also, coffins -are carried into houses empty, and carried out again followed by women -who cry so loud that their sobbing can be heard a great way off. - -... Before the visitation few quarters were so densely peopled: there -were living often in one small house as many as fifty. The poorer -classes had been accustomed from birth to live as simply as -animals,--wearing scarcely any clothing, sleeping on bare floors, -exposing themselves to all changes of weather, eating the cheapest and -coarsest food. Yet, though living under such adverse conditions, no -healthier people could be found, perhaps, in the world,--nor a more -cleanly. Every yard having its fountain, almost everybody could bathe -daily,--and with hundreds it was the custom to enter the river every -morning at daybreak or to take a swim in the bay (the young women here -swim as well as the men).... But the pestilence, entering among so dense -and unprotected a life, made extraordinarily rapid havoc; and bodily -cleanliness availed little against the contagion. Now all the bathing -resorts are deserted,--because the lazarettos infect the bay with -refuse, and because the clothing of the sick is washed in the Roxelane. - -... Guadeloupe, the sister colony, now sends aid;--the sum total is less -than a single American merchant might give to a charitable undertaking: -but it is a great deal for Guadeloupe to give. And far Cayenne sends -money too; and the mother-country will send one hundred thousand francs. - - - - -XXI - -_March 20th._ - - -... The infinite goodness of this colored population to one another is -something which impresses with astonishment those accustomed to the -selfishness of the world's great cities. No one is suffered to go to the -pesthouse who has a bed to lie upon, and a single relative or tried -friend to administer remedies;--the multitude who pass through the -lazarettos are strangers,--persons from the country who have no home of -their own, or servants who are not permitted to remain sick in houses of -employers.... There are, however, many cases where a mistress will not -suffer her bonne to take the risks of the pest-house,--especially in -families where there are no children: the domestic is carefully nursed; -a physician hired for her, remedies purchased for her.... - -But among the colored people themselves the heroism displayed is -beautiful, is touching,--something which makes one doubt all accepted -theories about the natural egotism of mankind, and would compel the most -hardened pessimist to conceive a higher idea of humanity. There is never -a moment's hesitation in visiting a stricken individual: every relative, -and even the most intimate friends of every relative, may be seen -hurrying to the bedside. They take turns at nursing, sitting up all -night, securing medical attendance and medicines, without ever a thought -of the danger,--nay, of the almost absolute certainty of contagion. If -the patient have no means, all contribute: what the sister or brother -has not, the uncle or the aunt, the godfather or godmother, the cousin, -brother-in-law, or sister-in-law, may be able to give. No one dreams of -refusing money or linen or wine or anything possible to give, lend, or -procure on credit. Women seem to forget that they are beautiful, that -they are young, that they are loved,--to forget everything but the sense -of that which they hold to be duty. You see young girls of remarkably -elegant presence,--young colored girls well educated and -_élevées-en-chapeau_[24] (that is to say, brought up like white creole -girls, dressed and accomplished like them), voluntarily leave rich homes -to nurse some poor mulatress or capresse in the indigent quarters of the -town, because the sick one happens to be a distant relative. They will -not trust others to perform this for them;--they feel bound to do it in -person. I heard such a one say, in reply to some earnest protest about -thus exposing herself (she had never been vaccinated):--"_Ah! quand il -s'agit du devoir, la vie ou la mort c'est pour moi la même chose._" - -... But without any sanitary law to check this self-immolation, and with -the conviction that in the presence of duty, or what is believed to be -duty, "life or death is the same thing," or ought to be so -considered,--you can readily imagine how soon the city must become one -vast hospital. - - -[Footnote 24: Lit.,--"brought-up-in-a-hat." To wear the madras is to -acknowledge oneself of color;--to follow the European style of dressing -the hair and adopt the costume of the white creoles indicate a desire to -affiliate with the white class.] - - - - -XXII - - -... By nine o'clock, as a general rule, St. Pierre becomes silent: every -one here retires early and rises with the sun. But sometimes, when the -night is exceptionally warm, people continue to sit at their doors and -chat until a far later hour; and on such a night one may hear and see -curious things, in this period of plague.... - -It is certainly singular that while the howling of a dog at night has no -ghastly signification here (nobody ever pays the least attention to the -sound, however hideous), the moaning and screaming of cats is believed -to bode death; and in these times folks never appear to feel too sleepy -to rise at any hour and drive them away when they begin their cries.... -To-night--a night so oppressive that all but the sick are sitting -up--almost a panic is created in our street by a screaming of cats;--and -long after the creatures have been hunted out of sight and hearing, -everybody who has a relative ill with the prevailing malady continues to -discuss the omen with terror. - -... Then I observe a colored child standing barefooted in the moonlight, -with her little round arms uplifted and hands joined above her head. A -more graceful little figure it would be hard to find as she appears thus -posed; but, all unconsciously, she is violating another superstition by -this very attitude; and the angry mother shrieks:-- - ---"_Ti manmaille-là!--tiré lanmain-ou assous tête-ou, foute! pisse -moin encò là!... Espéré moin allé lazarett avant metté lanmain -conm ça!_" (Child, take down your hands from your head... because I am -here yet! Wait till I go to the lazaretto before you put up your hands -like that!) - -For it was the savage, natural, primitive gesture of mourning,--of great -despair. - -... Then all begin to compare their misfortunes, to relate their -miseries;--they say grotesque things,--even make jests about their -troubles. One declares:-- - ---"_Si moin té ka venne chapeau, à fòce moin ni malhè, toutt manman -sé fai yche yo sans tête._" (I have that ill-luck, that if I were -selling hats all the mothers would have children without heads!) - ---Those who sit at their doors, I observe, do not sit, as a rule, upon -the steps, even when these are of wood. There is a superstition which -checks such a practice. "_Si ou assise assous pas-lapòte, ou ké pouend -doulè toutt moune._" (If you sit upon the door-step, you will take the -pain of all who pass by.) - - - - -XXIII - -_March 30th._ - - -Good Friday.... - -The bells have ceased to ring,--even the bells for the dead; the hours -are marked by cannon-shots. The ships in the harbor form crosses with -their spars, turn their flags upside down. And the entire colored -population put on mourning:--it is a custom among them centuries old. - -You will not perceive a single gaudy robe to-day, a single calendered -Madras: not a speck of showy color is visible through all the ways of -St. Pierre. The costumes donned are all similar to those worn for the -death of relatives: either full mourning,--a black robe with violet -foulard, and dark violet-banded headkerchief; or half-mourning,--a dark -violet robe with black foulard and turban;--the half-mourning being worn -only by those who cannot afford the more sombre costume. From my window -I can see long processions climbing the mornes about the city, to visit -the shrines and crucifixes, and to pray for the cessation of the -pestilence. - -... Three o'clock. Three cannon-shots shake the hills: it is the -supposed hour of the Saviour's death. All believers--whether in the -churches, on the highways, or in their homes--bow down and kiss the -cross thrice, or, if there be no cross, press their lips three times to -the ground or the pavement, and utter those three wishes which if -expressed precisely at this traditional moment will surely, it is held, -be fulfilled. Immense crowds are assembled before the crosses on the -heights, and about the statue of Notre Dame de la Garde. - -... There is no hubbub in the streets; there is not even the customary -loud weeping to be heard as the coffins go by. One must not complain -to-day, nor become angry, nor utter unkind words,--any fault committed -on Good Friday is thought to obtain a special and awful magnitude in the -sight of Heaven.... There is a curious saying in vogue here. If a son -or daughter grows up vicious,--become a shame to the family and a curse -to the parents,--it is observed of such:--"_Ça, c'est yon péché -Vendredi-Saint!_" (Must be a _Good-Friday sin!_) - -There are two other strange beliefs connected with Good Friday. One is -that it always rains on that day,--that the sky weeps for the death of -the Saviour; and that this rain, if caught in a vessel, will never -evaporate or spoil, and will cure all diseases. - -The other is that only Jesus Christ died precisely at three o'clock. -Nobody else ever died exactly at that hour;--they may die a second -before or a second after three, but never exactly at three. - - - - -XXIV - -_Mardi 31st._ - - -... Holy Saturday morning;--nine o'clock. All the bells suddenly ring -out; the humming of the bourdon blends with the thunder of a hundred -guns: this is the _Gloria!_... At this signal it is a religious custom -for the whole coast-population to enter the sea, and for those living -too far from the beach to bathe in the rivers. But rivers and sea are -now alike infected;--all the linen of the lazarettos has been washed -therein; and to-day there are fewer bathers than usual. - -But there are twenty-seven burials. Now they are burying the dead two -together: the cemeteries are overburdened.... - - - - -XXV - - -... In most of the old stone houses you will occasionally see spiders of -terrifying size,--measuring across perhaps as much as six inches from -the tip of one outstretched leg to the tip of its opposite fellow, as -they cling to the wall. I never heard of any one being bitten by them; -and among the poor it is deemed unlucky to injure or drive them away.... -But early this morning Yzore swept her house clean, and ejected through -the door-way quite a host of these monster insects. Manm-Robert is quite -dismayed:-- - ---"_Jesis-Maïa!--ou 'lè malhè éncò fou fai ça, chè?_" (You want -to have still more bad luck, that you do such a thing?) - -And Yzore answers:-- - ---"_Toutt moune içitt pa ni yon soul--ça fil zagrignin, et moin pa -menm mangé! Epi laverette encò.... Main couè toutt ça ka pòté -malhè!_" (No one here has a sou!--heaps of cobwebs like that, and -nothing to eat yet; and the verette into the bargain.... I think those -things bring bad luck.) - ---"Ah! you have not eaten yet!" cries Manm-Robert. "_Vini épi moin!_" -(Come with me!) - -And Yzore--already feeling a little remorse for her treatment of the -spiders--murmurs apologetically as she crosses over to Manm-Robert's -little shop:--"_Moin pa tchoué yo; moin chassé yo--ké vini encò._" -(I did not kill them; I only put them out;--they will come back again.) - -But long afterwards, Manm-Robert remarked to me that they never went -back.... - - - - -XXVI - -_April 5th._ - - ---"_Toutt bel bois ka allé_," says Manm-Robert. (All the beautiful -trees are going.)... I do not understand. - ---"_Toutt bel bois--toutt bel moune ka allé_," she adds, -interpretatively. (All the "beautiful trees,"--all the handsome -people,--are passing away.)... As in the speech of the world's primitive -poets, so in the creole patois is a beautiful woman compared with a -comely tree: nay, more than this, the name of the object is actually -substituted for that of the living being. _Yon bel bois_ may mean a fine -tree: it more generally signifies a graceful woman: this is the very -comparison made by Ulysses looking upon Nausicas, though more naïvely -expressed.... And now there comes to me the recollection of a creole -ballad illustrating the use of the phrase,--a ballad about a youth of -Fort-de-France sent to St. Pierre by his father to purchase a stock of -dobannes,[25] who, falling in love with a handsome colored girl, spent -all his father's mopey in buying her presents and a wedding outfit:-- - - -"Moin descenne Saint-Piè -Acheté dobannes -Auliè ces dobannes -C'est yon _bel-bois_ moin mennein monté!" - - -("I went down to Saint-Pierre to buy dobannes: instead of the dobannes, -'tis a pretty tree--a charming girl--that I bring back with me.") - ---"Why, who is dead now, Manm-Robert?" - ---"It is little Marie, the porteuse, who has got the vérette. She is -gone to the lazaretto." - - -[Footnote 25: Red earthen-ware jars for keeping drinking-water cool. The -origin of the word is probably to be sought in the name of the town, -near Marseilles, where they are made,--"Aubagne."] - - - - -XXVII - -_April 7th._ - - ---_Toutt bel bois ka allé_.... News has just come that Ti Marie died -last night at the lazaretto of the Fort: she was attacked by what they -call the _lavérette-pouff_,--a form of the disease which strangles its -victim within a few hours. - -Ti Marie was certainly the neatest little màchanne I ever knew. Without -being actually pretty, her face had a childish charm which made it a -pleasure to look at her;--and she had a clear chocolate-red skin, a -light compact little figure, and a remarkably symmetrical pair of little -feet which had never felt the pressure of a shoe. Every morning I used -to hear her passing cry, just about daybreak:--"_Qui 'lè café?--qui -'lè sirop?_" (Who wants coffee?--who wants syrup?) She looked about -sixteen, but was a mother. "Where is her husband?" I ask. "_Nhomme-y mò -laverette 'tou._" (Her man died of the verette also.) "And the little -one, her _yche? Y lazarett._" (At the lazaretto.)... But only those -without friends or relatives in the city are suffered to go to the -lazaretto;--Ti Marie cannot have been of St. Pierre? - ---"No: she was from Vauclin," answers Manm-Robert. "You do not often see -pretty red girls who are natives of St. Pierre. St. Pierre has pretty -_sang-mêlées._ The pretty red girls mostly come from Vauclin. The -yellow ones, who are really bel-bois, are from Grande Anse: they are -banana-colored people there. At Gros-Morne they are generally black."... - - - - -XXVIII - - -... It appears that the red race here, the race _capresse_, is -particularly liable to the disease. Every family employing capresses for -house-servants loses them;--one family living at the next corner has -lost four in succession.... - -The tint is a cinnamon or chocolate color;--the skin is naturally clear, -smooth, glossy: it is of the capresse especially that the term -"sapota-skin" (_peau-chapoti_) is used,--coupled with all curious creole -adjectives to express what is comely,--_jojoll, beaujoll_,[26] etc. The -hair is long, but bushy; the limbs light and strong, and admirably -shaped.... I am told that when transported to a colder climate, the -capre or capresse partly loses this ruddy tint. Here, under the tropic -sun, it has a beauty only possible to imitate in metal.... And because -photography cannot convey any idea of this singular color, the capresse -hates a photograph.--"_Moin pas noué_," she says;--"_moin ouôuge: ou -fai moin nouè nans pàtrait-à._" (I am not black: I am red:--you make -me black in that portrait.) It is difficult to make her pose before the -camera: she is red, as she avers, beautifully red; but the malicious -instrument makes her gray or black--_noué conm poule-zo-nouè_ ("black -as a blackboned hen!") - -... And this red race is disappearing from St. Pierre--doubtless also -from other plague-striken centres. - - -[Footnote 26: I may cite in this relation one stanza of a creole -song--very popular in St. Pierre--celebrating the charms of a little -capresse:-- - -"Moin toutt jeine, -Goufa, gouàs, vaillant, -Peau di chapoti -Ka fai plaisi;-- -Lapeau moin -Li bien poli; -Et moin ka plai -Mêmn toutt nhomme grave!" - ---Which might be freely rendered thus:-- - -"I am dimpled, young, -Round-limbed, and strong, -With sapota-skin -That is good to see: -All glossy-smooth -Is this skin of mine; -And the gravest men -Like to look to me!"] - - - - -XXIX - -_April 10th._ - - -... Manm-Robert is much annoyed and puzzled because the American -steamer--the _bom-mangé_, as she calls it--does not come. It used to -bring regularly so many barrels of potatoes and beans, so much lard and -cheese and garlic and dried pease--everything, almost of which she keeps -a stock. It is now nearly eight weeks since the cannon of a New York -steamer aroused the echoes of the harbor. Every morning Manm-Robert has -been sending out her little servant Louis to see if there is any sign of -the American packet:--"_Allé ouè Batterie d'Esnotz si bom-mangé-à -pas vini._" But Louis always returns with the same rueful answer:-- - ---"_Manm-Robert, pa ni piess bom-mangé_" (there is not so much as a bit -of a _bom-mangé_). - -... "No more American steamers for Martinique:" that is the news -received by telegraph! The disease has broken out among the shipping; -the harbors have been declared infected. United States mail-packets drop -their Martinique mails at St. Kitt's or Dominica, and pass us by. There -will be suffering now among the canotiers, the caboteurs, all those who -live by stowing or unloading cargo;--great warehouses are being closed -up, and strong men discharged, because there will be nothing for them to -do. - -... They are burying twenty-five _verettiers_ per day in the city. - -But never was this tropic sky more beautiful;--never was this circling -sea more marvellously blue;--never were the mornes more richly robed in -luminous green, under a more golden day.... And it seems strange that -Nature should remain so lovely.... - - -... Suddenly it occurs to me that I have not seen Yzore nor her children -for some days; and I wonder if they have moved away.... Towards evening, -passing by Manm-Robert's, I ask about them. The old woman answers me -very gravely:-- - ---"_Aid, mon chè, c'est Yzore qui ni lavérette!_" - -The mother has been seized by the plague at last. But Manm-Robert will -look after her; and Manm-Robert has taken charge of the three little -ones, who are not now allowed to leave the house, for fear some one -should tell them what it were best they should not know.... _Pauv ti -manmaille!_ - - - - -XXX - -_April 13th._ - - -... Still the vérette does not attack the native whites. But the whole -air has become poisoned; the sanitary condition of the city becomes -unprecedentedly bad; and a new epidemic makes its appearance,--typhoid -fever. And now the békés begin to go, especially the young and strong; -and bells keep sounding for them, and the tolling bourdon fills the city -with its enormous hum all day and far into the night. For these are -rich; and the high solemnities of burial are theirs--the coffin of -acajou, and the triple ringing, and the Cross of Gold to be carried -before them as they pass to their long sleep under the palms,--saluted -for the last time by all the population of St. Pierre, standing -bareheaded in the sun.... - -... Is it in times like these, when all the conditions are febrile, that -one is most apt to have queer dreams? - -Last night it seemed to me that I saw that Carnival dance again,--the -hooded musicians, the fantastic torrent of peaked caps, and the spectral -masks, and the swaying of bodies and waving of arms,--but soundless as a -passing of smoke. There were figures I thought I knew;--hands I had -somewhere seen reached out and touched me in silence;--and then, all -suddenly, a Viewless Something seemed to scatter the shapes as leaves -are blown by a wind.... And waking, I thought I heard again,--plainly as -on that last Carnival afternoon,--the strange cry of fear:--"_C'est -Bon-Dié ka passé!_"... - - - - -XXXI - -_April 20th._ - - -... Very early yesterday morning Yzore was carried away under a covering -of quick-lime: the children do not know; Manm-Robert took heed they -should not see. They have been told their mother has been taken to the -country to get well,--that the doctor will bring her back soon.... All -the furniture is to be sold at auction to pay the debts;--the landlord -was patient, he waited four months; the doctor was kindly: but now these -must have their due. Everything will be bidden off, except the chapelle, -with its Virgin and angels of porcelain: _yo pa ka pè venne Bon-Dié_ -(the things of the Good-God must not be sold). And Manm-Robert will take -care of the little ones. - -The bed--a relic of former good-fortune,--a great Martinique bed of -carved heavy native wood,--_a lit-à-bateau_ (boat-bed), so called -because shaped almost like a barge, perhaps--will surely bring three -hundred francs;--the armoire, with its mirror doors, not less than two -hundred and fifty. There is little else of value: the whole will not -fetch enough to pay all the dead owes. - - - - -XXXII - -_April 28th._ - - ---_Tam-tam-tam!--tam-tam-tam!_... It is the booming of the auction-drum -from the Place: Yzore's furniture is about to change hands. - -The children start at the sound, so vividly associated in their minds -with the sights of Carnival days, with the fantastic mirth of the great -processional dance: they run to the sunny street, calling to each -other,--_Vini ouè!_--they look up and down. But there is a great quiet -in the Rue du Morne Mirail;--the street is empty. - -... Manm-Robert enters very weary: she has been at the sale, trying to -save something for the children, but the prices were too high. In -silence she takes her accustomed seat at the worn counter of her little -shop; the young ones gather about her, caress her;--Mimi looks up -laughing into the kind brown face, and wonders why Manm-Robert will not -smile. Then Mimi becomes afraid to ask where the maskers are,--why they -do not come. But little Maurice, bolder and less sensitive, cries out:-- - ---"_Manm-Robert, oti masque-à?_" - - -Manm-Robert does not answer;--she does not hear. She is gazing directly -into the young faces clustered about her knee,--yet she does not see -them: she sees far, far beyond them,--into the hidden years. And, -suddenly, with a savage tenderness in her voice, she utters all the dark -thought of her heart for them:-- - ---"_Toua ti blancs sans lesou!--quitté main châché papa-ou qui adans -cimétiè pou vint pouend ou tou!_" (Ye three little penniless white -ones!--let me go call your father, who is in the cemetery, to come and -take you also away!) - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LES BLANCHISSEUSES - - -I - - -Whoever stops for a few months in St. Pierre is certain, sooner or -later, to pass an idle half-hour in that charming place of Martinique -idlers,--the beautiful Savane du Fort,--and, once there, is equally -certain to lean a little while over the mossy parapet of the river-wall -to watch the _blanchisseuses_ at work. It has a curious interest, this -spectacle of primitive toil: the deep channel of the Roxelane winding -under the palm-crowned heights of the Fort; the blinding whiteness of -linen laid out to bleach for miles upon the huge bowlders of porphyry -and prismatic basalt; and the dark bronze-limbed women, with faces -hidden under immense straw hats, and knees in the rushing torrent,--all -form a scene that makes one think of the earliest civilizations. Even -here, in this modern colony, it is nearly three centuries old; and it -will probably continue thus at the Rivière des Blanchisseuses for fully -another three hundred years. Quaint as certain weird Breton legends -whereof it reminds you,--especially if you watch it before daybreak -while the city sleeps,--this fashion of washing is not likely to change. -There is a local prejudice against new methods, new inventions, new -ideas;--several efforts at introducing a less savage style of washing -proved unsuccessful; and an attempt to establish a steam-laundry -resulted in failure. The public were quite contented with the old ways -of laundrying, and saw no benefits to be gained by forsaking -them;--while the washers and ironers engaged by the laundry proprietor -at higher rates than they had ever obtained before soon wearied of -in-door work, abandoned their situations, and returned with a sense of -relief to their ancient way of working out in the blue air and the wind -of the hills, with their feet in the mountain-water and their heads in -the awful sun. - -... It is one of the sights of St. Pierre,--this daily scene at the -River of the Washerwomen: everybody likes to watch it;--the men, -because among the blanchisseuses there are not a few decidedly -handsome girls; the women, probably because a woman feels always -interested in woman's work. All the white bridges of the Roxelane -are dotted with lookers-on during fine days, and particularly -in the morning, when every bonne on her way to and from the -market stops a moment to observe or to greet those blanchisseuses -whom she knows. Then one hears such a calling and clamoring,--such -an intercrossing of cries from the bridge to the river, and the river -to the bridge.... "Ouill! Noémi!" ... "Coument ou yé, chè?"... -"Eh! Pascaline!"... "Bonjou', Youtte!--Dédé!--Fifi!--Henrillia!"... -"Coument ou kallé, Cyrillia?"... "Toutt douce, chè!--et Ti Mémé?"... "Y -bien;--oti Ninotte?"... "Bo ti manmaille pou moin, chè--ou tanne?"... But -the bridge leading to the market of the Fort is the poorest point of view; -for the better classes of blanchisseuses are not there: only the lazy, -the weak, or non-professionals--house-servants, who do washing at the -river two or three times a month as part of their family-service--are -apt to get so far down. The experienced professionals and early risers -secure the best places and choice of rocks; and among the hundreds at -work you can discern something like a physical gradation. At the next -bridge the women look better, stronger; more young faces appear; and the -further you follow the river-course towards the Jardin des Plantes, the -more the appearance of the blanchisseuses improves,--so that within the -space of a mile you can see well exemplified one natural law of life's -struggle,--the best chances to the best constitutions. - -You might also observe, if you watch long enough, that among the -blanchisseuses there are few sufficiently light of color to be classed -as bright mulâtresses;--the majority are black or of that dark -copper-red race which is perhaps superior to the black creole in -strength and bulk; for it requires a skin insensible to sun as well as -the toughest of constitutions to be a blanchisseuse. A porteuse can -begin to make long trips at nine or ten years; but no girl is strong -enough to learn the washing-trade until she is past twelve. The -blanchisseuse is the hardest worker among the whole population;--her -daily labor is rarely less than thirteen hours; and during the greater -part of that time she is working in the sun, and standing up to her -knees in water that descends quite cold from the mountain peaks. Her -labor makes her perspire profusely; and she can never venture to cool -herself by further immersion without serious danger of pleurisy. The -trade is said to kill all who continue at it beyond a certain number of -years:--"_Nou ka mò toutt dleau_" (we all die of the water), one told -me, replying to a question. No feeble or light-skinned person can -attempt to do a single day's work of this kind without danger; and a -weak girl, driven by necessity to do her own washing, seldom ventures to -go to the river. Yet I saw an instance of such rashness one day. A -pretty sang-mêlée, perhaps about eighteen or nineteen years old,--whom -I afterwards learned had just lost her mother and found herself thus -absolutely destitute,--began to descend one of the flights of stone -steps leading to the river, with a small bundle upon her head; and two -or three of the blanchisseuses stopped their work to look at her. A tall -capresse inquired mischievously:-- - - -[Illustration: LES BLANCHISSEUSES -"_Their daily labor is rarely less than thirteen hours,--during -the greater part of the time in the sun and up to -their knees in water that descends quite cold from the -mountain peaks._"] - - ---"_Ou vini pou pouend yon bain?_" (Coming to take a bath?) For the -river is a great bathing-place. - ---"_Non; moin vini lavé._" (No; I am coming to wash.) - ---"_Aïe! aïe! aïe!--y vini lavé!_"... And all within hearing laughed -together. "Are you crazy, girl?--_ess ou fou?_" The tall capresse -snatched the bundle from her, opened it, threw a garment to her nearest -neighbor, another to the next one, dividing the work among a little -circle of friends, and said to the stranger, "Non ké lavé toutt ça ba -ou bien vite chè,--va, amisé ou!" (We'll wash this for you very -quickly, dear--go and amuse yourself!) These kind women even did more -for the poor girl;--they subscribed to buy her a good breakfast, when -the food-seller--the màchanne-mangé--made her regular round among -them, with fried fish and eggs and manioc flour and bananas. - - - - -II - - -All of the multitude who wash clothing at the river are not professional -blanchisseuses. Hundreds of women, too poor to pay for laundrying, do -their own work at the Roxelane;--and numerous bonnes there wash the -linen of their mistresses as a regular part of their domestic duty. But -even if the professionals did not always occupy a certain well-known -portion of the channel, they could easily be distinguished from others -by their rapid and methodical manner of work, by the ease with which -immense masses of linen are handled by them, and, above all, by their -way of whipping it against the rocks. Furthermore, the greater number of -professionals are likewise teachers, mistresses (_bou'geoises_), and -have their apprentices beside them,--young girls from twelve to sixteen -years of age. Among these _apprenti_, as they are called in the patois, -there are many attractive types, such as idlers upon the bridges like to -look at. - -If, after one year of instruction, the apprentice fails to prove a good -washer, it is not likely she will ever become one; and there are some -branches of the trade requiring a longer period of teaching and of -practice. The young girl first learns simply to soap and wash the linen -in the river, which operation is called "rubbing" (_frotté_ in -creole);--after she can do this pretty well, she is taught the curious -art of whipping it (_fessé_). You can hear the sound of the fessé a -great way off, echoing and re-echoing among the mornes: it is not a -sharp smacking noise, as the name might seem to imply, but a heavy -hollow sound exactly like that of an axe splitting dry timber. In fact, -it so closely resembles the latter sound that you are apt on first -hearing it to look up at the mornes with the expectation of seeing -woodmen there at work. And it is not made by striking the linen with -anything, but only by lashing it against the sides of the rocks.... -After a piece has been well rubbed and rinsed, it is folded up into a -peculiar sheaf-shape, and seized by the closely gathered end for the -fessé. Then the folding process is repeated on the reverse, and the -other end whipped. This process expels suds that rinsing cannot remove: -it must be done very dexterously to avoid tearing or damaging the -material. By an experienced hand the linen is never torn; and even pearl -and bone buttons are much less often broken than might be supposed. The -singular echo is altogether due to the manner of folding the article for -the fessé. - -After this, all the pieces are spread out upon the rocks, in the sun, -for the "first bleaching" (_poumèmiè lablanie_). In the evening they -are gathered into large wooden trays or baskets, and carried to what is -called the "lye-house" (_locaïe lessive_)--overlooking the river from a -point on the Fort bank opposite to the higher end of the Savane. Here -each blanchisseuse hires a small or a large vat, or even -several,--according to the quantity of work done,--at two, three or ten -sous, and leaves her washing to steep in lye (_coulé_ is the creole -word used) during the night. There are watchmen to guard it. Before -daybreak it is rinsed in warm water; then it is taken back to the -river,--is rinsed again, bleached again, blued and starched. Then it is -ready for ironing. To press and iron well is the most difficult part of -the trade. When an apprentice is able to iron a gentleman's shirt -nicely, and a pair of white pantaloons, she is considered to have -finished her time;--she becomes a journey-woman (_ouvouïyé_). - -Even in a country where wages are almost incredibly low, the -blanchisseuse earns considerable money. There is no fixed scale of -prices: it is even customary to bargain with these women beforehand. -Shirts and white pantaloons figure at six and eight cents in laundry -bills; but other washing is much cheaper. I saw a lot of thirty-three -pieces--including such large ones as sheets, bed-covers, and several -douillettes (the long Martinique trailing robes of one piece from neck -to feet)--for which only three francs was charged. Articles are -frequently stolen or lost by house-servants sent to do washing at the -river; but very seldom indeed by the regular blanchisseuses. Few of them -can read or write or understand owners' marks on wearing apparel; and -when you see at the river the wilderness of scattered linen, the -seemingly enormous confusion, you cannot understand how these women -manage to separate and classify it all. Yet they do this admirably,--and -for that reason perhaps more than any other, are able to charge fair -rates;--it is false economy to have your washing done by the -house-servant;--with the professionals your property is safe. And cheap -as her rates are, a good professional can make from twenty-five to -thirty francs a week; averaging fully a hundred francs a month,--as much -as many a white clerk can earn in the stores of St. Pierre, and quite as -much (considering local differences in the purchasing power of money) as -$60 per month would represent in the United States. - -Probably the ability to earn large wages often tempts the blanchisseuse -to continue at her trade until it kills her. The "water-disease," as she -calls it (_maladie-dleau_), makes its appearance after middle-life: the -feet, lower limbs, and abdomen swell enormously, while the face becomes -almost fleshless;--then, gradually tissues give way, muscles yield, and -the whole physical structure crumbles. - -Nevertheless, the blanchisseuse is essentially a sober liver,--never a -drunkard. In fact, she is sober from rigid necessity: she would not dare -to swallow one mouthful of spirits while at work with her feet in the -cold water;--everybody else in Martinique, even the little children, can -drink rum; the blanchisseuse cannot unless she wishes to die of a -congestion. Her strongest refreshment is _mabi_,--a mild, effervescent, -and, I think, rather disagreeable, beer made from molasses. - - - - -III - - -Always before daybreak they rise to work, while the vapors of the monies -fill the air with scent of mouldering vegetation,--clayey odors,--grassy -smells: there is only a faint gray light, and the water of the river is -very chill. One by one they arrive, barefooted, under their burdens -built up tower-shape on their trays;--silently as ghosts they descend -the steps to the river-bed, and begin to unfold and immerse their -washing. They greet each other as they come, then become silent again; -there is scarcely any talking: the hearts of all are heavy with the -heaviness of the hour. But the gray light turns yellow; the sun climbs -over the peaks: light changes the dark water to living crystal; and all -begin to chatter a little. Then the city awakens; the currents of its -daily life circulate again,--thinly and slowly at first, then swiftly -and strongly,--up and down every yellow street, and through the Savane, -and over the bridges of the river. Passers-by pause to look -down, and cry "_bonjou', chè!_" Idle men stare at some pretty washer, -till she points at them and cries:--"_Godé Missié-à ka guetté -nou!--anh!--anh!--anh!_" And all the others look up and repeat the -groan--"_anh!--anh!--anh!_" till the starers beat a retreat. The air -grows warmer; the sky blue takes fire: the great light makes joy for the -washers; they shout to each other from distance to distance, jest, -laugh, sing. - -Gusty of speech these women are: long habit of calling to one another -through the roar of the torrent has given their voices a singular -sonority and force: it is well worth while to hear them sing. One starts -the song,--the next joins her; then another and another, till all the -channel rings with the melody from the bridge of the Jardin des Plantes -to the Pont-bois:-- - - -"C'est moin qui té ka lavé, -Passé, raccommodé: -Y té néf hè disouè -Ou metté moin derhò,-- -Yche moin assous bouas moin;-- -Laplie té ka tombé-- -Léfan moin assous tète moin! -Doudoux, ou m'abandonne! -Moin pa ni pèsonne pou soigné moin."[27] - - -... A melancholy chant--originally a Carnival improvisation made to -bring public shame upon the perpetrator of a cruel act;--but it contains -the story of many of these lives--the story of industrious affectionate -women temporarily united to brutal and worthless men in a country where -legal marriages are rare. Half of the creole songs which I was able to -collect during a residence of nearly two years in the island touch upon -the same sad theme. Of these, "Chè Manman Moin," a great favorite still -with the older blanchisseuses, has a simple pathos unrivalled, I -believe, in the oral literature of this people. Here is an attempt to -translate its three rhymeless stanzas into prose; but the childish -sweetness of the patois original is lost:-- - - -CHÈ MANMAN MOIN - - -I - - -... "Dear mamma, once you were young like I;--dear papa, you also have -been young;--dear great elder brother, you too have been young. Ah! let -me cherish this sweet friendship!--so sick my heart is--yes, 'tis very, -very ill, this heart of mine: love, only love can make it well -again."... - - - - -II - - -"O cursed eyes he praised that led me to him! O cursed lips of mine -which ever repeated his name! O cursed moment in which I gave up my -heart to the ingrate who no longer knows how to love."... - - - - -III - - -"Doudoux, you swore to me by Heaven!--doudoux, you swore to me by your -faith!... And now you cannot come to me?... Oh! my heart is withering -with pain!... I was passing by the cemetery;--I saw my name upon a -stone--all by itself. I saw two white roses; and in a moment one faded -and fell before me.... So my forgotten heart will be!"... - -The air is not so charming, however, as that of a little song which -every creole knows, and which may be often heard still at the river: I -think it is the prettiest of all creole melodies. "To-to-to" (patois for -the French _toc_) is an onomatope for the sound of knocking at a door. - - -"_To, to, to!_--'Ça qui là?' ---'C'est moin-mênme, lanmou;-- -Ouvé lapott ba moin!' - -"_To, to, to!_--'Ça qui là?' ---'C'est moin-mênme, lanmou;-- -Qui ka ba ou khè moin!' - -"_To, to, to!_--'Ça qui là?' ---'C'est moin-mênme, anmou;-- -Laplie ka mouillé moin!'" - -[_To-to-to_... "Who taps there?"--"'Tis mine own self -Love: open the door for me." - -_To-to-to_... "Who taps there?"--"'Tis mine own self -Love, who give my heart to thee." - -_To-to-to_... "Who taps there?"--"Tis mine own self -Love: open thy door to me;--the rain is wetting me!"...] - - -... But it is more common to hear the blanchisseuses singing merry, -jaunty, sarcastic ditties,--Carnival compositions,--in which the African -sense of rhythmic melody is more marked:--"Marie-Clémence maudi, Loéma -tombé, Quand ou ni ti mari jojoll."[28] - ---At mid-day the màchanne-mangé comes, with her girls,--carrying trays -of fried fish, and _akras_, and cooked beans, and bottles of mabi. The -blanchisseuses buy, and eat with their feet in the water, using rocks -for tables. Each has her little tin cup to drink her mabi in.... Then -the washing and the chanting and the booming of the fessé begin again. -Afternoon wanes;--school-hours close; and children of many beautiful -colors come to the river, and leap down the steps crying, "_Eti! -manman!"--"Sésé!"--"Nenneine!_" calling their elder sisters, mothers, -and godmothers: the little boys strip naked to play in the water a -while.... Towards sunset the more rapid and active workers begin to -gather in their linen, and pile it on trays. Large patches of bald rock -appear again.... By six o'clock almost the whole bed of the river is -bare;--the women are nearly all gone. A few linger a while on the -Savane, to watch the last-comer. There is always a great laugh at the -last to leave the channel: they ask her if she has not forgotten "to -lock up the river." - ---"_Ou fèmé lapòte lariviè, chè--anh?_" - ---"_Ah! oui, chè!--moin fèmé y, ou tanne?--moin ni laclé-à!_" (Oh -yes, dear. I locked it up,--you hear?--I've got the key!) - - -But there are days and weeks when they do not sing,--times of want or of -plague, when the silence of the valley is broken only by the sound of -linen beaten upon the rocks, and the great voice of the Roxelane, which -will sing on when the city itself shall have ceased to be, just as it -sang one hundred thousand years ago.... "Why do they not sing to-day?" I -once asked during the summer of 1887,--a year of pestilence. "_Yo ka -pensé toutt lanmizè yo,--toutt lapeine yo_," I was answered. (They are -thinking of all their trouble, all their misery.) Yet in all seasons, -while youth and strength stay with them, they work on in wind and sun, -mist and rain, washing the linen of the living and the dead,--white -wraps for the newly born, white robes for the bride, white shrouds for -them that pass into the Great Silence. And the torrent that wears away -the ribs of the perpetual hills wears away their lives,--sometimes -slowly, slowly as black basalt is worn,--sometimes suddenly,--in the -twinkling of an eye. - -For a strange danger ever menaces the blanchisseuse,--the treachery of -the stream!... Watch them working, and observe how often they turn their -eyes to the high north-east, to look at Pelée. Pelée gives them -warning betimes. When all is sunny in St. Pierre, and the harbor lies -blue as lapis-lazuli, there may be mighty rains in the region of the -great woods and the valleys of the higher peaks; and thin streams swell -to raging floods which burst suddenly from the altitudes, rolling down -rocks and trees and wreck of forests, uplifting crags, devastating -slopes. And sometimes, down the ravine of the Roxelane, there comes a -roar as of eruption, with a rush of foaming water like a moving -mountain-wall; and bridges and buildings vanish with its passing. In -1865 the Savane, high as it lies above the river-bed, was flooded;--and -all the bridges were swept into the sea. - -So the older and wiser blanchisseuses keep watch upon Pelée; and if a -blackness gather over it, with lightnings breaking through, -then--however fair the sun shine on St. Pierre--the alarm is given, the -miles of bleaching linen vanish from the rocks in a few minutes, and -every one leaves the channel. But it has occasionally happened that -Pelée gave no such friendly signal before the river rose: thus lives -have been lost. Most of the blanchisseuses are swimmers, and good -ones,--I have seen one of these girls swim almost out of sight in the -harbor, during an idle hour;--but no swimmer has any chances in a rising -of the Roxelane: all overtaken by it are stricken by rocks and -drift;--_yo crazé_, as a creole term expresses it,--a term signifying -to crush, to bray, to dash to pieces. - -... Sometimes it happens that one who has been absent at home for a -brief while returns to the river only to meet her comrades fleeing from -it,--many leaving their linen behind them. But she will not abandon the -linen intrusted to her: she makes a run for it,--in spite of warning -screams,--in spite of the vain clutching of kind rough fingers. She -gains the river-bed:--the flood has already reached her waist, but she -is strong; she reaches her linen,--snatches it up, piece by piece, -scattered as it is--"one!--two!--five!--seven!";--there is a roaring in -her ears--"eleven!--thirteen!" she has it all... but now the rocks are -moving! For one instant she strives to reach the steps, only a few yards -off;--another, and the thunder of the deluge is upon her,--and the -crushing crags,--and the spinning trees.... - -Perhaps before sundown some canotier may find her floating far in the -bay,--drifting upon her face in a thousand feet of water,--with faithful -dead hands still holding fast the property of her employer. - - -[Footnote 27: It was I who washed and ironed and mended;--at nine -o'clock at night thou didst put me out-of-doors, with my child in my -arms,--the rain was falling,--with my poor straw mattress upon my -head!... Doudoux! thou dost abandon me!... I have none to care for me.] - -[Footnote 28: See Appendix for specimens of creole music.] - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LA PELÉE - - -I - - -The first attempt made to colonize Martinique was abandoned almost as -soon as begun, because the leaders of the expedition found the country -"too rugged and too mountainous," and were "terrified by the prodigious -number of serpents which covered its soil." Landing on June 25, 1635, -Olive and Duplessis left the island after a few hours' exploration, or, -rather, observation, and made sail for Guadeloupe,--according to the -quaint and most veracious history of Père Du Tertre, of the Order of -Friars-Preachers. - -A single glance at the topographical map of Martinique would suffice to -confirm the father's assertion that the country was found to be _trop -haché et trop montueux_: more than two-thirds of it is peak and -mountain;--even to-day only 42,445 of its supposed 98,782 hectares have -been cultivated; and on page 426 of the last "Annuaire" (1887) I find -the statement that in the interior there are extensive Government lands -of which the area is "not exactly known." Yet mountainous as a country -must be which--although scarcely forty-nine miles long and twenty miles -in average breath--remains partly unfamiliar to its own inhabitants -after nearly three centuries of civilization (there are not half a dozen -creoles who have travelled all over it), only two elevations in -Martinique bear the name _montagne._ These are La Montagne Pelée, in -the north, and La Montagne du Vauclin, in the south. The term _morne_, -used throughout the French West Indian colonies to designate certain -altitudes of volcanic origin, a term rather unsatisfactorily translated -in certain dictionaries as "a small mountain," is justly applied to the -majority of Martinique hills, and unjustly sometimes even to its -mightiest elevation,--called Morne Pelé, or Montagne Pelée, or simply -"La Montagne," according, perhaps, to the varying degree of respect it -inspires in different minds. But even in the popular nomenclature one -finds the orography of Martinique, as well as of other West Indian -islands, regularly classified by _pitons, mornes_, and _monts_ or -_montagnes._ Mornes usually have those beautiful and curious forms which -bespeak volcanic origin even to the unscientific observer: they are most -often pyramidal or conoid up to a certain height; but have summits -either rounded or truncated;--their sides, green with the richest -vegetation, rise from valley-levels and coastlines with remarkable -abruptness, and are apt to be curiously ribbed or wrinkled. The pitons, -far fewer in number, are much more fantastic in form;--volcanic cones, -or volcanic upheavals of splintered strata almost at right -angles,--sometimes sharp of lines as spires, and mostly too steep for -habitation. They are occasionally mammiform, and so symmetrical that one -might imagine them artificial creations,--particularly when they occur -in pairs. Only a very important mass is dignified by the name -_montagne_: there are, as I have already observed, but two thus called -in all Martinique,--Pelée, the head and summit of the island; and La -Montagne du Vauclin, in the south-east. Vauclin is inferior in height -and bulk to several mornes and pitons of the north and north-west,--and -owes its distinction probably to its position as centre of a system of -ranges: but in altitude and mass and majesty. Pelée far outranks -everything in the island, and well deserves its special appellation, "La -Montagne." - -No description could give the reader a just idea of what Martinique is, -configuratively, so well as the simple statement that, although less -than fifty miles in extreme length, and less than twenty in average -breadth, there are upwards of _four hundred mountains_ in this little -island, or of what at least might be termed mountains elsewhere. These -again are divided and interpeaked, and bear hillocks on their -slopes;--and the lowest hillock in Martinique is fifty metres high. Some -of the peaks are said to be totally inaccessible: many mornes are so on -one or two or even three sides. Ninety-one only of the principal -mountains have been named; and among these several bear similar -appellations: for example, there are two Mornes-Rouges, one in the north -and one in the south; and there are four or five Gros-Mornes. All the -elevations belong to six great groups, clustering about or radiating -from six ancient volcanic centres,--1. La Pelée; 2. Pitons du Carbet; -3. Roches Carrées;[29] 4. Vauclin; 5. Marin; 6. Morne de la Plaine. -Forty-two distinct mountain-masses belong to the Carbet system -alone,--that of Pelée including but thirteen; and the whole Carbet area -has a circumference of 120,000 metres,--much more considerable than that -of Pelée. But its centre is not one enormous pyramidal mass like that -of "La Montagne"; it is marked only by a group of five remarkable -porphyritic cones,--the Pitons of Carbet;--while Pelée, dominating -everything, and filling the north, presents an aspect and occupies an -area scarcely inferior to those of Ætna. - ---Sometimes, while looking at La Pelée, I have wondered if the -enterprise of the great Japanese painter who made the Hundred Views of -Fusiyama could not be imitated by some creole artist equally proud of -his native hills, and fearless of the heat of the plains or the snakes -of the slopes. A hundred views of Pelée might certainly be made: for -the enormous mass is omnipresent to dwellers in the northern part of the -island, and can be seen from the heights of the most southern mornes. It -is visible from almost any part of St. Pierre,--which nestles in a fold -of its rocky skirts. It overlooks all the island ranges, and overtops -the mighty Pitons of Carbet by a thousand feet;--you can only lose sight -of it by entering gorges, or journeying into the valleys of the -south.... But the peaked character of the whole country, and the hot -moist climate, oppose any artistic undertaking of the sort suggested: -even photographers never dream of taking views in the further interior, -nor on the east coast. Travel, moreover, is no less costly than -difficult: there are no inns or places of rest for tourists; there are, -almost daily, sudden and violent rains, which are much dreaded (since a -thorough wetting, with the pores all distended by heat, may produce -pleurisy); and there are serpents! The artist willing to devote a few -weeks of travel and study to Pelée, in spite of these annoyances and -risks, has not yet made his appearance in Martinique.[30] - -Huge as the mountain looks from St. Pierre, the eye underestimates its -bulk; and when you climb the mornes about the town, Labelle, d'Orange, -or the much grander Parnasse, you are surprised to find how much vaster -Pelée appears from these summits. Volcanic hills often seem higher, by -reason of their steepness, than they really are; but Pelée deludes in -another manner. From surrounding valleys it appears lower, and from -adjacent mornes higher than it really is: the illusion in the former -case being due to the singular slope of its contours, and the remarkable -breadth of its base, occupying nearly all the northern end of the -island; in the latter, to misconception of the comparative height of the -eminence you have reached, which deceives by the precipitious pitch of -its sides. Pelée is not very remarkable in point of altitude, however: -its height was estimated by Moreau de Jonnés at 1600 metres; and by -others at between 4400 and 4500 feet. The sum of the various imperfect -estimates made justifies the opinion of Dr. Cornilliac that the extreme -summit is over 5000 feet above the sea--perhaps 5200.[31] The clouds of -the summit afford no indication to eyes accustomed to mountain scenery -in northern countries; for in these hot moist latitudes clouds hang very -low, even in fair weather. But in bulk Pelée is grandiose: it spurs out -across the island from the Caribbean to the Atlantic: the great chains -of mornes about it are merely counter-forts; the Piton Pierreux and the -Piton Pain-à-Sucre (_Sugar-loaf Peak_), and other elevations varying -from 800 to 2100 feet, are its volcanic children. Nearly thirty rivers -have their birth in its flanks,--besides many thermal springs, variously -mineralized. As the culminant point of the island. Pelée is also the -ruler of its météorologie life,--cloud-herder, lightning-forger, and -rain-maker. During clear weather you can see it drawing to itself all -the white vapors of the land,--robbing lesser eminences of their -shoulder-wraps and head-coverings;--though the Pitons of Carbet (3700 -feet) usually manage to retain about their middle a cloud-clout,--a -_lantchô._ You will also see that the clouds run in a circle about -Pelée,--gathering bulk as they turn by continual accessions from other -points. If the crater be totally bare in the morning, and shows the -broken edges very sharply against the blue, it is a sign of foul rather -than of fair weather to come.[32] - -Even in bulk, perhaps, Pelée might not impress those who know the -stupendous scenery of the American ranges; but none could deny it -special attractions appealing to the senses of form and color. There is -an imposing fantasticality in its configuration worth months of artistic -study: one does not easily tire of watching its slopes undulating -against the north sky,--and the strange jagging of its ridges,--and the -succession of its terraces crumbling down to other terraces, which again -break into ravines here and there bridged by enormous buttresses of -basalt: an extravaganza of lava-shapes overpitching and cascading into -sea and plain. All this is verdant wherever surfaces catch the sun: you -can divine what the frame is only by examining the dark and ponderous -rocks of the torrents. And the hundred tints of this verdure do not form -the only colorific charms of the landscape. Lovely as the long -upreaching slopes of cane are,--and the loftier bands of forest-growths, -so far off that they look like belts of moss,--and the more -tender-colored masses above, wrinkling and folding together up to the -frost-white clouds of the summit,--you will be still more delighted by -the shadow-colors,--opulent, diaphanous. The umbrages lining the -wrinkles, collecting in the hollows, slanting from sudden projections, -may become before your eyes almost as unreally beautiful as the -landscape colors of a Japanese fan;--they shift most generally during -the day from indigo-blue through violets and paler blues to final lilacs -and purples; and even the shadows of passing clouds have a faint blue -tinge when they fall on Pelée. - -.... Is the great volcano dead?... Nobody knows. Less than forty years -ago it rained ashes over all the roofs of St. Pierre;--within twenty -years it has uttered mutterings. For the moment, it appears to sleep; -and the clouds have dripped into the cup of its highest crater till it -has become a lake, several hundred yards in circumference. The crater -occupied by this lake--called L'Étang, or "The Pool"--has never been -active within human memory. There are others,--difficult and dangerous -to visit because opening on the side of a tremendous gorge; and it was -one of these, no doubt, which has always been called _La Soufrière_, -that rained ashes over the city in 1851. - -The explosion was almost concomitant with the last of a series of -earthquake shocks, which began in the middle of May and ended in the -first week of August,--all much more severe in Guadeloupe than in -Martinique. In the village Au Prêcheur, lying at the foot of the -western slope of Pelée, the people had been for some time complaining -of an oppressive stench of sulphur,--or, as chemists declared it, -sulphuretted hydrogen,--when, on the 4th of August, much trepidation was -caused by a long and appalling noise from the mountain,--a noise -compared by planters on the neighboring slopes to the hollow roaring -made by a packet blowing off steam, but infinitely louder. These sounds -continued through intervals until the following night, sometimes -deepening into a rumble like thunder. The mountain guides declared: -"_C'est la Soufrière qui bout!_" (the Souffrière is boiling); and a -panic seized the negroes of the neighboring plantations. At 11 P.M. the -noise was terrible enough to fill all St. Pierre with alarm; and on the -morning of the 6th the city presented an unwonted aspect, compared by -creoles who had lived abroad to the effect of a great hoar-frost. All -the roofs, trees, balconies, awnings, pavements, were covered with a -white layer of ashes. The same shower blanched the roofs of Monte Rouge, -and all the villages about the chief city,--Carbet, Fond-Corré, and Au -Prêcheur; also whitening the neighboring country: the mountain was -sending up columns of smoke or vapor; and it was noticed that the -Rivière Blanche, usually of a glaucous color, ran black into the sea -like an outpouring of ink, staining its azure for a mile. A committee -appointed to make an investigation, and prepare an official report, -found that a number of rents had either been newly formed, or suddenly -become active, in the flank of the mountain: these were all situated in -the immense gorge sloping westward from that point now known as the -Morne de la Croix. Several were visited with much difficulty,--members -of the commission being obliged to lower themselves down a succession of -precipices with cords of lianas; and it is noteworthy that their -researches were prosecuted in spite of the momentary panic created by -another outburst. It was satisfactorily ascertained that the main force -of the explosion had been exerted within a perimeter of about one -thousand yards; that various hot springs had suddenly gushed out,--the -temperature of the least warm being about 37° Réaumur (116° -F.);--that there was no change in the configuration of the -mountain;--and that the terrific sounds had been produced only by the -violent outrush of vapor and ashes from some of the rents. In hope of -allaying the general alarm, a creole priest climbed the summit of the -volcano, and there planted the great cross which gives the height its -name and still remains to commemorate the event. - -There was an extraordinary emigration of serpents from the high woods, -and from the higher to the lower plantations,--where they were killed by -thousands. For a long time Pelée continued to send up an immense column -of white vapor; but there were no more showers of ashes; and the -mountain gradually settled down to its present state of quiescence. - - -[Footnote 29: Also called _La Barre de l'Isle_,--a long high -mountain-wall interlinking the northern and southern system of -ranges,--and only two metres broad at the summit. The "Roches-Carrées" -display a geological formation unlike anything discovered in the rest of -the Antillesian system, excepting in Grenada,--columnar or prismatic -basalts.... In the plains of Marin curious petrifactions exist;--I saw a -honey-comb so perfect that the eye alone could scarcely divine the -transformation.] - -[Footnote 30: Thibault de Chanvallon, writing of Martinique in 1751, -declared:--"All possible hindrances to study are encountered here (_tout -s'oppose à l'étude_): if the Americans (creoles) do not devote -themselves to research, the fact must not be attributed solely to -indifference or indolence. On the one hand, the overpowering and -continual heat,--the perpetual succession of mornes and -acclivities,--the difficulty of entering forests rendered almost -inaccessible by the lianas interwoven across all openings, and the -prickly plants which oppose a barrier to the naturalist,--the continual -anxiety and fear inspired by serpents also;--on the other hand, the -disheartening necessity of having to work alone, and the discouragement -of being unable to communicate one's ideas or discoveries to persons -having similar tastes. And finally, it must be remembered that these -discouragements and dangers are never mitigated by the least hope of -personal consideration, or by the pleasure of emulation,--since such -study is necessarily unaccompanied either by the one or the other in a -country where nobody undertakes it."--(_Voyage à la Martinique._)... -The conditions have scarcely changed since De Chanvallon's day, despite -the creation of Government roads, and the thinning of the high woods.] - -[Footnote 31: Humboldt believed the height to be not less than 800 taint -(1 toise=6 feet 4.73 inches), or about 5115 feet.] - -[Footnote 32: There used to be a strange popular belief that however -heavily veiled by clouds the mountain might be prior to an earthquake, -these would always vanish with the first shock. But Thibault de -Chanvallon took pains to examine into the truth of this alleged -phenomenon; and found that during a number of earthquake shocks the -clouds remained over the crater precisely as usual.... There was more -foundation, however, for another popular belief, which still -exists,--that the absolute purity of the atmosphere about Pelée, and -the perfect exposure of its summit for any considerable tinny might be -regarded as an omen of hurricane.] - - - - -II - - -From St. Pierre, trips to Pelée can be made by several routes;--the -most popular is that by way of Morne Rouge and the Calebasse; but the -summit can be reached in much less time by making the ascent from -different points along the coast-road to Au Prêcheur,--such as the -Morne St. Martin, or a well-known path further north, passing near the -celebrated hot springs (_Fontaines Chaudes_). You drive towards Au -Prêcheur, and begin the ascent on foot, through cane-plantations.... -The road by which you follow the north-west coast round the skirts of -Pelée is very picturesque:--you cross the Roxelane, the Rivière des -Pères, the Rivière Sèche (whose bed is now occupied only by a -motionless torrent of rocks);--passing first by the suburb of -Fond-Corré, with its cocoa groves, and broad beach of iron-gray -sand,--a bathing resort;--then Pointe Prince, and the Fond de -Canonville, somnolent villages that occupy wrinkles in the hem of -Pelée's lava robe. The drive ultimately rises and lowers over the -undulations of the cliff, and is well shadowed along the greater part of -its course: you will admire many huge _fromagers_, or silk-cotton trees, -various heavy lines of tamarinds, and groups of _flamboyants_ with thick -dark feathery foliage, and cassia-trees with long pods pending and -blackening from every branch, and hedges of campêche, or logwood, and -calabash-trees, and multitudes of the pretty shrubs bearing the fruit -called in creole _raisins-bò-lanmè_, or "sea-side grapes." Then you -reach Au Prêcheur: a very antiquated village, which boasts a stone -church and a little public square with a fountain in it. If you have -time to cross the Rivière du Prêcheur, a little further on, you can -obtain a fine view of the coast, which, rising suddenly to a grand -altitude, sweeps round in a semicircle over the Village of the Abysses -(_Aux Abymes_),--whose name was doubtless suggested by the immense depth -of the sea at that point.... It was under the shadow of those cliffs -that the Confederate cruiser _Alabama_ once, hid herself, as a fish -hides in the shadow of a rock, and escaped from her pursuer, the -Iroquois. She had long been blockaded in the harbor of St. Pierre by the -Northern man-of-war,--anxiously awaiting a chance to pounce upon her the -instant she should leave French waters;--and various Yankee vessels in -port were to send up rocket-signals should the _Alabama_ attempt to -escape under cover of darkness. But one night the privateer took a -creole pilot on board, and steamed out southward, with all her lights -masked, and her chimneys so arranged that neither smoke nor sparks could -betray her to the enemy in the offing. However, some Yankee vessels near -enough to discern her movements through the darkness at once shot -rockets south; and the Iroquois gave chase. The _Alabama_ hugged the -high shore as far as Carbet, remaining quite invisible in the shadow of -it: then she suddenly turned and recrossed the harbor. Again Yankee -rockets betrayed her manœuvre to the _Iroquois_; but she gained Aux -Abymes, laid herself dose to the enormous black cliff, and there -remained indistinguishable; the _Iroquois_ steamed by north without -seeing her. Once the Confederate cruiser found her enemy well out of -sight, she put her pilot ashore and escaped into the Dominica channel. -The pilot was a poor mulatto, who thought himself well paid with five -hundred francs! - -... The more popular route to Pelée by way of Morne Rouge is otherwise -interesting.... Anybody not too much afraid of the tropic sun must find -it a delightful experience to follow the mountain roads leading to the -interior from the city, as all the mornes traversed by them command -landscapes of extraordinary beauty. According to the zigzags of the way, -the scenery shifts panoramically. At one moment you are looking down -into valleys a thousand feet below, at another, over luminous leagues of -meadow or cane-field, you see some far crowding of cones and cratered -shapes--sharp as the teeth of a saw, and blue as sapphire,--with further -eminences ranging away through pearline color to high-peaked -remotenesses of vapory gold. As you follow the windings of such a way as -the road of the Morne Labelle, or the Morne d'Orange, the city -disappears and reappears many times,--always diminishing, till at last -it looks no bigger than a chess-board. Simultaneously distant mountain -shapes appear to unfold and lengthen;--and always, always the sea rises -with your rising. Viewed at first from the bulwark (boulevard) -commanding the roofs of the town, its horizon-line seemed straight and -keen as a knife-edge;--but as you mount higher, it elongates, begins to -curve; and gradually the whole azure expanse of water broadens out -roundly like a disk. From certain very lofty summits further inland you -behold the immense blue circle touching the sky all round you,--except -where a still greater altitude, like that of Pelée or the Pitons, -breaks the ring; and this high vision of the sea has a phantasmal effect -hard to describe, and due to vapory conditions of the atmosphere. There -are bright cloudless days when, even as seen from the city, the -ocean-verge has a spectral vagueness; but on any day, in any season, -that you ascend to a point dominating the sea by a thousand feet, the -rim of the visible world takes a ghostliness that startles,--because the -prodigious light gives to all near shapes such intense sharpness of -outline and vividness of color. - - -[Illustration: LA PELÉE -"_Over luminous leagues of meadow or cane field, you -see far crowding of cones and cratered shapes--sharp -as the teeth of a saw, and blue as a sapphire._"] - - -Yet wonderful as are the perspective beauties of those mountain routes -from which one can keep St. Pierre in view, the road to Morne Rouge -surpasses them, notwithstanding that it almost immediately leaves the -city behind, and out of sight. Excepting only _La Trace_,--the long -routs winding over mountain ridges and between primitive forests south -to Fort-de-France,--there is probably no section of national highway in -the island more remarkable than the Morne Rouge road. Leaving the Grande -Rue by the public conveyance, you drive out through the Savane du Fort, -with its immense mango and tamarind trees, skirting the Roxelane. Then -reaching the boulevard, you pass high Morne Labelle,--and then the -Jardin des Plantes on the right, where white-stemmed palms are lifting -their heads two hundred feet,--and beautiful Parnasse, heavily timbered -to the top;--while on your left the valley of the Roxelane shallows up, -and Pelée shows less and less of its tremendous base. Then you pass -through the sleepy, palmy, pretty Village of the Three Bridges (_Trois -Ponts_),--where a Fahrenheit thermometer shows already three degrees of -temperature lower than at St. Pierre;--and the national road, making a -sharp turn to the right, becomes all at once very steep--so steep that -the horses can mount only at a walk. Around and between the wooded hills -it ascends by zigzags,--occasionally overlooking the sea,--sometimes -following the verges of ravines. Now and then you catch glimpses of the -road over which you passed half an hour before undulating far below, -looking narrow as a tape-line,--and of the gorge of the Roxelane,--and -of Pelée always higher, now thrusting out long spurs of green and -purple land into the sea. You drive under cool shadowing of mountain -woods--under waving bamboos like enormous ostrich feathers dyed -green,--and exquisite tree-ferns thirty to forty feet high,--and -imposing ceibas, with strangely buttressed trunks,--and all sorts of -broadleaved forms: cachibous, balisiers, bananiers.... Then you reach a -plateau covered with cane, whose yellow expanse is bounded on the right -by a demilune of hills sharply angled as crystals;--on the left it dips -seaward; and before you Pelée's head towers over the shoulders of -intervening monies. A strong cool wind is blowing; and the horses can -trot a while. Twenty minutes, and the road, leaving the plateau, becomes -steep again;--you are approaching the volcano over the ridge of a -colossal spur. The way turns in a semicircle,--zigzags,--once more -touches the edge of a valley,--where the clear fall might be nearly -fifteen hundred feet. But narrowing more and more, the valley becomes an -ascending gorge; and across its chasm, upon the brow of the opposite -cliff, you catch sight of houses and a spire seemingly perched on the -verge, like so many birds'-nests,--the village of Morne Rouge. It is two -thousand feet above the sea; and Pelée, although looming high over it, -looks a trifle less lofty now. - -One's first impression of Morne Rouge is that of a single straggling -street of gray-painted cottages and shops (or rather booths), dominated -by a plain church, with four pursy-bodied palmistes facing the main -porch. Nevertheless, Morne Rouge is not a small place, considering its -situation;--there are nearly five thousand inhabitants; but in order to -find out where they live, you must leave the public road, which is on a -ridge, and explore the high-hedged lanes leading down from it on either -side. Then you will find a veritable city of little wooden -cottages,--each screened about with banana-trees, Indian-reeds, and -_pommiers-roses._ You will also see a number of handsome private -residences--country-houses of wealthy merchants; and you will find that -the church, though uninteresting exteriorly, is rich and impressive -within: it is a famous shrine, where miracles are alleged to have been -wrought. Immense processions periodically wend their way to it from St. -Pierre,--starting at three or four o'clock in the morning, so as to -arrive before the sun is well up.... But there are no woods here,--only -fields. An odd tone is given to the lanes by a local custom of planting -hedges of what are termed _roseaux d'Inde_, having a dark-red foliage; -and there is a visible fondness for ornamental plants with crimson -leaves. Otherwise the mountain summit is somewhat bare; trees have a -scrubby aspect. You must have noticed while ascending that the palmistes -became smaller as they were situated higher: at Morne Rouge they are -dwarfed,--having a short stature, and very thick trunks. - -In spite of the fine views of the sea, the mountain-heights, and the -valley-reaches, obtainable from Morne Rouge, the place has a somewhat -bleak look. Perhaps this is largely owing to the universal slate-gray -tint of the buildings,--very melancholy by comparison with the apricot -and banana yellows tinting the walls of St. Pierre. But this cheerless -gray is the only color which can resist the climate of Morne Rouge, -where people are literally dwelling in the clouds. Rolling down like -white smoke from Pelée, these often create a dismal fog; and Morne -Rouge is certainly one of the rainiest places in the world. When it is -dry everywhere else, it rains at Morne Rouge. It rains at least three -hundred and sixty days and three hundred and sixty nights of the year. -It rains almost invariably once in every twenty-four hours; but oftener -five or six times. The dampness is phenomenal. All mirrors become -patchy; linen moulds in one day; leather turns white; woollen goods feel -as if saturated with moisture; new brass becomes green; steel crumbles -into red powder: wood-work rots with astonishing rapidity; salt is -quickly transformed into brine; and matches, unless kept in a very warm -place, refuse to light. Everything moulders and peels and decomposes; -even the frescos of the church-interior lump out in immense blisters; -and a microscopic vegetation, green or brown, attacks all exposed -surfaces of timber or stone. At night it is often really cold;--and it -is hard to understand how, with all this dampness and coolness and -mouldiness, Morne Rouge can be a healthy place. But it is so, beyond any -question: it is the great Martinique resort for invalids; strangers -debilitated by the climate of Trinidad or Cayenne come to it for -recuperation. - -Leaving the village by the still uprising road, you will be surprised, -after a walk of twenty minutes northward, by a magnificent view,--the -vast valley of the Champ-Flore, watered by many torrents, and bounded -south and west by double, triple, and quadruple surging of -mountains,--mountains broken, peaked, tormented-looking, and tinted -(_irisées_, as the creoles say) with all those gem-tones distance gives -in a West Indian atmosphere. Particularly impressive is the beauty of -one purple cone in the midst of this many-colored chain: the Piton -Gélé. All the valley-expanse of rich land is checkered with -alternations of meadow and cane and cacao,--except northwestwardly, -where woods billow out of sight beyond a curve. Facing this landscape, -on your left, are mornes of various heights,--among which you will -notice La Calebasse, overtopping everything but Pelée shadowing behind -it;--and a grass-grown road leads up westward from the national highway -towards the volcano. This is the Calebasse route to Pelée. - - - - -III - - -One must be very sure of the weather before undertaking the ascent of -Pelée; for if one merely selects some particular leisure day in -advance, one's chances of seeing anything from the summit are -considerably less than an astronomer's chances of being able to make a -satisfactory observation of the next transit of Venus. Moreover, if the -heights remain even partly clouded, it may not be safe to ascend the -Morne de la Croix,--a cone-point above the crater itself, and ordinarily -invisible below. And a cloudless afternoon can never be predicted from -the aspect of deceitful Pelée: when the crater edges are quite clearly -cut against the sky at dawn, you may be tolerably certain there will be -bad weather during the day; and when they are all bare at sundown, you -have no good reason to believe they will not be hidden next morning. -Hundreds of tourists, deluded by such appearances, have made the weary -trip in vain,--found themselves obliged to return without having seen -anything but a thick white cold fog. The sky may remain perfectly blue -for weeks in every other direction, and Pelée's head remain always -hidden. In order to make a successful ascent, one must not wait for a -period of dry weather,--one might thus wait for years! What one must -look for is a certain periodicity in the diurnal rains,--a regular -alternation of sun and cloud; such as characterizes a certain portion of -the hivernage, or rainy summer season, when mornings and evenings are -perfectly limpid, with very heavy sudden rains in the middle of the day. -It is of no use to rely on the prospect of a dry spell. There is no -really dry weather, notwithstanding there recurs--in books--a _Saison de -la Sécheresse._ In fact, there are no distinctly marked seasons in -Martinique:--a little less heat and rain from October to July, a little -more rain and heat from July to October: that is about all the notable -difference! Perhaps the official notification by cannon-shot that the -hivernage, the season of heavy rains and hurricanes, begins on July -15th, is no more trustworthy than the contradictory declarations of -Martinique authors who have attempted to define the vague and illusive -limits of the tropic seasons. Still, the Government report on the -subject is more satisfactory than any: according to the "Annuaire," -there are these seasons:-- - -1. _Saison fraîche._ December to March. Rainfall, about 475 -millimeters. - -2. _Saison chaude et sèche._ April to July. Rainfall, about 140 -millimeters. - -3. _Saison chaude et pluvieuse._ July to November. Rainfall average, -1121 millimeters. - -Other authorities divide the _saison chaude et sèche_ into two periods, -of which the latter, beginning about May, is called the _Renouveau_; and -it is at least true that at the time indicated there is a great burst of -vegetal luxuriance. But there is always rain, there are almost always -clouds, there is no possibility of marking and dating the beginnings and -the endings of weather in this country where the barometer is almost -useless, and the thermometer mounts in the sun to twice the figure it -reaches in the shade. Long and patient observation has, however, -established the fact that during the hivernage, if the heavy showers -have a certain fixed periodicity,--falling at mid-day or in the heated -part of the afternoon,--Pelée is likely to be clear early in the -morning; and by starting before daylight one can then have good chances -of a fine view from the summit. - - - - -IV - - -At five o'clock of a September morning, warm and starry, I leave St. -Pierre in a carriage with several friends, to make the ascent by the -shortest route of all,--that of the Morne St. Martin, one of Pelée's -western counterforts. We drive north along the shore for about half an -hour; then, leaving the coast behind, pursue a winding mountain road, -leading to the upper plantations, between leagues of cane. The sky -begins to brighten as we ascend, and a steely glow announces that day -has begun on the other side of the island. Miles up, the crest of the -volcano cuts sharp as a saw-edge against the growing light: there is not -a cloud visible. Then the light slowly yellows behind the vast cone; and -one of the most beautiful dawns I ever saw reveals on our right an -immense valley through which three rivers flow. This deepens very -quickly as we drive; the mornes about St. Pierre, beginning to catch the -light, sink below us in distance; and above them, southwardly, an -amazing silhouette begins to rise,--all blue,--a mountain wall capped -with cusps and cones, seeming high as Pelée itself in the middle, but -sinking down to the sea-level westward. There are a number of -extraordinary acuminations; but the most impressive shape is the -nearest,--a tremendous conoidal mass crowned with a group of peaks, of -which two, taller than the rest, tell their name at once by the beauty -of their forms,--the Pitons of Carbet. They wear their girdles of cloud, -though Pelée is naked to-day. All this is blue: the growing light only -deepens the color, does not dissipate it;--but in the nearer valleys -gleams of tender yellowish green begin to appear. Still the sun has not -been able to show himself;--it will take him some time yet to climb -Pelée. - -Reaching the last plantation, we draw rein in a village of small wooden -cottages,--the quarters of the field hands,--and receive from the -proprietor, a personal friend of my friends, the kindest welcome. At his -house we change clothing and prepare for the journey;--he provides for -our horses, and secures experienced guides for us,--two young colored -men belonging to the plantation. Then we begin the ascent. The guides -walk before, barefoot, each carrying a cutlass in his hand and a package -on his head--our provisions, photographic instruments, etc. - -The mountain is cultivated in spots up to twenty-five hundred feet; and -for three-quarters of an hour after leaving the planter's residence we -still traverse fields of cane and of manioc. The light is now strong in -the valley; but we are in the shadow of Pelée. Cultivated fields end at -last; the ascending path is through wild cane, wild guavas, guinea-grass -run mad, and other tough growths, some bearing pretty pink blossoms. The -forest is before us. Startled by our approach, a tiny fer-de-lance -glides out from a bunch of dead wild-cane, almost under the bare feet of -our foremost guide, who as instantly decapitates it with a touch of his -cutlass. It is not quite fifteen inches long, and almost the color of -the yellowish leaves under which it had been hiding.... The -conversation turns on snakes as we make our first halt at the verge of -the woods. - - -[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, ST. PIERRE -_Completely destroyed by the catastrophe of 1902 except -for a marble statue of the Virgin. This has been set -high on a cliff above the town and may be seen from -far out at sea._] - - -Hundreds may be hiding around us; but a snake never shows himself by -daylight except under the pressure of sudden alarm. We are not likely, -in the opinion of all present, to meet another. Every one in the party, -except myself, has some curious experience to relate. I hear for the -first time about the alleged inability of the trigonocephalus to wound -except at a distance from his enemy of not less than one-third of his -length;--about M. A----, a former director of the Jardin des Plantes, -who used to boldly thrust his arm into holes where he knew snakes were, -and pull them out,--catching them just behind the head and wrapping the -tail round his arm,--and place them alive in a cage without ever getting -bitten;--about M. B----, who, while hunting one day, tripped in the -coils of an immense trigonocephalus, and ran so fast in his fright that -the serpent, entangled round his leg, could not bite him;--about M. -C----, who could catch a fer-de-lance by the tail, and "crack it like a -whip" until the head would fly off;--about an old white man living in -the Champ-Flore, whose diet was snake-meat, and who always kept in his -ajoupa "a keg of salted serpents" (_yon ka sèpent-salé_);--about a -monster eight feet long which killed, near Morne Rouge, M. Charles -Fabre's white cat, but was also killed by the cat after she had been -caught in the folds of the reptile;--about the value of snakes as -protectors of the sugar-cane and cocoa-shrub against rats;--about an -unsuccessful effort made, during a plague of rats in Guadeloupe, to -introduce the fer-de-lance there;--about the alleged power of a -monstrous toad, the _crapaud-ladre_, to cause the death of the snake -that swallows it;--and, finally, about the total absence of the idyllic -and pastoral elements in Martinique literature, as due to the presence -of reptiles everywhere. "Even the flora and fauna of the country remain -to a large extent unknown,"--adds the last speaker, an amiable old -physician of St. Pierre,--"because the existence of the fer-de-lance -renders all serious research dangerous in the extreme." - -My own experiences do not justify my taking part in such a -conversation;--I never saw alive but two very small specimens of the -trigonocephalus. People who have passed even a considerable time in -Martinique may have never seen a fer-de-lance except in a jar of -alcohol, or as exhibited by negro snake-catchers, tied fast to a bamboo. -But this is only because strangers rarely travel much in the interior of -the country, or find themselves on country roads after sundown. It is -not correct to suppose that snakes are uncommon even in the neighborhood -of St. Pierre: they are often killed on the bulwarks behind the city and -on the verge of the Savane; they have been often washed into the streets -by heavy rains; and many washer-women at the Roxelane have been bitten -by them. It is considered very dangerous to walk about the bulwarks -after dark;--for the snakes, which travel only at night, then descend -from the mornes towards the river. The Jardin des Plantes shelters great -numbers of the reptiles; and only a few days prior to the writing of -these lines a colored laborer in the garden was stricken and killed by a -fer-de-lance measuring one metre and sixty-seven centimetres in length. -In the interior much larger reptiles are sometimes seen: I saw one -freshly killed measuring six feet five inches, and thick as a man's leg -in the middle. There are few planters in the island who have not some of -their hands bitten during the cane-cutting and cocoa-gathering -seasons;--the average annual mortality among the class of travailleurs -from serpent bite alone is probably fifty[33],--always fine young men or -women in the prime of life. Even among the wealthy whites deaths from -this cause are less rare than might be supposed: I know one gentleman, a -rich citizen of St. Pierre, who in ten years lost three relatives by the -trigonocephalus,--the wound having in each case been received in the -neighborhood of a vein. When the vein has been pierced, cure is -impossible. - - -[Footnote 33: "De la piqûre du serpent de la Martinique," par Auguste -Charriez, Médecin de la Marine. Paris: Moquet, 1875.] - - - - -V - - -... We look back over the upreaching yellow fan-spread of cane-fields, -and winding of tortuous valleys, and the sea expanding beyond an opening -in the west. It has already broadened surprisingly, the sea,--appears to -have risen up, not as a horizontal plane, but like an immeasurable azure -precipice: what will it look like when we shall have reached the top? -Far down we can distinguish a line of field-hands--the whole _atelier_, -as it is called, of a plantation--slowly descending a slope, hewing the -canes as they go. There is a woman to every two men, a binder -(_amarreuse_): she gathers the canes as they are cut down, binds them -with their own tough long leaves into a sort of sheaf, and carries them -away on her head;--the men wield their cutlasses so beautifully that it -is a delight to watch them. One cannot often enjoy such a spectacle -nowadays; for the introduction of the piece-work system has destroyed -the picturesqueness of plantation labor throughout the island, with rare -exceptions. Formerly the work of cane-cutting resembled the march of an -army;--first advanced the cutlassers in line, naked to the waist; then -the amarreuses, the women who tied and carried; and behind these the -_ka_, the drum,--with a paid _crieur_ or _crieuse_ to lead the -song;--and lastly the black Commandeur, for general. And in the old -days, too, it was not unfrequent that the sudden descent of an English -corsair on the coast converted this soldiery of labor into veritable -military: more than one attack was repelled by the cutlasses of a -plantation atelier. - -At this height the chatting and chanting can be heard, though not -distinctly enough to catch the words. Suddenly a voice, powerful as a -bugle, rings out,--the voice of the Commandeur: he walks along the line, -looking, with his cutlass under his arm. I ask one of our guides what -the cry is:-- - ---"_Y ka coumandé yo pouend gàde pou sèpent_," he replies. (He is -telling them to keep watch for serpents.) The nearer the cutlassers -approach the end of their task, the greater the danger: for the -reptiles, retreating before them to the last clump of cane, become -massed there, and will fight desperately. Regularly as the -ripening-time, Death gathers his toll of human lives from among the -workers. But when one falls, another steps into the vacant -place,--perhaps the Commandeur himself: these dark swordsmen never -retreat; all the blades swing swiftly as before; there is hardly any -emotion; the travailleur is a fatalist....[34] - - -[Footnote 34: M. Francard Baya delle, overseer of the Presbourg -plantation at Grande Anse, tells me that the most successful treatment -of snakebite consists in severe local cupping and bleeding; the -immediate application of twenty to thirty leeches (when these can be -obtained), and the administration of alkali as an internal medicine. He -has saved several lives by these methods. - -The negro _panseur's_ method is much more elaborate and, to some -extent, mysterious. He cups and bleeds, using a small _couï_, or -half-calabash, in lieu of a glass; and then applies cataplasms of -herbs,--orange-leaves, cinnamon-leaves, clove-leaves, _chardon-béni, -charpentier_, perhaps twenty other things, all mingled together;--this -poulticing being continued every day for a month. Meantime the patient -is given all sorts of absurd things to drink, in tafia and sour-orange -juice--such as old clay pipes ground to powder, or _the head of the -fer-de-lance itself_, roasted dry and pounded.... The plantation negro -has no faith in any other system of cure but that of the panseur;--he -refuses to let the physician try to save him, and will scarcely submit -to be treated even by an experienced white overseer.] - - - - -VI - - -... We enter the _grands-bois_,--the primitive forest,--the "high -woods." - -As seen with a field-glass from St. Pierre, these woods present only the -appearance of a band of moss belting the volcano, and following all its -corrugations,--so densely do the leafy crests intermingle. But on -actually entering them, you find yourself at once in green twilight, -among lofty trunks uprising everywhere like huge pillars wrapped with -vines;--and the inter-spaces between these bulks are all occupied by -lianas and parasitic creepers,--some monstrous,--veritable -parasite-trees,--ascending at all angles, or dropping straight down from -the tallest crests to take root again. The effect in the dim light is -that of innumerable black ropes and cables of varying thicknesses -stretched taut from the soil to the tree-tops, and also from branch to -branch, like rigging. There are rare and remarkable trees -here,--acomats, courbarils, balatas, ceibas or fromages, acajous, -gommiers;--hundreds have been cut down by charcoal-makers; but the -forest is still grand. It is to be regretted that the Government has -placed no restriction upon the barbarous destruction of trees by the -_charbonniers_, which is going on throughout the island. Many valuable -woods are rapidly disappearing. The courbaril, yielding a fine-grained, -heavy, chocolate-colored timber; the balata, giving a wood even heavier, -denser, and darker; the acajou, producing a rich red wood, with a strong -scent of cedar; the bois-de-fer; the bois d'Inde; the superb -acomat,--all used to flourish by tens of thousands upon these volcanic -slopes, whose productiveness is eighteen times greater than that of the -richest European soil. All Martinique furniture used to be made of -native woods; and the colored cabinet-makers still produce work which -would probably astonish New York or London manufacturers. But today the -island exports no more hard woods: it has even been found necessary to -import much from neighboring islands;--and yet the destruction of -forests still goes on. The domestic fabrication of charcoal from -forest-trees has been estimated at 1,400,000 hectolitres per annum. -Primitive forest still covers the island to the extent of 21.37 per -cent; but to find precious woods now, one must climb heights like those -of Pelée and Carbet, or penetrate into the mountains of the interior. - -Most common formerly on these slopes were the gommiers, from which -canoes of a single piece, forty-five feet long by seven wide, used to be -made. There are plenty of gommiers still; but the difficulty of -transporting them to the shore has latterly caused a demand for the -gommiers of Dominica. The dimensions of canoes now made from these trees -rarely exceed fifteen feet in length by eighteen inches in width: the -art of making them is an inheritance from the ancient Caribs. First the -trunk is shaped to the form of the canoe, and pointed at both ends; it -is then hollowed out. The width of the hollow does not exceed six inches -at the widest part; but the cavity is then filled with wet sand, which -in the course of some weeks widens the excavation by its weight, and -gives the boat perfect form. Finally gunwales of plank are fastened on; -seats are put in--generally four;--and no boat is more durable or more -swift. - - -... We climb. There is a trace rather than a footpath;--no visible soil, -only vegetable detritus, with roots woven over it in every direction. -The foot never rests on a flat surface,--only upon surfaces of roots; -and these are covered, like every protruding branch along the route, -with a slimy green moss, slippery as ice. Unless accustomed to walking -in tropical woods, one will fall at every step. In a little while I find -it impossible to advance. Our nearest guide, observing my predicament, -turns, and without moving the bundle upon his head, cuts and trims me an -excellent staff with a few strokes of his cutlass. This staff not only -saves pie from dangerous slips, but also serves at times to probe the -way; for the further we proceed, the vaguer the path becomes. It was -made by the _chasseurs-de-choux_ (cabbage-hunters),--the negro -mountaineers who live by furnishing heads of young cabbage-palm to the -city markets; and these men also keep it open,--otherwise the woods -would grow over it in a month. Two chasseurs-de-choux stride past as we -advance, with their freshly gathered palm-salad upon their heads, -wrapped in cachibou or balisier leaves, and tied with lianas. The -palmiste-franc reaches a stature of one hundred feet; but the young -trees are so eagerly sought for by the chasseurs-de-choux that in these -woods few reach a height of even twelve feet before being cut. - -... Walking becomes more difficult;--there seems no termination to the -grands-bois: always the same faint green light, the same rude natural -stair-way of slippery roots,--half the time hidden by fern leaves and -vines. Sharp ammoniacal scents are in the air; a dew, cold as ice-water, -drenches our clothing. Unfamiliar insects make trilling noises in dark -places; and now and then a series of soft clear notes ring out, almost -like a thrush's whistle: the chant of a little tree-frog. The path -becomes more and more overgrown; and but for the constant excursions of -the cabbage-hunters, we should certainly have to cutlass every foot of -the way through creepers and brambles. More and more amazing also is the -interminable interweaving of roots: the whole forest is thus spun -together--not underground so much as overground. These tropical trees do -not strike deep, although able to climb steep slopes of porphyry and -basalt: they send out great far-reaching webs of roots,--each such web -interknotting with others all round it, and these in turn with further -ones; while between their reticulations lianas ascend and descend: and a -nameless multitude of shrubs as tough as india-rubber push up, together -with mosses, grasses, and ferns. Square miles upon square miles of woods -are thus interlocked and interbound into one mass solid enough to resist -the pressure of a hurricane; and where there is no path already made, -entrance into them can only be effected by the most dexterous -cutlassing. - -An inexperienced stranger might be puzzled to understand how this -cutlassing is done. It is no easy feat to sever with one blow a liana -thick as a man's arm; the trained cutlasser does it without apparent -difficulty: moreover, he cuts horizontally, so as to prevent the severed -top presenting a sharp angle and proving afterwards dangerous. He never -appears to strike hard,--only give light taps with his blade, which -flickers continually about him as he moves. Our own guides in cutlassing -are not at all inconvenienced by their loads; they walk perfectly -upright, never stumble, never slip, never hesitate, and do not even seem -to perspire: their bare feet are prehensile. Some creoles in our party, -habituated to the woods, walk nearly as well in their shoes; but they -carry no loads. - -... At last we are rejoiced to observe that the trees are becoming -smaller;--there are no more colossal trunks;--there are frequent -glimpses of sky: the sun has risen well above the peaks, and sends -occasional beams down through the leaves. Ten minutes, and we reach a -clear space,--a wild savane, very steep, above which looms a higher belt -of woods. Here we take another short rest. - -Northward the view is cut off by a ridge covered with herbaceous -vegetation;--but to the south-west it is open, over a gorge of which -both sides are shrouded in sombre green--crests of trees forming a solid -curtain against the sun. Beyond the outer and lower cliff -valley-surfaces appear miles away, flinging up broad gleams of -cane-gold; further off greens disappear into blues, and the fantastic -masses of Carbet loom up far higher than before. St. Pierre, in a curve -of the coast, is a little red-and-yellow semicircular streak, less than -two inches long. The interspaces between far mountain chains,--masses of -pyramids, cones, single and double humps, queer blue angles as of raised -knees under coverings,--resemble misty lakes: they are filled with -brume;--the sea-line has vanished altogether. Only the horizon, -enormously heightened, can be discerned as a circling band of faint -yellowish light,--auroral, ghostly,--almost on a level with the tips of -the Pitons. Between this vague horizon and the shore, the sea no longer -looks like sea, but like a second hollow sky reversed. All the landscape -has unreal beauty:--there are no keen lines; there are no definite -beginnings or endings; the tints are half-colors only;--peaks rise -suddenly from mysteries of bluish fog as from a flood; land melts into -sea the same hue. It gives one the idea of some great aquarelle -unfinished,--abandoned before tones were deepened and details brought -out. - - - - -VII - - -We are overlooking from this height the birthplaces of several rivers; -and the rivers of Pelée are the clearest and the coolest of the island. - -From whatever direction the trip be undertaken, the ascent of the -volcano must be made over some one of those many immense ridges sloping -from the summit to the sea west, north, and east,--like buttresses eight -to ten miles long,--formed by ancient lava-torrents. Down the deep -gorges between them the cloud-fed rivers run,--receiving as they descend -the waters of countless smaller streams gushing from either side of the -ridge. There are also cold springs,--one of which furnishes St. Pierre -with her _Eau-de-Gouyave_ (guava-water), which is always sweet, clear, -and cool in the very hottest weather. But the water of almost every one -of the seventy-five principal rivers of Martinique is cool and clear and -sweet. And these rivers are curious in their way. Their average fall has -been estimated at nine inches to every six feet;--many are -cataracts;--the Rivière de Case-Navire has a fall of nearly 150 feet to -every fifty yards of its upper course. Naturally these streams cut for -themselves channels of immense depth. Where they flow through forests -and between monies, their banks vary from 1200 to 1600 feet high,--so as -to render their beds inaccessible; and many enter the sea through a -channel of rock with perpendicular walls from 150 to 200 feet high. -Their waters are necessarily shallow in normal weather; but during -rainstorms they become torrents thunderous and terrific beyond -description. In order to comprehend their sudden swelling, one must know -what tropical rain is. Col. Boyer Peyreleau, in 1823, estimated the -annual rainfall in these colonies at 150 inches on the coast, to 350 on -the mountains,--while the annual fall at Paris was only eighteen inches. -The character of such rain is totally different from that of rain in the -temperate zone: the drops are enormous, heavy like hailstones,--one will -spatter over the circumference of a saucer!--and the shower roars so -that people cannot hear each other speak without shouting. When there is -a true storm, no roofing seems able to shut out the cataract; the -best-built houses leak in all directions; and objects but a short -distance off become invisible behind the heavy curtain of water. The -ravages of such rain may be imagined! Roads are cut away in an hour; -trees are overthrown as if blown down;--for there are few West Indian -trees which plunge their roots even as low as two feet; they merely -extend them over a large diameter; and isolated trees will actually -slide under rain. The swelling of rivers is so sudden that washer-women -at work in the Roxelane and other streams have been swept away and -drowned without the least warning of their danger; the shower occurring -seven or eight miles off. - -Most of these rivers are well stocked with fish, of which the _tétart, -banane, loche_, and _dormeur_ are the principal varieties. The tétart -(best of all) and the loche climb the torrents to the height of 2500 and -even 3000 feet: they have a kind of pneumatic sucker, which enables them -to cling to rocks. Under stones in the lower basins crawfish of the most -extraordinary size are taken; some will measure thirty-six inches from -claw to tail. And at all the river-mouths, during July and August, are -caught vast numbers of _titiri_[35],--tiny white fish, of which a -thousand might be put into one teacup. They are delicious when served in -oil,--infinitely more delicate than the sardine. Some regard them as a -particular species: others believe them to be only the fry of larger -fish,--as their periodical appearance and disappearance would seem to -indicate. They are often swept by millions into the city of St. Pierre, -with the flow of mountain-water which purifies the streets: -then you will see them swarming in the gutters, fountains, and -bathing-basins;--and on Saturdays, when the water is temporarily shut -off to allow of the pipes being cleansed, the titiri may die in the -gutters in such numbers as to make the air offensive. - -The mountain-crab, celebrated for its periodical migrations, is also -found at considerable heights. Its numbers appear to have been -diminished extraordinarily by its consumption as an article of negro -diet; but in certain islands those armies of crabs described by the old -writers are still occasionally to be seen. The Père Du Tertre relates -that in 1640, at St. Christophe, thirty sick emigrants, temporarily left -on the beach, were attacked and devoured alive during the night by a -similar species of crab. "They descended from the mountains in such -multitude," he tells us, "that they were heaped higher than houses over -the bodies of the poor wretches... whose bones were picked so clean that -not one speck of flesh could be found upon them."... - - -[Footnote 35: The sheet-lightnings which play during the nights -of July and August are termed in creole _Zéclai-tiriri_, or -"titiri-lightnings";--it is believed these give notice that the titiri -have begun to swarm in the rivers. Among the colored population there -exists an idea of some queer relation between the lightning and the -birth of the little fish;--it is commonly said, "Zéclai-à ka fai yo -écloré" (the lightning hatches them).] - - - - -VIII - - -... We enter the upper belt of woods--green twilight again. There are as -many lianas as ever: but they are less massive in stem;--the trees, -which are stunted, stand closer together; and the web-work of roots is -finer and more thickly spun. These are called the _petits-bois_ (little -woods), in contradistinction to the grands-bois, or high woods. -Multitudes of balisiers, dwarf-palms, arborescent ferns, wild guavas, -mingle with the lower growths on either side of the path, which has -narrowed to the breadth of a wheel-rut, and is nearly concealed by -protruding grasses and fern leaves. Never does the sole of the foot -press upon a surface large as itself,--always the slippery backs of -roots crossing at all angles, like loop-traps, over sharp fragments of -volcanic rock or pumice-stone. There are abrupt descents, sudden -acclivities, mud-holes, and fissures;--one grasps at the ferns on both -sides to keep from falling; and some ferns are spiked sometimes on the -under surface, and tear the hands. But the barefooted guides stride on -rapidly, erect as ever under their loads,--chopping off with their -cutlasses any branches that hang low. There are beautiful flowers -here,--various unfamiliar species of lobelia;--pretty red and yellow -blossoms belonging to plants which the creole physician calls -_Bromeliaceœ_; and a plant like the _Guy Lussacia_ of Brazil, with -violet-red petals. There is an indescribable multitude of ferns,--a very -museum of ferns! The doctor, who is a great woodsman, says that he never -makes a trip to the hills without finding some new kind of fern; and he -had already a collection of several hundred. - -The route is continually growing steeper, and makes a number of turns -and windings: we reach another bit of savane, where we have to walk over -black-pointed stones that resemble slag;--then more petits-bois, still -more dwarfed, then another opening. The naked crest of the volcano -appears like a peaked precipice, dark-red, with streaks of green, over a -narrow but terrific chasm on the left: we are almost on a level with the -crater, but must make a long circuit to reach it, through a wilderness -of stunted timber and bush. The creoles call this undergrowth _razié_: -it is really only a prolongation of the low jungle which carpets the -high forests below, with this difference, that there are fewer creepers -and much more fern.... Suddenly we reach a black gap in the path about -thirty inches wide--half hidden by the tangle of leaves,--_La Fente._ It -is a volcanic fissure which divides the whole ridge, and is said to have -no bottom: for fear of a possible slip, the guides insist upon holding -our hands while we cross it. Happily there are no more such clefts; but -there are mud-holes, snags, roots, and loose rocks beyond counting. -Least disagreeable are the _boubiers_, in which you sink to your knees -in black or gray slime. Then the path descends into open light -again;--and we find ourselves at the Étang,--in the dead Crater of the -Three Palmistes. - - -An immense pool, completely encircled by high green walls of rock, which -shut out all further view, and shoot up, here and there, into cones, or -rise into queer lofty humps and knobs. One of these elevations at the -opposite side has almost the shape of a blunt horn: it is the Morne de -la Croix. The scenery is at once imposing and sinister: the shapes -towering above the lake and reflected in its still surface have the -weirdness of things seen in photographs of the moon. Clouds are circling -above them and between them;--one descends to the water, haunts us a -moment, blurring everything; then rises again. We have travelled too -slow; the clouds have had time to gather. - -I look in vain for the Three Palmistes which gave the crater a name: -they were destroyed long ago. But there are numbers of young ones -scattered through the dense ferny covering of the lake-slopes,--just -showing their heads like bunches of great dark-green feathers. - ---The estimate of Dr. Rufz, made in 1851, and the estimate of the last -"Annuaire" regarding the circumference of the lake, are evidently both -at fault. That of the "Annuaire," 150 metres, is a gross error: the -writer must have meant the diameter,--following Rufz, who estimated the -circumference at something over 300 paces. As we find it, the Étang, -which is nearly circular, must measure 200 yards across;--perhaps it has -been greatly swollen by the extraordinary rains of this summer. Our -guides say that the little iron cross projecting from the water about -two yards off was high and dry on the shore last season. At present -there is only one narrow patch of grassy bank on which we can rest, -between the water and the walls of the crater. - -The lake is perfectly clear, with a bottom of yellowish shallow mud, -which rests--according to investigations made in 1851--upon a mass of -pumice-stone mixed in places with ferruginous sand; and the yellow mud -itself is a detritus of pumice-stone. We strip for a swim. - -Though at an elevation of nearly 5000 feet, this water is not so cold as -that of the Roxelane, nor of other rivers of the north-west and -north-east coasts. It has an agreeable fresh taste, like dew. Looking -down into it, I see many lame of the maringouin, or large mosquito: no -fish. The maringouins themselves are troublesome,--whirring around us -and stinging. On striking out for the middle, one is surprised to feel -the water growing slightly warmer. The committee of investigation in -1851 found the temperature of the lake, in spite of a north wind, 20.5 -Centigrade, while that of the air was but 19 (about 69 F. for the water, -and 66.2 for the air). The depth in the centre is over six feet; the -average is scarcely four. - -Regaining the bank, we prepare to ascend the Morne de la Croix. The -circular path by which it is commonly reached is now under water; and we -have to wade up to our waists. All the while clouds keep passing over us -in great slow whirls. Some are white and half-transparent; others opaque -and dark gray;--a dark cloud passing through a white one looks like a -goblin. Gaining the opposite shore, we find a very rough path over -splintered stone, ascending between the thickest fern-growths possible -to imagine. The general tone of this fern is dark green; but there are -paler cloudings of yellow and pink,--due to the varying age of the -leaves, which are pressed into a cushion three or four feet high, and -almost solid enough to sit upon. About two hundred and fifty yards from -the crater edge, the path rises above this tangle, and zigzags up the -morne, which now appears twice as lofty as from the lake, where we had a -curiously foreshortened view of it. It then looked scarcely a hundred -feet high; it is more than double that. The cone is green to the top -with moss, low grasses, small fern, and creeping pretty plants, like -violets, with big carmine flowers. The path is a black line: the rock -laid bare by it looks as if burned to the core. We have now to use our -hands in climbing; but the low thick ferns give a good hold. Out of -breath, and drenched in perspiration, we reach the apex,--the highest -point of the island. But we are curtained about with clouds,--moving in -dense white and gray masses: we cannot see fifty feet away. - -The top of the peak has a slightly slanting surface of perhaps twenty -square yards, very irregular in outline;--southwardly the morne pitches -sheer into a frightful chasm, between the converging of two of those -long corrugated ridges already described as buttressing the volcano on -all sides. Through a cloud-rift we can see another crater-lake twelve -hundred feet below--said to be five times larger than the Étang we have -just left: it is also of more irregular outline. This is called the -_Étang Sec_, or "Dry Pool," because dry in less rainy seasons. It -occupies a more ancient crater, and is very rarely visited: the path -leading to it is difficult and dangerous,--a natural ladder of roots and -lianas over a series of precipices. Behind us the Crater of the Three -Palmistes now looks no larger than the surface on which we stand;--over -its further boundary we can see the wall of another gorge, in which -there is a third crater-lake. West and north are green peakings, ridges, -and high lava walls steep as fortifications. All this we can only note -in the intervals between passing of clouds. As yet there is no landscape -visible southward;--we sit down and wait. - - - - -IX - - -... Two crosses are planted nearly at the verge of the precipice; a -small one of iron; and a large one of wood--probably the same put up by -the Abbé Lespinasse during the panic of 1851, after the eruption. This -has been splintered to pieces by a flash of lightning; and the fragments -are clumsily united with cord. There is also a little tin plate let into -a slit in a black post: it bears a date,--_8 Avril, 1867_.... The -volcanic vents, which were active in 1851, are not visible from the -peak: they are in the gorge descending from it, at a point nearly on a -level with the Étang Sec. - -The ground gives out a peculiar hollow sound when tapped, and is covered -with a singular lichen,--all composed of round overlapping leaves about -one-eighth of an inch in diameter, pale green, and tough as fish-scales. -Here and there one sees a beautiful branching growth, like a mass of -green coral: it is a gigantic moss. _Cabane-Jésus_ ("bed-of-Jesus") the -patois name is: at Christmas-time, in all the churches, those decorated -cribs in which the image of the Child-Saviour is laid are filled with -it. The creeping crimson violet is also here. Fire-flies with -bronze-green bodies are crawling about;--I notice also small frogs, -large gray crickets, and a species of snail with a black shell. A -solitary humming-bird passes, with a beautiful blue head, flaming like -sapphire. - -All at once the peak vibrates to a tremendous sound from somewhere -below.... It is only a peal of thunder; but it startled at first, -because the mountain rumbles and grumbles occasionally.... From the -wilderness of ferns about the lake a sweet long low whistle -comes--three times;--a _siffleur-de-montagne_ has its nest there. - -There is a rain-storm over the woods beneath us: clouds now hide -everything but the point on which we rest; the crater of the Palmistes -becomes invisible. But it is only for a little while that we are thus -befogged: a wind conies, blows the clouds over us, lifts them up and -folds them like a drapery, and slowly whirls them away northward. And -for the first time the view is clear over the intervening gorge,--now -spanned by the rocket-leap of a perfect rainbow. - -... Valleys and mornes, peaks and ravines,--succeeding each other -swiftly as surge succeeds surge in a storm,--a weirdly tossed world, but -beautiful as it is weird: all green the foreground, with all tints of -green, shadowing off to billowy distances of purest blue. The sea-line -remains invisible as ever: you know where it is only by the zone of pale -light ringing the double sphericity of sky and ocean. And in this double -blue void the island seems to hang suspended: far peaks seem to come up -from nowhere, to rest on nothing--like forms of mirage. Useless to -attempt photography;--distances take the same color as the sea. -Vauclin's truncated mass is recognizable only by the shape of its indigo -shadows. All is vague, vertiginous;--the land still seems to quiver with -the prodigious forces that upheaved it. - -High over all this billowing and peaking tower the Pitons of Carbet, -gem-violet through the vapored miles,--the tallest one filleted with a -single soft white band of cloud. Through all the wonderful chain of the -Antilles you might seek in vain for other peaks exquisite of form as -these. Their beauty no less surprises the traveller to-day than it did -Columbus three hundred and eighty-six years ago, when--on the thirteenth -day of June, 1502--his caravel first sailed into sight of them, and he -asked his Indian guide the name of the unknown land, and the names of -those marvellous shapes. Then, according to Pedro Martyr de Anghiera, -the Indian answered that the name of the island was Madiana; that those -peaks had been venerated from immemorial time by the ancient peoples of -the archipelago as the birthplace of the human race; and that the first -brown habitants of Madiana, having been driven from their natural -heritage by the man-eating pirates of the south--the cannibal -Caribs,--remembered and mourned for their sacred mountains, and gave the -names of them, for a memory, to the loftiest summits of their new -home,--Hayti.... Surely never was fairer spot hallowed by the legend of -man's nursing-place than the valley blue-shadowed by those -peaks,--worthy, for their gracious femininity of shape, to seem the -visible breasts of the All-nourishing Mother,--dreaming under this -tropic sun. - -Touching the zone of pale light north-east, appears a beautiful peaked -silhouette,--Dominica. We had hoped to perceive Saint Lucia; but the -atmosphere is too heavily charged with vapor to-day. How magnificent -must be the view on certain extraordinary days, when it reaches from -Antigua to the Grenadines--over a range of three hundred miles! But the -atmospheric conditions which allow of such a spectacle are rare indeed. -As a general rule, even in the most unclouded West Indian weather, the -loftiest peaks fade into the light at a distance of one hundred miles. - -A sharp ridge covered with fern cuts off the view of the northern -slopes: one must climb it to look down upon Macouba. Macouba occupies -the steepest slope of Pelée, and the grimmest part of the coast: its -little _chef-lieu_ is industrially famous for the manufacture of native -tobacco, and historically for the ministrations of Père Labat, who -rebuilt its church. Little change has taken place in the parish since -his time. "Do you know Macouba?" asks a native writer;--"it is not -Pelion upon Ossa, but ten or twelve Pelions side by side with ten or -twelve Ossæ, interseparated by prodigious ravines. Men can speak to -each other from places whence, by rapid walking, it would require hours -to meet;--to travel there is to experience on dry land the sensation of -the sea." - -With the diminution of the warmth provoked by the exertion of climbing, -you begin to notice how cool it feels;--you could almost doubt the -testimony of your latitude. Directly east is Senegambia: we are well -south of Timbuctoo and the Sahara,--on a line with southern India. The -ocean has cooled the winds; at this altitude the rarity of the air is -northern; but in the valleys below the vegetation is African. The best -alimentary plants, the best forage, the flowers of the gardens, are of -Guinea;--the graceful date-palms are from the Atlas region: those -tamarinds, whose thick shade stifles all other vegetal life beneath it, -are from Senegal. Only, in the touch of the air, the vapory colors of -distance, the shapes of the hills, there is a something not of Africa: -that strange fascination which has given to the island its poetic creole -name,--_le Pays des Revenants._ And the charm is as puissant in our own -day as it was more than two hundred years ago, when Père Du Tertre -wrote:--"I have never met one single man, nor one single woman, of all -those who came back therefrom, in whom I have not remarked a most -passionate desire to return thereunto." - -Time and familiarity do not weaken the charm, either for those born -among these scenes who never voyaged beyond their native island, or for -those to whom the streets of Paris and the streets of St. Pierre are -equally well known. Even at a time when Martinique had been forsaken by -hundreds of her ruined planters, and the paradise-life of the old days -had become only a memory to embitter exile,--a Creole writes:-- - ---"Let there suddenly open before you one of those vistas, or anses, -with colonnades of cocoa-palm--at the end of which you see smoking the -chimney of a sugar-mill, and catch a glimpse of the hamlet of negro -cabins (_cases_);--or merely picture to yourself one of the most -ordinary, most trivial scenes: nets being hauled by two ranks of -fishermen; a canot waiting for the embellie to make a dash for the -beach; even a negro bending under the weight of a basket of fruits, and -running along the shore to get to market;--and illuminate that with the -light of our sun! What landscapes!--O Salvator Rosa! O Claude -Lorrain,--if I had your pencil!... Well do I remember the day on which, -after twenty years of absence, I found myself again in presence of these -wonders;--I feel once more the thrill of delight that made all my body -tremble, the tears that came to my eyes. It was my land, my own land, -that appeared so beautiful."...[36] - - -[Footnote 36: Dr. E. Rufz: "Études historiques," vol. I, p. 180.] - - - - -X - - -At the beginning, while gazing south, east, west, to the rim of the -world, all laughed, shouted, interchanged the quick delight of new -impressions: every face was radiant.... Now all look serious;--none -speak. The first physical joy of finding oneself on this point in violet -air, exalted above the hills, soon yields to other emotions inspired by -the mighty vision and the colossal peace of the heights. Dominating all, -I think, is the consciousness of the awful antiquity of what one is -looking upon,--such a sensation, perhaps, as of old found utterance in -that tremendous question of the Book of Job:--"_Wast thou brought forth -before the hills?_" - - -[Illustration: RUINS, ST. PIERRE -_Decked out with flowers grayed by the passing years, -these crumbling walls look immeasurably old._] - - -... And the blue multitude of the peaks, the perpetual congregation of -the mornes, seem to chorus in the vast resplendence,--telling of -Nature's eternal youth, and the passionless permanence of that about us -and beyond us and beneath,--until something like the fulness of a great -grief begins to weigh at the heart.... For all this astonishment of -beauty, all this majesty of light and form and color, will surely -endure,--marvellous as now,--after we shall have lain down to sleep -where no dreams come, and may never arise from the dust of our rest to -look upon it. - - -[Illustration] - - - - -'TI CANOTIÉ - - -I - - -One might almost say that commercial time in St. Pierre is measured by -cannon-shots,--by the signal-guns of steamers. Every such report -announces an event of extreme importance to the whole population. To the -merchant it is a notification that mails, money, and goods have -arrived;--to consuls and Government officials it gives notice of fees -and dues to be collected;--for the host of lightermen, longshoremen, -port laborers of all classes, it promises work and pay;--for all it -signifies the arrival of food. The island does not feed itself: cattle, -salt meats, hams, lard, flour, cheese, dried fish, all come from -abroad,--particularly from America. And in the minds of the colored -population the American steamer is so intimately associated with the -idea of those great tin cans in which food-stuffs are brought from the -United States, that the onomatope applied to the can, because of the -sound outgiven by it when tapped,--_bom!_--is also applied to the ship -itself. The English or French or Belgian steamer, however large, -is only known as _packett-à, batiment-là_; but the American -steamer is always the "bom-ship"--_batiment-bom-à_; or, the -"food-ship"--_batiment-mangé-à._ ... You hear women and men asking -each other, as the shock of the gun flaps through all the town, "_Mil -godé ça qui là, chè?_" And if the answer be, "_Mais c'est bom-là, -chè,--bom-mangé-à ka rivé_" (Why, it is the bom, dear,--the food-bom -that has come), great is the exultation. - -Again, because of the sound of her whistle, we find a steamer called in -this same picturesque idiom, _batiment-cône_,--"the horn-ship." There -is even a song, of which the refrain is:-- - - -"Bom-là rivé, chè,-- -Batiment-cône-là rivé." - - -... But of all the various classes of citizens, those most joyously -excited by the coming of a great steamer, whether she be a "bom" or -not,--are the '_ti canotié_, who swarm out immediately in little canoes -of their own manufacture to dive for coins which passengers gladly throw -into the water for the pleasure of witnessing the graceful spectacle. No -sooner does a steamer drop anchor--unless the water be very rough -indeed--than she is surrounded by a fleet of the funniest little boats -imaginable, full of naked urchins screaming creole. - - -These _'ti canotié_--these little canoe-boys and professional -divers--are, for the most part, sons of boatmen of color, the real -canotiers. I cannot find who first invented the '_ti canot_: the shape -and dimensions of the little canoe are fixed according to a tradition -several generations old; and no improvements upon the original model -seem to have ever been attempted, with the sole exception of a tiny -water-tight box contrived sometimes at one end, in which the _palettes_, -or miniature paddles, and various other trifles may be stowed away. The -actual cost of material for a canoe of this kind seldom exceeds -twenty-five or thirty cents; and, nevertheless, the number of canoes is -not very large--I doubt if there be more than fifteen in the harbor;--as -the families of Martinique boatmen are all so poor that twenty-five sous -are difficult to spare, in spite of the certainty that the little son -can earn fifty times the amount within a month after owning a canoe. - -For the manufacture of a canoe an American lard-box or kerosene-oil box -is preferred by reason of its shape; but any well-constructed -shipping-case of small size would serve the purpose. The top is removed; -the sides and the corners of the bottom are sawn out at certain angles; -and the pieces removed are utilized for the sides of the bow and -stern,--sometimes also in making the little box for the paddles, or -palettes, which are simply thin pieces of tough wood about the form and -size of a cigar-box lid. Then the little boat is tarred and varnished: -it cannot sink,--though it is quite easily upset. There are no seats. -The boys (there are usually two to each canot) simply squat down in the -bottom,--facing each other. They can paddle with surprising swiftness -over a smooth sea; and it is a very pretty sight to witness one of their -prize contests in racing,--which take place every 14th of July.... - - - - -II - - -... It was five o'clock in the afternoon: the horizon beyond the harbor -was turning lemon-color;--and a thin warm wind began to come in weak -puffs from the south-west,--the first breaths to break the immobility of -the tropical air. Sails of vessels becalmed at the entrance of the bay -commenced to flap lazily: they might belly after sundown. - -The _La Guayra_ was in port, lying well out: her mountainous iron mass -rising high above the modest sailing craft moored in her -vicinity,--barks and brigantines and brigs and schooners and -barkentines. She had lain before the town the whole afternoon, -surrounded by the entire squadron of canots; and the boys were still -circling about her flanks, although she had got up steam and was lifting -her anchor. They had been very lucky, indeed, that afternoon,--all the -little canotiers;--and even many yellow lads, not fortunate enough to -own canoes, had swum out to her in hope of sharing the silver shower -falling from her saloon-deck. Some of these, tired out, were resting -themselves by sitting on the slanting cables of neighboring ships. -Perched naked thus,--balancing in the sun, against the blue of sky or -water, their slender bodies took such orange from the mellowing light as -to seem made of some self-luminous substance,--flesh of sea-fairies.... - -Suddenly the _La Guayra_ opened her steam-throat and uttered such a moo -that all the mornes cried out for at least a minute after;--and the -little fellows perched on the cables of the sailing craft tumbled into -the sea at the sound and struck out for shore. Then the water all at -once burst backward in immense frothing swirls from beneath the stem of -the steamer; and there arose such a heaving as made all the little -canoes dance. The _La Guayra_ was moving. She moved slowly at first, -making a great fuss as she turned round: then she began to settle down -to her journey very majestically,--just making the water pitch a little -behind her, as the hem of a woman's robe tosses lightly at her heels -while she walks. - -And, contrary to custom, some of the canoes followed after her. A dark -handsome man, wearing an immense Panama hat, and jewelled rings upon his -hands, was still throwing money; and still the boys dived for it. But -only one of each crew now plunged; for, though the _La Guayra_ was yet -moving slowly, it was a severe strain to follow her, and there was no -time to be lost. - -The captain of the little band--black Maximilien, ten years old, and his -comrade Stéphane--nicknamed _Ti Chabin_, because of his bright hair,--a -slim little yellow boy of eleven--led the pursuit, crying always, -"_Encò, Missié,--encò!_"... - -The _La Guayra_ had gained fully two hundred yards when the handsome -passenger made his final largess,--proving himself quite an expert in -flinging coin. The piece fell far short of the boys, but near enough to -distinctly betray a yellow shimmer as it twirled to the water. That was -gold! - -In another minute the leading canoe had reached the spot, the other -canotiers voluntarily abandoning the quest,--for it was little use to -contend against Maximilien and Stéphane, who had won all the canoe -contests last 14th of July. Stéphane, who was the better diver, -plunged. - -He was much longer below than usual, came up at quite a distance, panted -as he regained the canoe, and rested his arms upon it. The water was so -deep there, he could not reach the coin the first time, though he could -see it: he was going to try again,--it was gold, sure enough. - ---"_Fouinq! ça fond içitt!_" he gasped. - -Maximilien felt all at once uneasy. Very deep water, and perhaps sharks. -And sunset not far off! The _La Guayra_ was diminishing in the offing. - ---"_Boug-là 'lé fai nou néyé!--laissé y, Stéphane!_" he cried. -(The fellow wants to drown us. _Laissé_--leave it alone.) - -But Stéphane had recovered breath, and was evidently resolved to try -again. It was gold! - ---"_Mais ça c'est lò!_" - ---"_Assez, non!_" screamed Maximilien. "_Pa plongé ncò, moin ka di ou! -Ah! foute!_"... - -Stéphane had dived again! - -... And where were the others? "_Bon-Dié, gadé oti yo yé!_" They were -almost out of sight,--tiny specks moving shoreward.... The _La Guayra_ -now seemed no bigger than the little packet running between St. Pierre -and Fort-de-France. - -Up came Stéphane again, at a still greater distance than -before,--holding high the yellow coin in one hand. He made for the -canoe, and Maximilien paddled towards him and helped him in. Blood was -streaming from the little diver's nostrils, and blood colored the water -he spat from his mouth. - ---"_Ah! moin té ka di ou laissé y!_" cried Maximilien, in anger and -alarm.... "_Gàdé, godé sang-à ka coulé nans nez ou,--nans bouche -ou!... Mi oti lézautt!_" - -_Lézautt_, the rest, were no longer visible. - ---"_Et mi oti nou yé!_" cried Maximilien again. They had never ventured -so far from shore. - -But Stéphane answered only, "_C'est lò!_" For the first time in his -life he held a piece of gold in his fingers. He tied it up in a little -rag attached to the string fastened about his waist,--a purse of his own -invention,--and took up his paddles, coughing the while and spitting -crimson. - ---"_Mi! mi!--mi oti nou yé!_" reiterated Maximilien. "_Bon-Dié!_ look -where we are!" - -The Place had become indistinct;--the light-house, directly behind half -an hour earlier, now lay well south: the red light had just been -kindled. Seaward, in advance of the sinking orange disk of the sun, was -the _La Guayra_, passing to the horizon. There was no sound from the -shore: about them a great silence had gathered,--the Silence of seas, -which is a fear. Panic seized them: they began to paddle furiously. - -But St. Pierre did not appear to draw any nearer. Was it only an effect -of the dying light, or were they actually moving towards the -semicircular cliffs of Fond-Corré?... Maximilien began to cry. The -little chabin paddled on,--though the blood was still trickling over his -breast. - -Maximilien screamed out to him:-- - ---"_Ou pa ka pagayé,--anh?--ou ni bousoin demi?_?" (Thou dost not -paddle, eh?--thou wouldst go to sleep?) - ---"_Si! moin ka pagayé,--epi fò!_" (I am paddling, and hard, too!) -responded Stéphane.... - ---"_Ou ka pagayé!--ou ka menti!_" (Thou art paddling!--thou liest!) -vociferated Maximilien.... "And the fault is all thine. I cannot, all by -myself, make the canoe to go in water like this! The fault is all thine: -I told thee not to dive, thou stupid!" - ---"_Ou fou!_" cried Stéphane, becoming angry. "_Moin ka pagayé!_" (I -am paddling.) - ---"Beast! never may we get home so! Paddle, thou lazy;--paddle, thou -nasty!" - ---"_Macaque_ thou!--monkey!" - ---"_Chabin!_--must be chabin, for to be stupid so!" - ---"Thou black monkey!--thou species of _ouistiti!_" - ---"Thou tortoise-of-the-land!--thou slothful more than _molocoye!_" - ---"Why, thou cursed monkey, if thou sayest I do not paddle, thou dost -not know how to paddle!"... - -... But Maximilien's whole expression changed: he suddenly stopped -paddling, and stared before him and behind him at a great violet band -broadening across the sea northward out of sight; and his eyes were big -with terror as he cried out:-- - ---"_Mais ni qui chose qui douôle içitt!_... There is something queer, -Stéphane; there is something queer."... - ---"Ah! you begin to see now, Maximilien!--it is the current!" - ---"A devil-current, Stéphane.... We are drifting: we will go to the -horizon!"... - -To the horizon--"_nou kallé Ihorizon!_"--a phrase of terrible -picturesqueness.... In the creole tongue, "to the horizon" signifies to -the Great Open--into the measureless sea. - ---"_C'est pa lapeine pagayé atouèlement!_" (It is no use to paddle -now), sobbed Maximilien, laying down his palettes. - ---"_Si! si!_" said Stéphane, reversing the motion: "paddle with the -current." - ---"With the current! It runs to La Dominique!" - ---"_Pouloss_," phlegmatically returned Stéphane,--"_ennou!_--let us -make for La Dominique!" - ---"Thou fool!--it is more than past forty kilometres.... _Stéphane, -mi! gadé!--mi qui gouôs requ'em!_" - -A long black fin cut the water almost beside them, passed, and -vanished,--a requin indeed! But, in his patois, the boy almost re-echoed -the name as uttered by quaint Père Du Tertre, who, writing of strange -fishes more than two hundred years ago, says it is called REQUIEM, -because for the man who findeth himself alone with it in the midst of -the sea, surely a requiem must be sung. - ---"Do not paddle, Stéphane!--do not put thy hand in the water again!" - - - - -III - - -... The _La Guayra_ was a point on the sky-verge;--the sun's face had -vanished. The silence and the darkness were deepening together. - ---"_Si lanmè ka vini plis fò, ça nou ké fai?_" (If the sea roughens, -what are we to do?) asked Maximilien. - ---"Maybe we will meet a steamer," answered Stéphane: "the _Orinoco_ was -due to-day." - ---"And if she pass in the night?" - ---"They can see us."... - ---"No, they will not be able to see us at all. There is no moon." - ---"They have lights ahead." - ---"I tell thee, they will not see us at all,--_pièss! pièss!_" - ---"Then they will hear us cry out." - ---"No,--we cannot cry so loud. One can hear nothing but a steam-whistle -or a cannon, with the noise of the wind and the water and the -machine.... Even on the Fort-de-France packet one cannot hear for the -machine. And the machine of the _Orinoco_ is more big than the church of -the 'Centre.'" - ---"Then we must try to get to La Dominique." - -... They could now feel the sweep of the mighty current;--it even seemed -to them that they could hear it,--a deep low whispering. At long -intervals they saw lights,--the lights of houses in Pointe-Prince, in -Fond-Canonville,--in Au Prêcheur. Under them the depth was -unfathomed:--hydrographic charts mark it _sans-fond._ And they passed -the great cliffs of Aux Abymes, under which lies the Village of the -Abysms. - -The red glare in the west disappeared suddenly as if blown out;--the rim -of the sea vanished into the void of the gloom;--the night narrowed -about them, thickening like a black fog. And the invisible, irresistible -power of the sea was now bearing them away from the tall coast,--over -profundities unknown,--over the _sans-fond_,--out "to the horizon." - - - - -IV - - -... Behind the canoe a long thread of pale light quivered and twisted: -bright points from time to time mounted up, glowered like eyes, and -vanished again;--glimmerings of faint flame wormed away on either side -as they floated on. And the little craft no longer rocked as -before;--they felt another and a larger motion,--long slow ascents and -descents enduring for minutes at a time;--they were riding the great -swells,--_riding the horizon!_ - -Twice they were capsized. But happily the heaving was a smooth one, and -their little canoe could not sink: they groped for it, found it, righted -it, and climbed in, and baled out the water with their hands. - -From time to time they both cried out together, as loud as they -could,--"_Sucou!--sucou!--sucou!_"--hoping that some one might be -looking for them.... The alarm had indeed been given; and one of the -little steam-packets had been sent out to look for them,--with -torch-fires blazing at her bows; but she had taken the wrong direction. - ---"Maximilien," said Stéphane, while the great heaving seemed to grow -vaster,--"_fau nou ka prié Bon-Dié._"... - -Maximilien answered nothing. - ---"_Fau prié Bon-Dié_" (We must pray to the Bon-Dié), repeated -Stéphane. - ---"_Pa lapeine, li pas pè ouè nou atò!_" (It is not worth while: He -cannot see us now) answered the little black. - -... In the immense darkness even the loom of the island was no longer -visible. - ---"O Maximilien!--_Bon-Dié ka ouè toutt, ha connaitt toutt_" (He sees -all; He knows all), cried Stéphane. - ---"_Y pa pè ouè non pièss atouèlement, moin ben sur!_" (He cannot -see us at all now,--I am quite sure) irreverently responded -Maximilien.... - ---"Thou thinkest the Bon-Dié like thyself!--He has not eyes like thou," -protested Stéphane. "_Li pas ka tiny coulé; li pas ka tini zié_" (He -has not color; He has not eyes), continued the boy, repeating the text -of his catechism,--the curious creole catechism of old Perè Goux, of -Carbet. [Quaint priest and quaint catechism have both passed away.] - ---"_Moin pa save si li pa ka tini coulè_" (I know not if He has not -color), answered Maximilien. "But what I well know is that if He has not -eyes. He cannot see.... _Fouinq!_--how idiot!" - ---"Why, it is in the Catechism," cried Stéphane.... "'_Bon-Dié, li -conm vent: vent tout-patout, et nou pa save ouè li;--li ka touché -nou,--li ka boulvésé lamnè._" (The Good-God is like the Wind: the -Wind is everywhere, and we cannot see It;--It touches us,--It tosses the -sea.) - ---"If the Bon-Dié is the Wind," responded Maximilien, "then pray thou -the Wind to stay quiet." - ---"The Bon-Dié is not the Wind," cried Stéphane: "He is like the Wind, -but He is not the Wind."... - ---"_Ah! soc-soc!--fouinq!_... More better past praying to care we be -not upset again and eaten by sharks." - -* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - - -... Whether the little chabin prayed either to the Wind or to the -Bon-Dié, I do not know. But the Wind remained very quiet all that -night,--seemed to hold its breath for fear of ruffling the sea. And in -the Mouillage of St. Pierre furious American captains swore at the Wind -because it would not fill their sails. - - - - -V - - -Perhaps, if there had been a breeze, neither Stéphane nor Maximilien -would have seen the sun again. But they saw him rise. - -Light pearled in the east, over the edge of the ocean, ran around the -rim of the sky and yellowed: then the sun's brow appeared;--a current of -gold gushed rippling across the sea before him;--and all the heaven at -once caught blue fire from horizon to zenith. Violet from flood to cloud -the vast recumbent form of Pelée loomed far behind,--with long reaches -of mountaining: pale grays o'ertopping misty blues. And in the north -another lofty shape was towering,--strangely jagged and peaked and -beautiful,--the silhouette of Dominica: a sapphire saw!... No wandering -clouds:--over far Pelée only a shadowy piling of nimbi.... Under them -the sea swayed dark as purple ink--a token of tremendous depth.... Still -a dead calm, and no sail in sight. - ---"_Ça c'est la Dominique_," said Maximilien,--"_Ennou pou -ouivage-à!_" - -They had lost their little palettes during the night;--they used their -naked hands, and moved swiftly. But Dominica was many and many a mile -away. Which was the nearer island, it was yet difficult to say;--in the -morning sea-haze, both were vapory,--difference of color was largely due -to position.... - -_Sough!--sough!--sough!_--A bird with a white breast passed overhead; -and they stopped paddling to look at it,--a gull. Sign of fair -weather!--it was making for Dominica. - ---"_Moin ni ben faim_," murmured Maximilien. Neither had eaten since the -morning of the previous day,--most of which they had passed sitting in -their canoe. - ---"_Moin ni anni soif_," said Stéphane. And besides his thirst he -complained of a burning pain in his head, always growing worse. He still -coughed, and spat out pink threads after each burst of coughing. - -The heightening sun flamed whiter and whiter: the flashing of waters -before his face began to dazzle like a play of lightning.... Now the -islands began to show sharper lines, stronger colors; and Dominica was -evidently the nearer;--for bright streaks of green were breaking at -various angles through its vapor-colored silhouette, and Martinique -still remained all blue. - -... Hotter and hotter the sun burned; more and more blinding became his -reverberation. Maximilien's black skin suffered least; but both lads, -accustomed as they were to remaining naked in the sun, found the heat -difficult to bear. They would gladly have plunged into the deep water to -cool themselves, but for fear of sharks;--all they could do was to -moisten their heads, and rinse their mouths with sea-water. - -Each from his end of the canoe continually watched the horizon. Neither -hoped for a sail, there was no wind; but they looked for the coining of -steamers,--the _Orinoco_ might pass, or the English packet, or some one -of the small Martinique steamboats might be sent out to find them. - -Yet hours went by; and there still appeared no smoke in the ring of the -sky,--never a sign in all the round of the sea, broken only by the two -huge silhouettes.... But Dominica was certainly nearing;--the green -lights were spreading through the luminous blue of her hills. - -... Their long immobility in the squatting posture began to tell upon -the endurance of both boys,--producing dull throbbing aches in thighs, -hips, and loins.... Then, about mid-day, Stéphane declared he could -not paddle any more;--it seemed to him as if his head must soon burst -open with the pain which filled it: even the sound of his own voice hurt -him,--he did not want to talk. - - - - -VI - - -... And another oppression came upon them,--in spite of all the pains, -and the blinding dazzle of waters, and the biting of the sun: the -oppression of drowsiness. They began to doze at intervals,--keeping -their canoe balanced in some automatic way,--as cavalry soldiers, -overweary, ride asleep in the saddle. - -But at last, Stéphane, awaking suddenly with a paroxysm of coughing, so -swayed himself to one side as to overturn the canoe; and both found -themselves in the sea. - -Maximilien righted the craft, and got in again; but the little chabin -twice fell back in trying to raise himself upon his arms. He had become -almost helplessly feeble. Maximilien, attempting to aid him, again -overturned the unsteady little boat; and this time it required all his -skill and his utmost strength to get Stéphane out of the water. -Evidently Stéphane could be of no more assistance;--the boy was so weak -he could not even sit up straight. - ---"_Aïe! ou kê jété nou encò_," panted Maximilien,--"_metté ou -toutt longue._" - -Stéphane slowly let himself down, so as to lie nearly all his length in -the canoe,--one foot on either side of Maximilien's hips. Then he lay -very still for a long time,--so still that Maximilien became uneasy. - ---"_Ou ben malade?_" he asked.... Stéphane did not seem to hear: his -eyes remained closed. - ---"Stéphane!" cried Maximilien, in alarm,--"Stéphane!" - ---"_C'est lò, papoute_," murmured Stéphane, without lifting his -eyelids,--"_ça c'est lò!--ou pa janmain cuè yon bel pièce conm -ça?_" (It is gold, little father.... Didst thou ever see a pretty piece -like that?... No, thou wilt not beat me, little father?--no, _papoute!_) - ---"_Ou ka dòmi, Stéphane?_"--queried Maximilien, wondering,--"art -asleep?" - -But Stéphane opened his eyes and looked at him so strangely! Never had -he seen Stéphane look that way before. - ---"_Ça ou ni, Stéphane?_--what ails thee?--_aïe! Bon-Dié, -Bon-Dié?_" - ---"_Bon-Dié!_"--muttered Stéphane, closing his eyes again at the sound -of the great Name,--"He has no color;--He is like the Wind."... - ---"Stéphane!"... - ---"He feels in the dark;--He has not eyes."... - ---"_Stéphane, pa pàlé ça!_" - ---"He tosses the sea.... He has no face;--He lifts up the dead... and -the leaves."... - - -[Illustration: ARMISTICE DAY, FORT-DE-FRANCE -_A review at 7 A. M. by the governor anti his staff, all -in evening dress, with cannons booming as noisily as -in the north--followed by a day busily devoted to -doing nothing._] - - ---"_Ou fou!_" cried Maximilien, bursting into a wild fit of -sobbing,--"Stéphane, thou art mad!" - -And all at once he became afraid of Stéphane,--afraid of all he -said,--afraid of his touch,--afraid of his eyes... he was growing like a -_zombi!_ - -But Stéphane's eyes remained closed;--he ceased to speak. - -... About them deepened the enormous silence of the sea;--low swung the -sun again. The horizon was yellowing: day had begun to fade. Tall -Dominica was now half green; but there yet appeared no smoke, no sail, -no sign of life. - -And the tints of the two vast Shapes that shattered the rim of the light -shifted as if evanescing,--shifted like tones of West Indian fishes,--of -_pisquette_ and _congre_,--of _caringue_ and _gouôs-zié_ and _balaou._ -Lower sank the sun;--cloud-fleeces of orange pushed up over the edge of -the west;--a thin warm breath caressed the sea,--sent long lilac -shudderings over the flanks of the swells. Then colors changed again: -violet richened to purple;--greens blackened softly;--grays smouldered -into smoky gold. - -And the sun went down. - - - - -VII - - -And they floated into the fear of the night together. Again the ghostly -fires began to wimple about them: naught else was visible but the high -stars. - -Black hours passed. From minute to minute Maximilien cried -out:--"_Sucou! sucou!_" Stéphane lay motionless and dumb: his feet, -touching Maximilien's naked hips, felt singularly cold. - -... Something knocked suddenly against the bottom of the canoe,--knocked -heavily--making a hollow loud sound. It was not Stéphane;--Stéphane -lay still as a stone: it was from the depth below. Perhaps a great fish -passing. - -It came again,--twice,--shaking the canoe like a great blow. Then -Stéphane suddenly moved,--drew up his feet a little,--made as if to -speak:--"_Ou_..."; but the speech failed at his lips,--ending in a sound -like the moan of one trying to call out in sleep;--and Maximilien's -heart almost stopped beating.... Then Stéphane's limbs straightened -again; he made no more movement;--Maximilien could not even hear him -breathe.... All the sea had begun to whisper. - -A breeze was rising;--Maximilien felt it blowing upon him. All at once -it seemed to him that he had ceased to be afraid,--that he did not care -what might happen. He thought about a cricket he had one day watched in -the harbor,--drifting out with the tide, on an atom of dead bark,--and -he wondered what had become of it. Then he understood that he himself -was the cricket,--still alive. But some boy had found him and pulled off -his legs. There they were,--his own legs, pressing against him: he could -still feel the aching where they had been pulled off; and they had been -dead so long they were now quite cold.... It was certainly Stéphane who -had pulled them off.... - -The water was talking to him. It was saying the same thing over and over -again,--louder each time, as if it thought he could not hear. But he -heard it very well:--"_Bon-Dié, li conm vent... li ka touché nou... -nou pa save ouè li._" (But why had the Bon-Dié shaken the wind?) "_Li -pa ka tint zié_," answered the water.... _Ouille!_--He might all the -same care not to upset folks in the sea!... _Mi!_... - -But even as he thought these things, Maximilien became aware that a -white, strange, bearded face was looking at him: the Bon-Dié was -there,--bending over him with a lantern,--talking to him in a language -he did not understand. And the Bon-Dié certainly had eyes,--great gray -eyes that did not look wicked at all. He tried to tell the Bon-Dié how -sorry he was for what he had been saying about him;--but found he could -not utter a word. He felt great hands lift him up to the stars, and lay -him down very near them,--just under them. They burned blue-white, and -hurt his eyes like lightning:--he felt afraid of them.... About him he -heard voices,--always speaking the same language, which he could not -understand.... "_Poor little devils!--poor little devils!_" Then he -heard a bell ring; and the Bon-Dié made him swallow something nice and -warm;--and everything became black again. The stars went out!... - - -... Maximilien was lying under an electric-light on board the great -steamer _Rio de Janeiro_, and dead Stéphane beside him.... It was four -o'clock in the morning. - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LA FILLE DE COULEUR - - - - -I - - -Nothing else in the picturesque life of the French colonies of the -Occident impresses the traveller on his first arrival more than the -costumes of the women of color. They surprise the aesthetic sense -agreeably;--they are local and special: you will see nothing resembling -them among the populations of the British West Indies; they belong to -Martinique, Guadeloupe, Désirade, Marie-Galante, and Cayenne,--in each -place differing sufficiently to make the difference interesting, -especially in regard to the head-dress. That of Martinique is quite -Oriental;--more attractive, although less fantastic than the Cayenne -coiffure, or the pretty drooping mouchoir of Guadeloupe. - -These costumes are gradually disappearing, for various reasons,--the -chief reason being of course the changes in the social condition of the -colonies during the last forty years. Probably the question of health -had also something to do with the almost universal abandonment in -Martinique of the primitive slave dress,--_chemise_ and _jupe_,--which -exposed its wearer to serious risks of pneumonia; for as far as -economical reasons are concerned, there was no fault to find with it: -six francs could purchase it when money was worth more than it is now. -The douillette, a long trailing dress, one piece from neck to feet, has -taken its place.[37] But there was a luxurious variety of the jupe -costume which is disappearing because of its cost; there is no money in -the colonies now for such display:--I refer to the celebrated attire of -the pet slaves and _belles affranchies_ of the old colonial days. A full -costume,--including violet or crimson "petticoat" of silk or satin; -chemise with half-sleeves, and much embroidery and lace; -"trembling-pins" of gold (_zépingue tremblant_) to attach the folds of -the brilliant Madras turban; the great necklace of three or four strings -of gold beads bigger than peas (_collier-choux_); the ear-rings, immense -but light as egg-shells (_zanneaux-à-clous_ or _zanneaux-chenilles_); -the bracelets (_portes-bonheur_); the studs (_boutons-à-clous_); the -brooches, not only for the turban, but for the chemise, below the folds -of the showy silken foulard or shoulder-scarf,--would sometimes -represent over five thousand francs expenditure. This gorgeous attire is -becoming less visible every year: it is now rarely worn except on very -solemn occasions,--weddings, baptisms, first communions, confirmations. -The _da_ (nurse) or "porteuse-de-baptême" who bears the baby to church -holds it at the baptismal font, and afterwards carries it from house to -house in order that all the friends of the family may kiss it, is thus -attired; but nowadays, unless she be a professional (for there are -professional _das_, hired only for such occasions), she usually borrows -the jewellry. If tall, young, graceful, with a rich gold tone of skin, -the effect of her costume is dazzling as that of a Byzantine Virgin. I -saw one young da who, thus garbed, scarcely seemed of the earth and -earthly;--there was an Oriental something in her appearance difficult to -describe,--something that made you think of the Queen of Sheba going to -visit Solomon. She had brought a merchant's baby, just christened, to -receive the caresses of the family at whose house I was visiting; and -when it came to my turn to kiss it, I confess I could not notice the -child: I saw only the beautiful dark face, coiffed with orange and -purple, bending over it, in an illumination of antique gold.... What a -da!... She represented really the type of that _belle affranchie_ of -other days, against whose fascination special sumptuary laws were made; -romantically she imaged for me the supernatural god-mothers and -Cinderellas of the creole fairy-tales. For these become transformed in -the West Indian folklore,--adapted to the environment, and to local -idealism:--Cinderella, for example, is changed to a beautiful metisse, -wearing a quadruple _collier-choux_, _zépingues tremblants_, and all -the ornaments of a da.[38] Recalling the impression of that dazzling -_da_, I can even now feel the picturesque justice of the fabulist's -description of Cinderella's creole costume: _Ça té ka baille ou mal -zie!_--(it would have given you a pain in your eyes to look at her!) - - -... Even the every-day Martinique costume is slowly changing. Year by -year the "calendeuses"--the women who paint and fold the turbans--have -less work to do;--the colors of the _douiellette_ are becoming less -vivid;--while more and more young colored girls are being _élevées en -chapeau_ ("brought up in a hat")--i.e., dressed and educated like the -daughters of the whites. These, it must be confessed, look far less -attractive in the latest Paris fashion, unless white as the whites -themselves: on the other hand, few white girls could look well in -_douillette_ and _mouchoir_,--not merely because of color contrast, but -because they have not that amplitude of limb and particular cambering of -the torso peculiar to the half-breed race, with its large bulk and -stature. Attractive as certain coolie women are, I observed that all who -have adopted the Martinique costume look badly in it: they are too -slender of body to wear it to advantage. - -Slavery introduced these costumes, even though it probably did not -invent them; and they were necessarily doomed to pass away with the -peculiar social conditions to which they belonged. If the population -clings still to its _douillettes_, _mouchoirs_, and _foulards_, the fact -is largely due to the cheapness of such attire. A girl can dress very -showily indeed for about twenty francs--shoes excepted;--and thousands -never wear shoes. But the fashion will no doubt have become cheaper and -uglier within another decade. - -At the present time, however, the stranger might be sufficiently -impressed by the oddity and brilliancy of these dresses to ask about -their origin,--in which case it is not likely that he will obtain any -satisfactory answer. After long research I found myself obliged to give -up all hope of being able to outline the history of Martinique -costume,--partly because books and histories are scanty or defective, -and partly because such an undertaking would require a knowledge -possible only to a specialist. I found good reason, nevertheless, to -suppose that these costumes were in the beginning adopted from certain -fashions of provincial France,--that the respective fashions of -Guadeloupe, Martinique, and Cayenne were patterned after modes still -worn in parts of the mother-country. The old-time garb of the -_affranchie_--that still worn by the _da_--somewhat recalls dresses worn -by the women of Southern France, more particularly about Montpellier. -Perhaps a specialist might also trace back the evolution of the various -creole coiffures to old forms of head-dresses which still survive among -the French country-fashions of the south and south-west provinces;--but -local taste has so much modified the original style as to leave it -unrecognizable to those who have never studied the subject. The -Martinique fashion of folding and tying the Madras, and of calendering -it, are probably local; and I am assured that the designs of the curious -semi-barbaric jewellry were all invented in the colony, where the -_collier-choux_ is still manufactured by local goldsmiths. Purchasers -buy one, two, or three _grains_, or beads, at a time, and string them -only on obtaining the requisite number.... This is the sum of all that I -was able to learn on the matter; but in the course of searching various -West Indian authors and historians for information, I found something -far more important than the origin of the _douillette_ or the -_collier-choux_: the facts of that strange struggle between nature and -interest, between love and law, between prejudice and passion, which -forms the evolutional history of the mixed race. - - -[Footnote 37: The brightly colored douillettes are classified by the people -according to the designs of the printed -calico:--_robe-à-bambou,--robe-à-bouquet,--robe-arc-en-ciel--robe-à-carreau_,--etc., -according as the pattern is in stripes, flower-designs, "rainbow" bands -of different tints, or plaidings. _Ronde-en-ronde_ means a stuff printed -with disk-patterns, or link-patterns of different colors,--each joined -with the other. A robe of one color only is called a _robe-uni._ - -The general laws of contrasts observed in the costume require the silk -foulard, or shoulder-kerchief, to make a sharp relief with the color of -the robe, thus:-- - -_Robe_ _Foulard._ -Yellow Blue. -Dark blue Yellow. -Pink Green. -Violet Bright red. -Red Violet. -Chocolate (cacao) Pale blue. -Sky blue Pale rose. - -These refer, of course, to dominant or ground colors, as there are -usually several tints in the foulard as well as the robe. The painted -Madras should always be bright yellow. According to popular ideas of -good dressing, the different tints of skin should be relieved by special -choice of color in the robe, as follows:-- - -_Capresse_ (a clear red skin) should wear Pale yellow. - -_Mulatresse_ (according to shade) Rose. - Blue. - {Green. - -_Négresse_ {White. - {Scarlet, or any violent color.] - -[Footnote 38: "_Vouèla Cendrillon evec yon bel ròbe velou grande -lakhè.... Ça té ka bail ou mal ziè. Li té tini bel zanneau dans -zòreill li, quate-tou-chou, bouoche, bracelet, tremblant,--toutt sòte -bel baggaïe conm ça._"...--(_Conte Cendrillon_,--d'après Turiault.) - ---"There was Cendrillon with a beautiful long trailing robe of velvet on -her!... It was enough to hurt one's eyes to look at her! She had -beautiful rings in her ears, and a collier-choux of four rows, brooches, -_tremblants_, bracelets,--everything fine of that sort."--(Story of -Cinderella in Turinault's Creole Grammar).] - - - - -II - - -Considering only the French peasant colonist and the West African slave -as the original factors of that physical evolution visible in the modern -_fille-de-couleur_, it would seem incredible;--for the intercrossing -alone could not adequately explain all the physical results. To -understand them fully, it will be necessary to bear in mind that both of -the original races became modified in their lineage to a surprising -degree by conditions of climate and environment. - -The precise time of the first introduction of slaves into Martinique is -not now possible to ascertain,--no record exists on the subject; but it -is probable that the establishment of slavery was coincident with the -settlement of the island. Most likely the first hundred colonists from -St. Christophe, who landed, in 1635, near the bay whereon the city of -St. Pierre is now situated, either brought slaves with them, or else -were furnished with negroes very soon after their arrival. In the time -of Père Dutertre (who visited the colonies in 1640, and printed his -history of the French Antilles at Paris in 1667) slavery was already a -flourishing institution,--the foundation of the whole social structure. -According to the Dominican missionary, the Africans then in the colony -were decidedly repulsive; he describes the women as "hideous" -(_hideuses_). There is no good reason to charge Dutertre with prejudice -in his pictures of them. No writer of the century was more keenly -sensitive to natural beauty than the author of that "Voyage aux -Antilles" which inspired Chateaubriand, and which still, after two -hundred and fifty years, delights even those perfectly familiar with the -nature of the places and things spoken of. No other writer and traveller -of the period possessed to a more marked degree that sense of generous -pity which makes the unfortunate appear to us in an illusive, almost -ideal aspect. Nevertheless, he asserts that the negresses were, as a -general rule, revoltingly ugly,--and, although he had seen many strange -sides of human nature (having been a soldier before becoming a monk), -was astonished to find that miscegenation had already begun. Doubtless -the first black women thus favored, or afflicted, as the case might be, -were of the finer types of negresses; for he notes remarkable -differences among the slaves procured from different coasts and various -tribes. Still, these were rather differences of ugliness than aught -else: they were all repulsive;--only some were more repulsive than -others.[39] Granting that the first mothers of mulattoes in the colony -were the superior rather than the inferior physical types,--which would -be a perfectly natural supposition,--still we find their offspring -worthy in his eyes of no higher sentiment than pity. He writes in his -chapter entitled "_De la naissance honteuse des mulastres_": - ---"They have something of their Father and something of their -Mother,--in the same wise that Mules partake of the qualities of the -creatures that engendered them: for they are neither all white, like the -French; nor all black, like the Negroes, but have a livid tint, which -comes of both."... - -To-day, however, the traveller would look in vain for a _livid_ tint -among the descendants of those thus described: in less than two -centuries and a half the physical characteristics of the race have been -totally changed. What most surprises is the rapidity of the -transformation. After the time of Père Labat, Europeans never could -"have mistaken little negro children for monkeys." Nature had begun to -remodel the white, the black, and half-breed according to environment -and climate: the descendant of the early colonists ceased to resemble -his fathers; the creole negro improved upon his progenitors;[40] the -mulatto began to give evidence of those qualities of physical and mental -power which were afterwards to render him dangerous to the integrity of -the colony itself. In a temperate climate such a change would have been -so gradual as to escape observation for a long period;--in the tropics -it was effected with a quickness that astounds by its revelation of the -natural forces at work. - ---"Under the sun of the tropics," writes Dr. Rufz, of Martinique, "the -African race, as well as the European, becomes greatly modified in its -reproduction. Either race gives birth to a totally new being. The Creole -African came into existence as did the Creole white." And just as the -offspring of Europeans who emigrated to the tropics from different parts -of France displayed characteristics so identical that it was impossible -to divine the original race-source,--so likewise the Creole -negro--whether brought into being by the heavy thick-set Congo, or the -long slender black of Senegambia, or the suppler and more active -Mandingo,--appeared so remodelled, homogeneous, and adapted in such wise -to his environment that it was utterly impossible to discern in his -features anything of his parentage, his original kindred, his original -source.... The transformation is absolute. All that In be asserted is: -"This is a white Creole; this is a black Creole";--or, "This is a -European white; this is an African black";--and furthermore, after a -certain number of years passed in the tropics, the enervated and -discolored aspect of the European may create uncertainty, as to his -origin. But with very few exceptions the primitive African, or, as he is -termed here, the "Coast Black" (_le noir de la Côte_), can be -recognized at once.... - -... "The Creole negro is gracefully shaped, finely proportioned: his -limbs are lithe, his neck long;--his features are more delicate, his -lips less thick, his nose less flattened, than those of the African;--he -has the Carib's large and melancholy eye, better adapted to express the -emotions.... Rarely can you discover in him the sombre fury of the -African, rarely a surly and savage mien: he is brave, chatty, boastful. -His skin has not the same tint as his father's,--it has become more -satiny; his hair remains woolly, but it is a finer wool... all his -outlines are more rounded;--one may perceive that the cellular tissue -predominates, as in cultivated plants, of which the ligneous and savage -fibre has become transformed."...[41] - -This new and comelier black race naturally won from its masters a more -sympathetic attention than could have been vouchsafed to its -progenitors; and the consequences in Martinique and elsewhere seemed to -have evoked the curious Article 9 of the _Code Noir_ of 1665,--enacting, -first, that free men who should have one or two children by slave women, -as well as the slave-owners permitting the same, should be each -condemned to pay two thousand pounds of sugar; secondly, that if the -violator of the ordinance should be himself the owner of the mother and -father of her children, the mother and the children should be -confiscated for the profit of the Hospital, and deprived for their lives -of the right to enfranchisement. An exception, however, was made to the -effect that if the father were unmarried at the period of his -concubinage, he could escape the provisions of the penalty by marrying, -"according to the rites of the Church," the female slave, who would -thereby be enfranchised, and her children "rendered free and -legitimate." Probably the legislators did not imagine that the first -portion of the article could prove inefficacious, or that any violator -of the ordinance would seek to escape the penalty by those means offered -in the provision. The facts, however, proved the reverse. Miscegenation -continued; and Labat notices two cases of marriage between whites and -blacks,--describing the offspring of one union as "very handsome little -mulattoes." These legitimate unions were certainly exceptional,--one of -them was dissolved by the ridicule cast upon the father;--but -illegitimate unions would seem to have become common within a very brief -time after the passage of the law. At a later day they were to become -customary. The Article 9 was evidently at fault; and in March, 1724, the -Black Code was reinforced by a new ordinance, of which the sixth -provision prohibited marriage as well as concubinage between the races. - -It appears to have had no more effect than the previous law, even in -Martinique, where the state of public morals was better than in Santo -Domingo. The slave race had begun to exercise an influence never -anticipated by legislators. Scarcely a century had elapsed since the -colonization of the island; but in that time climate and civilization -had transfigured the black woman. "After one or two generations," writes -the historian Rufz, "the _Africaine_, reformed, refined, beautified in -her descendants, transformed into the creole negress, commenced to exert -a fascination irresistible, capable of winning anything (_capable de -tout obtenir_)."[42] Travellers of the eighteenth century were -confounded by the luxury of dress and of jewellry displayed by swarthy -beauties in St. Pierre. It was a public scandal to European eyes. But -the creole negress or mulattress, beginning to understand her power, -sought for higher favors and privileges than silken robes and necklaces -of gold beads: she sought to obtain, not merely liberty for herself, but -for her parents, brothers, sisters,--even friends. What successes she -achieved in this regard may be imagined from the serious statement of -creole historians that if human nature had been left untrammelled to -follow its better impulses, slavery would have ceased to exist a century -before the actual period of emancipation! By 1738, when the white -population had reached its maximum (15,000),[43] and colonial luxury had -arrived at its greatest height, the question of voluntary -enfranchisement was becoming very grave. So omnipotent the charm of -half-breed beauty that masters were becoming the slaves of their slaves. -It was not only the creole _negress_ who had appeared to play a part in -this strange drama which was the triumph of nature over interest and -judgment: her daughters, far more beautiful, had grown up to aid her, -and to form a special class. These women, whose tints of skin rivalled -the colors of ripe fruit, and whose gracefulness--peculiar, exotic, and -irresistible--made them formidable rivals to the daughters of the -dominant race, were no doubt physically superior to the modern -_filles-de-couleur_. They were results of a natural selection which -could have taken place in no community otherwise constituted;--the -offspring of the union between the finer types of both races. But that -which only slavery could have rendered possible began to endanger the -integrity of slavery itself: the institutions upon which the whole -social structure rested were being steadily sapped by the influence of -half-breed girls. Some new, severe, extreme policy was evidently -necessary to avert the already visible peril. Special laws were passed -by the Home-Government to check enfranchisement, to limit its reasons or -motives; and the power of the slave woman was so well comprehended by -the Métropole that an extraordinary enactment was made against it. It -was decreed that whosoever should free a woman of color would have to -pay to the Government _three times her value as a slave!_ - -Thus heavily weighted, emancipation advanced much more slowly than -before, but it still continued to a considerable extent. The poorer -creole planter or merchant might find it impossible to obey the impulse -of his conscience or of his affection, but among the richer classes -pecuniary considerations could scarcely affect enfranchisement. The -country had grown wealthy; and although the acquisition of wealth may -not evoke generosity in particular natures, the enrichment of a whole -class develops pre-existing tendencies to kindness, and opens new ways -for its exercise. Later in the eighteenth century, when hospitality had -been cultivated as a gentleman's duty to fantastical extremes,--when -liberality was the rule throughout society,--when a notary summoned to -draw up a deed, or a priest invited to celebrate a marriage, might -receive for fee five thousand francs in gold,--there were certainly many -emancipations.... "Even though interest and public opinion in the -colonies," says a historian,[44] "were adverse to enfranchisement, the -private feeling of each man combated that opinion;--Nature resumed her -sway in the secret places of hearts;--and as local custom permitted a -sort of polygamy, the rich man naturally felt himself bound in honor to -secure the freedom of his own blood.... It was not a rare thing to see -legitimate wives taking care of the natural children of their -husbands,--becoming their godmothers (_s'en faire les marraines_)."... -Nature seemed to laugh all these laws to scorn, and the prejudices of -race! In vain did the wisdom of legislators attempt to render the -condition of the enfranchised more humble,--enacting extravagant -penalties for the blow by which a mulatto might avenge the insult of a -white,--prohibiting the freed from wearing the same dress as their -former masters or mistresses wore;--"the _belles affranchies_ found, in -a costume whereof the negligence seemed a very inspiration of -voluptuousness, means of evading that social inferiority which the law -sought to impose upon them:--they began to inspire the most violent -jealousies."[45] - - -[Footnote 39: It is quite possible, however, that the slaves of -Dutertre's time belonged for the most part to the uglier African tribes; -and that later supplies may have been procured from other parts of the -slave coast. Writing half a century later, Père Labat declares having -seen freshly disembarked blacks handsome enough to inspire an -artist:--"_J'en ai vu des deux sexes faits à peindre, et beaux par -merveille_" (vol. iv. chap, vii,). He adds that their skin was extremely -fine, and of velvety softness;--"_le velours n'est pas plus doux_."... -Among the 30,000 blacks yearly shipped to the French colonies, there -were doubtless many representatives of the finer African races.] - -[Footnote 40: "Leur sueur n'est pas fétide comme celle des nègres de -la Guinée," writes the traveller Dauxion-Lavaysse, in 1813.] - -[Footnote 41: Dr. E. Rufz: "Études historiques et statistiques sur la -population de la Martinique." St. Pierre: 1850. Vol. I, pp. 148-50. - -It has been generally imagined that the physical constitution of the -black race was proof against the deadly climate of the West Indies. The -truth is that the freshly imported Africans died of fever by thousands -and tens-of-thousands;--the creole-negro race, now so prolific, -represents only the fittest survivors in the long and terrible struggle -of the slave element to adapt itself to the new environment. Thirty -thousand negroes a year were long needed to supply the French colonies. -Between 1700 and 1789 no less than 900,000 slaves were imported by San -Domingo alone;--yet there were less than half that number left in 1789. -(See Placide Justin's history of Santo Domingo, p. 147.) The entire -slave population of Barbadoes had to be renewed every sixteen years, -according to estimates: the loss to planters by deaths of slaves -(reckoning the value of a slave at only £20 sterling) during the same -period was £1,600,000 ($8,000,000). (Burck's "History of European -Colonies," vol. II., p. 141; French edition of 1767.)] - -[Footnote 42: Rufz: "Études," vol. I., p. 236.] - -[Footnote 43: I am assured it has now fallen to a figure not exceeding -5000.] - -[Footnote 44: Rufz: "Études," vol. II., pp. 311, 312.] - -[Footnote 45: Rufz: "Études," vol. I., p. 237.] - - - - -III - - -What the legislators of 1685 and 1724 endeavored to correct did not -greatly improve with the abolition of slavery, nor yet with those -political troubles which socially deranged colonial life. The -_fille-de-couleur_, inheriting the charm of the belle _affranchie_, -continued to exert a similar influence, and to fulfil an almost similar -destiny. The latitude of morals persisted,--though with less -ostentation: it has latterly contracted under the pressure of necessity -rather than through any other influences. Certain ethical principles -thought essential to social integrity elsewhere have always been largely -relaxed in the tropics; and--excepting, perhaps, Santo Domingo--the -moral standard in Martinique was not higher than in the other French -colonies. Outward decorum might be to some degree maintained; but there -was no great restraint of any sort upon private lives: it was not -uncommon for a rich man to have many "natural" families; and almost -every individual of means had children of color. The superficial -character of race prejudices was everywhere manifested by unions, which -although never mentioned in polite converse, were none the less -universally known; and the "irresistible fascination" of the half-breed -gave the open lie to pretended hate. Nature, in the guise of the _belle -affranchie_, had mocked at slave codes;--in the _fille-de-couleur_ she -still laughed at race pretensions, and ridiculed the fable of physical -degradation. To-day, the situation has not greatly changed; and with -such examples on the part of the cultivated race, what could be expected -from the other? Marriages are rare;--it has been officially stated that -the illegitimate births are sixty per cent; but seventy-five to eighty -per cent would probably be nearer the truth. It is very common to see in -the local papers such announcements as: _Enfants légitimes_, 1 (one -birth announced); _enfants naturels_, 25. - -In speaking of the _fille-de-couleur_ it is necessary also to speak of -the extraordinary social stratification of the community to which she -belongs. The official statement of 20,000 "colored" to the total -population of between 173,000 and 174,000 (in which the number of pure -whites is said to have fallen as low as 5,000) does not at all indicate -the real proportion of mixed blood. Only a small element of unmixed -African descent really exists; yet when a white creole speaks of the -_gens-de-couleur_ he certainly means nothing darker than a mulatto skin. -Race classifications have been locally made by sentiments of political -origin: at least four or five shades of visible color are classed as -negro. There is, however, some natural truth at the bottom of this -classification: where African blood predominates, the sympathies are -likely to be African; and the turning-point is reached only in the true -mulatto, where, allowing the proportions of mixed blood to be -nearly equal, the white would have the dominant influence in -situations more natural than existing politics. And in speaking of the -_filles-de-couleur_, the local reference is always to women in whom the -predominant element is white: a white creole, as a general rule, deigns -only thus to distinguish those who are nearly white,--more usually he -refers to the whole class as mulattresses. Those women whom wealth and -education have placed in a social position parallel with that of the -daughters of creole whites are in some cases allowed to pass for -white,--or at the very worst, are only referred to in a whisper as being -_de couleur_. (Needless to say, these are totally beyond the range of -the present considerations: there is nothing to be further said of them -except that they can be classed with the most attractive and refined -women of the entire tropical world.) As there is an almost infinite -gradation from the true black up to the brightest _sang-mêlé_, it is -impossible to establish any color-classification recognizable by the eye -alone; and whatever lines of demarcation can be drawn between castes -must be social rather than ethnical. In this sense we may accept the -local Creole definition of _fille-de-couleur_ as signifying, not so much -a daughter of the race of visible color, as the half-breed girl destined -from her birth to a career like that of the _belle affranchie_ of the -old regime;--for the moral cruelties of slavery have survived -emancipation. - -Physically, the typical _fille-de-couleur_ may certainly be classed, as -white creole writers have not hesitated to class her, with the "most -beautiful women of the human race."[46] She has inherited not only the -finer bodily characteristics of either parent race, but a something else -belonging originally to neither, and created by special climatic and -physical conditions,--a grace, a suppleness of form, a delicacy of -extremities (so that all the lines described by the bending of limbs or -fingers are parts of clean curves), a satiny smoothness and fruit-tint -of skin,--solely West Indian.... Morally, of course, it is much more -difficult to describe her; and whatever may safely be said refers rather -to the fille-de-couleur of the past than of the present half-century. -The race is now in a period of transition: public education and -political changes are modifying the type, and it is impossible to guess -the ultimate consequence, because it is impossible to safely predict -what new influences may yet be brought to affect its social development. -Befare the present era of colonial decadence, the character of the -fille-de-couleur was not what it is now. Even when totally uneducated, -she had a peculiar charm,--that charm of childishness which has power to -win sympathy from the rudest natures. One could not but feel attracted -towards this naïf being, docile as an infant, and as easily pleased or -as easily pained,--artless in her goodnesses as in her faults, to all -outward appearance;--willing to give her youth, her beauty, her caresses -to some one in exchange for the promise to love her,--perhaps also to -care for a mother, or a younger brother. Her astonishing capacity for -being delighted with trifles, her pretty vanities and pretty follies, -her sudden veerings of mood from laughter to tears,--like the sudden -rainbursts and sunbursts of her own passionate climate: these touched, -drew, won, and tyrannized. Yet such easily created joys and pains did -not really indicate any deep reserve of feeling: rather a superficial -sensitiveness only,--like the _zhèbe-m'amisé_, or _zhèbe-manmzelle_, -whose leaves close at the touch of a hair. Such human manifestations, -nevertheless, are apt to attract more in proportion as they are more -visible,--in proportion as the soul-current, being less profound, flows -more audibly. But no hasty observation could have revealed the whole -character of the fille-de-couleur to the stranger, equally charmed and -surprised: the creole comprehended her better, and probably treated her -with even more real kindness. The truth was that centuries of -deprivation of natural rights and hopes had given to her race--itself -fathered by passion unrestrained and mothered by subjection -unlimited--an inherent scepticism in the duration of love, and a -marvellous capacity for accepting the destiny of abandonment as one -accepts the natural and the inevitable. And that desire to please--which -in the fille-de-couleur seemed to prevail above all other motives of -action (maternal affection excepted)--could have appeared absolutely -natural only to those who never reflected that even sentiment had been -artificially cultivated by slavery. - -She asked for so little,--accepted a gift with such childish -pleasure,--submitted so unresistingly to the will of the man -who promised to love her. She bore him children--such beautiful -children!--whom he rarely acknowledged, and was never asked -to legitimatize;--and she did not ask perpetual affection -notwithstanding,--regarded the relation as a necessarily temporary one, -to be sooner or later dissolved by the marriage of her children's -father. If deceived in all things,--if absolutely ill-treated and left -destitute, she did not lose faith in human nature: she seemed a born -optimist, believing most men good;--she would make a home for another -and serve him better than any slave.... "_Née de l'amour_," says a -creole writer, "_la fille-de-couleur vit d'amour, de rires, et -d'oublis_."...[47] - -Then came the general colonial crash!... You cannot see its results -without feeling touched by them. Everywhere the weird beauty, the -immense melancholy of tropic ruin. Magnificent terraces, once golden -with cane, now abandoned to weeds and serpents;--deserted -plantation-homes, with trees rooted in the apartments and pushing up -through the place of the roofs;--grass-grown alleys ravined by -rains;--fruit-trees strangled by lianas;--here and there the stem of -some splendid palmiste, brutally decapitated, naked as a mast;--petty -frail growths of banana-trees or of bamboo slowly taking the place of -century-old forest giants destroyed to make charcoal. But beauty enough -remains to tell what the sensual paradise of the old days must have -been, when sugar was selling at 52. - -And the fille-de-couleur has also changed. She is much less humble and -submissive,--somewhat more exacting: she comprehends better the moral -injustice of her position. The almost extreme physical refinement and -delicacy, bequeathed to her by the freedwomen of the old regime, are -passing away: like a conservatory plant deprived of its shelter, she is -returning to a more primitive condition,--hardening and growing perhaps -less comely as well as less helpless. She perceives also in a vague way -the peril of her race: the creole white, her lover and protector, is -emigrating;--the domination of the black becomes more and more probable. -Furthermore, with the continual increase of the difficulty of living, -and the growing pressure of population, social cruelties and hatreds -have been developed such as her ancestors never knew. She is still -loved; but it is alleged that she rarely loves the white, no matter how -large the sacrifices made for her sake, and she no longer enjoys that -reputation of fidelity accorded to her class in other years. Probably -the truth is that the fille-de-couleur never had at any time capacity to -bestow that quality of affection imagined or exacted as a right. Her -moral side is still half savage: her feelings are still those of a -child. If she does not love the white man according to his unreasonable -desire, it is certain at least that she loves him as well as he -deserves. Her alleged demoralization is more apparent than real;--she is -changing from an artificial to a very natural being, and revealing more -and more in her sufferings the true character of the luxurious social -condition that brought her into existence. As a general rule, even while -questioning her fidelity, the creole freely confesses her kindness of -heart, and grants her capable of extreme generosity and devotedness to -strangers or to children whom she has an opportunity to care for. -Indeed, her natural kindness is so strikingly in contrast with the -harder and subtler character of the men of color that one might almost -feel tempted to doubt if she belong to the same race. Said a creole -once, in my hearing:--"The gens-de-couleur are just like the -_tourtouroux_:[48] one must pick out the females and leave the males -alone." Although perhaps capable of a double meaning, his words were not -lightly uttered;--he referred to the curious but indubitable fact that -the character of the colored woman appears in many respects far superior -to that of the colored man. In order to understand this, one must bear -in mind the difference in the colonial history of both sexes; and a -citation from General Romanet,[49] who visited Martinique at the end of -the last century, offers a clue to the mystery. Speaking of the tax upon -enfranchisement, he writes:-- - ---"The governor appointed by the sovereign delivers the certificates of -liberty,--on payment by the master of a sum usually equivalent to the -value of the subject. Public interest frequently justifies him in making -the price of the slave proportionate to the desire or the interest -manifested by the master. It can be readily understood that the tax upon -the liberty of the women ought to be higher than that of the men: the -latter unfortunates having no greater advantage than that of being -useful;--the former know how to please: they have those rights and -privileges which the whole world allows to their sex; they know how to -make even the fetters of slavery serve them for adornments. They may be -seen placing upon their proud tyrants the same chains worn by -themselves, and making them kiss the marks left thereby: the master -becomes the slave, and purchases another's liberty only to lose his -own." - -Long before the time of General Romanet, the colored male slave might -win liberty as the guerdon of bravery in fighting against foreign -invasion, or might purchase it by extraordinary economy, while working -as a mechanic on extra time for his own account (he always refused to -labor with negroes); but in either case his success depended upon the -possession and exercise of qualities the reverse of amiable. On the -other hand, the bondwoman won manumission chiefly through her power to -excite affection. In the survival and perpetuation of the fittest of -both sexes these widely different characteristics would obtain more and -more definition with successive generations. - -I find in the "Bulletin des Actes Administratifs de la Martinique" for -1831 (No. 41) a list of slaves to whom liberty was accorded _pour -services rendus à leurs maîtres_. Out of the sixty-nine -enfranchisements recorded under this head, there are only two names of -male adults to be found,--one an old man of sixty;--the other, called -Laurencin, the betrayer of a conspiracy. The rest are young girls, or -young mothers and children;--plenty of those singular and pretty names -in vogue among the creole population,--Acélie, Avrillette, Mélie, -Robertine, Célianne, Francillette, Adée, Catharinette, Sidollie, -Céline, Coraline;--and the ages given are from sixteen to twenty-one, -with few exceptions. Yet these liberties were asked for and granted at a -time when Louis Philippe had abolished the tax on manumissions.... The -same "Bulletin" contains a list of liberties granted to colored men, -_pour service accompli dans la milice_, only! - -Most of the French West Indian writers whose works I was able to obtain -and examine speak severely of the _hommes-de-couleur_ as a class,--in -some instances the historian writes with a very violence of hatred. As -far back as the commencement of the eighteenth century, Labat, who, with -all his personal oddities, was undoubtedly a fine judge of men, -declared:--"The mulattoes are as a general rule well made, of good -stature, vigorous, strong, adroit, industrious, and daring (_hardis_) -beyond all conception. They have much vivacity, but are given to their -pleasures, fickle, proud, deceitful (_cachés_), wicked, and capable of -the greatest crimes." A San Domingo historian, far more prejudiced than -Père Labat, speaks of them "as physically superior, though morally -inferior to the whites": he wrote at a time when the race had given to -the world the two best swordsmen it has yet perhaps seen,--Saint-Georges -and Jean-Louis. - -Commenting on the judgment of Père Labat, the historian Borde -observes:--"The wickedness spoken of by Père Labat doubtless relates to -their political passions only; for the women of color are, beyond any -question, the best and sweetest persons in the world--_à coup -sûr, les meilleures et les plus douces personnes qu'il y ait au -monde_."--("Histoire de l'Ile de la Trinidad," par M. Pierre Gustave -Louis Borde, vol. I., p. 222.) The same author, speaking of their -goodness of heart, generosity to strangers and the sick says "they are -born Sisters of Charity";--and he is not the only historian who has -expressed such admiration of their moral qualities. What I myself saw -during the epidemic of 1887-88 at Martinique convinced me that these -eulogies of the women of color are not extravagant. On the other hand, -the existing creole opinion of the men of color is much less favorable -than even that expressed by Père Labat. Political events and passions -have, perhaps, rendered a just estimate of their qualities difficult. -The history of the _hommes-de-couleur_ in all the French colonies has -been the same;--distrusted by the whites, who feared their aspirations -to social equality, distrusted even more by the blacks (who still hate -them secretly, although ruled by them), the mulattoes became an -Ishmaelitish clan, inimical to both races, and dreaded of both. In -Martinique it was attempted, with some success, to manage them by -according freedom to all who would serve in the militia for a certain -period with credit. At no time was it found possible to compel them to -work with blacks; and they formed the whole class of skilled city -workmen and mechanics for a century prior to emancipation. - -... To-day it cannot be truly said of the _fille-de-couleur_ that her -existence is made up of "love, laughter, and forgettings." She has aims -in life,--the bettering of her condition, the higher education of her -children, whom she hopes to free from the curse of prejudice. She still -clings to the white, because through him she may hope to improve her -position. Under other conditions she might even hope to effect some sort -of reconciliation between the races. But the gulf has become so much -widened within the last forty years, that no rapprochement now appears -possible; and it is perhaps too late even to restore the lost prosperity -of the colony by any legislative or commercial reforms. The universal -creole belief is summed up in the daily-repeated cry: "_C'est un pays -perdu!_" Yearly the number of failures increase; and more whites -emigrate;--and with every bankruptcy or departure some fille-de-couleur -is left almost destitute, to begin life over again. Many a one has been -rich and poor several times in succession;--one day her property is -seized for debt;--perhaps on the morrow she finds some one able and -willing to give her a home again... Whatever comes, she does not die for -grief, this daughter of the sun: she pours out her pain in song, like a -bird, Here is one of her little improvisations,--a song very popular in -both Martinique and Guadeloupe, though originally composed in the latter -colony:-- - - ---"Good-bye Madras! -Good-bye foulard! -Good-bye pretty calicoes! -Good-bye collier-choux! -That ship -Which is there on the buoy, -It is taking -My doudoux away." - ---"Adiéu Madras! -Adiéu foulard! -Adiéu dézinde! -Adiéu collier-choux! -Batiment-là -Qui sou labouè-là, -Li ka mennein -Doudoux-à-moin allé." - ---"Very good-day,-- -Monsieur the Consignee. -I come -To make one little petition. -My doudoux -Is going away. -Alas! I pray you -Delay his going." - ---"Bien le-bonjou', -Missié le Consignataire. -Moin ka vini -Fai yon ti pétition; -Doudoux-à-moin -Y ka pati,--T'enprie, hélas! -Rétàdé li." - -[He answers kindly in French: the _békés_ are always kind to these -gentle children.] - ---"My dear child, -It is too late. -The bills of lading -Are already signed; -The ship -Is already on the buoy. -In an hour from now -They will be getting her under way." - ---"Ma chère enfant -Il est trop tard, -Les connaissements -Sont déjà signés, -Est déjà sur la bouée; -Dans une heure d'ici, -Ils vont appareiller." - ---"When the foulards came.... -I always had some; -When the Madras-kerchiefs came, -I always had some; -When the printed calicoes came, -I always had some. -... That second officer--Is such a kind man!" - ---"Foulard rivé, -Moin té toujou tini; -Madras rivé, -Moin té toujou tini; -Dézindes rivé, -Moin té toujou tini.--Capitaine sougonde -C'est yon bon gàçon!" - -"Everybody has -Somebody to love; -Everybody has -Somebody to pet; -Every body has -A sweetheart of her own. -I am the only one -Who cannot have that,--I!" - -"Toutt moune tini -Yon moune yo aimé; -Toutt moune tini -Yon moune yo chéri; -Toutt moune tini -Yon doudoux à yo. -Jusse moin tou sèle -Pa tini ça--moin!" - - -... On the eve of the _Fête Dieu_, or Corpus Christi festival, in all -these Catholic countries, the city streets are hung with banners and -decorated with festoons and with palm branches; and great altars are -erected at various points along the route of the procession, to serve as -resting-places for the Host. These are called _reposoirs_; in creole -patois, "_reposouè Bon-Dié_." Each wealthy man lends something to help -to make them attractive,--rich plate, dainty crystal, bronzes, -paintings, beautiful models of ships or steamers, curiosities from -remote parts of the world.... The procession over, the altar is -stripped, the valuables are returned to their owners: all the splendor -disappears.... And the spectacle of that evanescent magnificence, -repeated year by year, suggested to this proverb-loving people a -similitude for the unstable fortune of the fille-de-couleur:--_Fortune -milatresse c'est reposouè Bon-Dié_. (The luck of the mulattress is the -resting-place of the Good-God). - - -[Footnote 46: _La race de sang-mêlé, issue des blancs et des noirs, -est éminement civilizable. Comme types physiques, elle fournit dans -beaucoup d'individus, dans ses femmes en général, les plus beaux -specimens de la race humaine_.--"Le Préjugé de Race aux Antilles -Françaises." Par G. Souquet-Basiège. St. Pierre, Martinique: 1883. pp. -661-62.] - -[Footnote 47: Turiault: "Étude sur le langage Créole de la -Martinique." Brest: 1874.... On page 136 he cites the following pretty -verses in speaking of the _fille-de-couleur_:-- - -L'Amour prit soin de la former -Tendre, naïve, et caressante. -Faite pour plaire, encore plus pour aimer. -Portant tous les traits précieux -Du caractère d'une amante. -Le plaisir sur sa bouche et l'amour dans set yeux.] - -[Footnote 48: A sort of land-crab;--the female is selected for food, -and, properly cooked, makes a delicious dish;--the male is almost -worthless.] - -[Footnote 49: "Voyage à la Martinique," Par J. R., Général de -Brigade. Paris: An. XII., 1804. Page 106.] - - -[Illustration] - - - - -BÊTE-NI-PIÉ - - - - -I - - -St. Pierre is in one respect fortunate beyond many tropical cities;--she -has scarcely any mosquitoes, although there are plenty of mosquitoes -in other parts of Martinique, even in the higher mountain villages. The -flood of bright water that pours perpetually through all her streets, -renders her comparatively free from the pest;--nobody sleeps under a -mosquito bar. - -Nevertheless, St. Pierre is not exempt from other peculiar plagues of -tropical life; and you cannot be too careful about examining your bed -before venturing to lie down, and your clothing before you dress;--for -various disagreeable things might be hiding in them: a spider large as a -big crab, or a scorpion or a _mabouya_ or a centipede,--or certain large -ants whose bite burns like the pricking of a red-hot needle. No one who -has lived in St. Pierre is likely to forget the ants.... There are three -or four kinds in every house;--the _fourmi fou_ (mad ant), a little -speckled yellowish creature whose movements are so rapid as to delude -the vision; the great black ant which allows itself to be killed before -it lets go what it has bitten; the venomous little red ant, which is -almost too small to see; and the small black ant which does not bite at -all,--are usually omnipresent, and appear to dwell together in -harmony. They are pests in kitchens, cupboards, and safes; but they are -scavengers. It is marvellous to see them carrying away the body of -a great dead roach or centipede,--pulling and pushing together like -trained laborers, and guiding the corpse over obstacles or around them -with extraordinary skill.... There was a time when ants almost destroyed -the colony,--in 1751. The plantations, devastated by them are described -by historians as having looked as if desolated by fire. Underneath the -ground in certain places, layers of their eggs two inches deep were -found extending over acres. Infants left unwatched in the cradle for a -few hours were devoured alive by them. Immense balls of living ants -were washed ashore at the same time on various parts of the coast (a -phenomenon repeated within the memory of creoles now living in the -north-east parishes). The Government vainly offered rewards for the best -means of destroying the insects; but the plague gradually disappeared as -it came. - -None of these creatures can be prevented from entering a dwelling;--you -may as well resign yourself to the certainty of meeting with them from -time to time. The great spiders (with the exception of those which are -hairy) need excite no alarm or disgust;--indeed they are suffered to -live unmolested in many houses, partly owing to a belief that they bring -good-luck, and partly because they destroy multitudes of those enormous -and noisome roaches which spoil whatever they cannot eat. The scorpion -is less common; but it has a detestable habit of lurking under beds; and -its bite communicates a burning fever. With far less reason, the mabouya -is almost equally feared. It is a little lizard about six inches long, -and ashen-colored;--it haunts only the interior of houses, while the -bright-green lizards dwell only upon the roofs. Like other reptiles of -the same order, the mabouya can run over or cling to polished surfaces; -and there is a popular belief that if frightened, it will leap at one's -face or hands and there fasten itself so tightly that it cannot be -dislodged except by cutting it to pieces. Moreover, it's feet are -supposed to have the power of leaving certain livid and ineffaceable -marks upon the skin of the person to whom it attaches itself:--_ça ka -ba ou lota_, say the colored people. Nevertheless, there is no creature -more timid and harmless than the mabouya. - -But the most dreaded and the most insolent invader of domestic peace is -the centipede. The water system of the city banished the mosquito; but -it introduced the centipede into almost every dwelling. St. Pierre has a -plague of centipedes. All the covered drains, the gutters, the crevices -of fountain-basins and bathing-basins, the spaces between floor and -ground, shelter centipedes. And the _bête à-mille-pattes_ is the terror -of the barefooted population:--scarcely a day passes that some child or -bonne or workman is not bitten by the creature. - -The sight of a full-grown centipede is enough to affect a strong set -of nerves. Ten to eleven inches is the average length of adults; but -extraordinary individuals much exceeding this dimension may be sometimes -observed in the neighborhood of distilleries (_rhommeries_) and -sugar-refineries. According to age, the color of the creature varies -from yellowish to black;--the younger ones often have several different -tints; the old ones are uniformly jet-black, and have a carapace of -surprising toughness,--difficult to break. If you tread, by accident or -design, upon the tail, the poisonous head will instantly curl back and -bite the foot through any ordinary thickness of upper-leather. - -As a general rule the centipede lurks about the court-yards, -foundations, and drains by preference; but in the season of heavy rains -he does not hesitate to move upstairs, and make himself at home in -parlors and bed-rooms. He has a provoking habit of nestling in your -_moresques_ or your _chinoises_,--those wide light garments you put on -before taking your siesta or retiring for the night. He also likes to -get into your umbrella,--an article indispensable in the tropics; and -you had better never open it carelessly. He may even take a notion to -curl himself up in your hat, suspended on the wall. (I have known a -trigonocephalus to do the same thing in a country-house). He has also a -singular custom of mounting upon the long trailing dresses (douillettes) -worn by Martinique women,--and climbing up very swiftly and lightly to -the wearer's neck, where the prickling of his feet first betrays his -presence. Sometimes he will get into bed with you and bite you, because -you have not resolution enough to lie perfectly still while he is -tickling you.... It is well to remember before dressing that merely -shaking a garment may not dislodge him;--you must examine every part -very patiently,--particularly the sleeves of a coat and the legs of -pantaloons. - -The vitality of the creature is amazing. I kept one in a bottle without -food or water for thirteen weeks, at the end of which time it remained -active and dangerous as ever. Then I fed it with living insects, -which it devoured ravenously;--beetles, roaches, earthworms, several -_lepismaoe_, even one of the dangerous-looking millepedes, which have a -great resemblance in outward structure to the centipede, but a thinner -body, and more numerous limbs,--all seemed equally palatable to the -prisoner.... I knew an instance of one, nearly a foot long, remaining in -a silk parasol for more than four months, and emerging unexpectedly -one day, with aggressiveness undiminished, to bite the hand that had -involuntarily given it deliverance. - -In the city the centipede has but one natural enemy able to cope with -him,--the hen! The hen attacks him with delight, and often swallows him, -head first, without taking the trouble to kill him. The cat hunts him, -but she is careful never to put her head near him;--she has a trick of -whirling him round and round upon the floor so quickly as to stupefy -him: then, when she sees a good chance, she strikes him dead with her -claws. But if you are fond of your cat you will let her run no risks, as -the bite of a large centipede might have very bad results for your pet. -Its quickness of movement demands all the quickness of even the cat for -self-defence.... I know of men who have proved themselves able to seize -a fer-de-lance by the tail, whirl it round and round, and then flip it -as you would crack a whip,--whereupon the terrible head flies off; but I -never heard of anyone in Martinique daring to handle a living centipede. - -There are superstitions concerning the creature which have a good effect -in diminishing his tribe. If you kill a centipede, you are sure -to receive money soon; and even if you dream of killing one it -is good-luck. Consequently, people are glad of any chance to kill -centipedes,--usually taking a heavy stone or some iron utensil for the -work;--a wooden stick is not a good weapon. There is always a little -excitement when a _bête-ni-pié_ (as the centipede is termed in the -patois) exposes itself to death; and you may often hear those who kill -it uttering a sort of litany of abuse with every blow, as if addressing -a human enemy:--"_Quitté moin tchoué ou, maudi!--quitté moin tchoué -ou, scelerat!--quitté moin tchoué ou, Satan!--quitté moin tchoué -ou, abonocio!_" etc. (Let me kill you, accursed! scoundrel! Satan! -abomination!) - -The patois term for the centipede is not a mere corruption of the French -_bête-à-mille-pattes_. Among a population of slaves, unable to read or -write, [48] there were only the vaguest conceptions of numerical values; -and the French term bête-à-mille-pattes was not one which could appeal -to negro imagination. The slaves themselves invented an equally vivid -name, _bête-anni-pié_ (the Beast-which-is-all-feet); _anni_ in creole -signifying "only," and in such a sense "all." Abbreviated by subsequent -usage to _bête-'ni-pié_, the appellation has amphibology;--for there are -two words _ni_ in the patois, one signifying "to have," and the other -"naked." So that the creole for a centipede might be translated in three -ways,--"the Beast-which-is-all-feet"; or, "the Naked-footed Beast"; or, -with fine irony of affirmation, "the Beast-which-has-feet." - - -[Footnote 50: According to the Martinique "Annuaire" for 1887, there -were even then, out of a total population of 173,182, no less than -125,366 unable to read and write.] - - - - -II - - -What is the secret of that horror inspired by the centipede?... It -is but very faintly related to our knowledge that the creature is -venomous;--the results of the bite are only temporary swelling and a -brief fever;--it is less to be feared than the bite of other tropical -insects and reptiles which never inspire the same loathing by their -aspect. And the shapes of venomous creatures are not always shapes of -ugliness. The serpent has elegance of form as well as attractions -of metallic tinting;--the tarantula, or the _matoutou-falaise_, have -geometrical beauty. Lapidaries have in all ages expended rare skill -upon imitations of serpent grace in gold and gems;--a princess would not -scorn to wear a diamond spider. But what art could utilize successfully -the form of the centipede? It is a form of absolute repulsiveness,--a -skeleton-shape half defined:--the suggestion of some old reptile-spine -astir, crawling with its fragments of ribs. - -No other living thing excites exactly the same feeling produced by the -sight of the centipede,--the intense loathing and peculiar fear. The -instant you see a centipede you feel it is absolutely necessary to kill -it; you cannot find peace in your house while you know that such a life -exists in it: perhaps the intrusion of a serpent would annoy and -disgust you less. And it is not easy to explain the whole reason of this -loathing. The form alone has, of course, something to do with it,--a -form that seems almost a departure from natural laws. But the form alone -does not produce the full effect, which is only experienced when you see -the creature in motion. The true horror of the centipede, perhaps, must -be due to the monstrosity of its movement,--multiple and complex, as of -a chain of pursuing and inter-devouring lives: there is something about -it that makes you recoil, as from a sudden corrupt swarming-out. It is -confusing,--a series of contractings and lengthenings and, undulations -so rapid as to allow of being only half seen: it alarms also, because -the thing seems perpetually about to disappear, and because you know -that to lose sight of it for one moment involves the very unpleasant -chance of finding it upon you the next,--perhaps between skin and -clothing. - -But this is not all:--the sensation produced by the centipede is still -more complex--complex, in fact, as the visible organization of the -creature. For, during pursuit,--whether retreating or attacking, in -hiding or fleeing,--it displays a something which seems more than -instinct: calculation and cunning,--a sort of malevolent intelligence. -It knows how to delude, how to terrify;--it has marvellous skill in -feinting;--it is an abominable juggler.... - - - -III - - -I am about to leave my room after breakfast, when little Victoire who -carries the meals up-stairs in a wooden tray, screams out:--"_Gadé, -Missié! ni bête-ni-pié assous dos ou!_" There is a thousand-footed beast -upon my back! - -Off goes my coat, which I throw upon the floor;--the little servant, who -has a nervous horror of centipedes, climbs upon a chair. I cannot see -anything under the coat, nevertheless;--I lift it by the collar, turn it -about very cautiously--nothing! Suddenly the child screams again; and I -perceive the head close to my hand;--the execrable thing had been hiding -in a perpendicular fold of the coat, which I drop only just in time to -escape getting bitten. Immediately the centipede becomes invisible. -Then I take the coat by one flap, and turn it over very quickly: just -as quickly does the centipede pass over it in the inverse direction, and -disappear under it again. I have had my first good look at him: he -seems nearly a foot long,--has a greenish-yellow hue against the black -cloth,--and pink legs, and a violet head;--he is evidently young.... I -turn the coat a second time: same disgusting manreuvre. Undulations of -livid color flow over him as he lengthens and shortens;--while running -his shape is but half apparent; it is only as he makes a half pause in -doubling round and under the coat that the panic of his legs becomes -discernible. When he is fully exposed they move with invisible -rapidity,--like a vibration;--you can see only a sort of pink haze -extending about him,--something to which you would no more dare advance -your finger than to the vapory halo edging a circular saw in motion. -Twice more I turn and re-turn the coat with the same result;--I observe -that the centipede always runs towards my hand, until I withdraw it: he -feints! - -With a stick I uplift one portion of the coat after another; and -suddenly perceive him curved under a sleeve,--looking quite small!--how -could he have seemed so large a moment ago?... But before I can strike -him he has flickered over the cloth again, and vanished; and I discover -that he has the power of _magnifying himself_,--dilating the disgust of -his shape at will: he invariably amplifies himself to face attack.... - -It seems very difficult to dislodge him; he displays astonishing -activity and cunning at finding wrinkles and folds to hide in. Even at -the risk of damaging various things in the pockets, I stamp upon the -coat;--then lift it up with the expectation of finding the creature -dead. But it suddenly rushes out from some part or other, looking larger -and more wicked than ever,--drops to the floor, and charges at my feet: -a sortie! I strike at him unsuccessfully with the stick: he retreats -to the angle between wainscoting and floor, and runs along it fast as -a railroad train,--dodges two or three pokes,--gains the -door-frame,--glides behind a hinge, and commences to run over the wall -of the stair-way. There the hand of a black servant slaps him dead. - ---"Always strike at the head," the servant tells me; "never tread on the -tail.... This is a small one: the big fellows can make you afraid if you -do not know how to kill them." - -... I pick up the carcass with a pair of scissors. It does not look -formidable now that it is all contracted;--it is scarcely eight -inches long,--thin as card-board, and even less heavy. It has no -substantiality, no weight;--it is a mere appearance, a mask, a -delusion.... But remembering the spectral, cunning, juggling something -which magnified and moved it but a moment ago,--I feel almost tempted to -believe, with certain savages, that there are animal shapes inhabited by -goblins.... - - - - -IV - - ---"Is there anything still living and lurking in old black drains -of Thought,--any bigotry, any prejudice, anything in the moral world -whereunto the centipede may be likened?" - ---"Really, I do not know," replied the friend to whom I had put the -question; "but you need only go as far as the vegetable world for a -likeness. Did you ever see anything like this?" he added, opening a -drawer and taking therefrom something revolting, which, as he pressed it -in his hand, looked like a long thick bundle of dried centipedes. - ---"Touch them," he said, holding out to me the mass of articulated flat -bodies and bristling legs. - ---"Not for anything!" I replied, in astonished disgust. He laughed, and -opened his hand. As he did so, the mass expanded. - ---"Now look," he exclaimed! - -Then I saw that all the bodies were united at the tails--grew together -upon one thick flat annulated stalk... a plant!--"But here is the -fruit," he continued, taking from the same drawer a beautifully embossed -ovoid nut, large as a duck's egg, ruddy-colored, and so exquisitely -varnished by nature as to resemble a rosewood carving fresh from the -hands of the cabinet-maker. In its proper place among the leaves and -branches, it had the appearance of something delicious being devoured -by a multitude of centipedes. Inside was a kernel, hard and heavy as -iron-wood; but this in time, I was told, falls into dust: though the -beautiful shell remains always perfect. - -Negroes call it the _coco-macaque._ - - -[Illustration] - - - - -MA BONNE - - - - -I - - -I cannot teach Cyrillia the clock;--I have tried until both of us had -our patience strained to the breaking-point. Cyrillia still believes she -will learn how to tell the time some day or other;--I am certain that -she never will. "_Missié_," she says, "_lézhè pa aïen pou moin: c'est -minitt ka fouté moin yon travail!_"--the hours do not give her any -trouble; but the minutes are a frightful bore! And nevertheless, -Cyrillia is punctual as the sun;--she always brings my coffee and a -slice of corossol at five in the morning precisely. Her clock is the -_cabritt-bois_. The great cricket stops singing, she says, at half-past -four: the cessation of its chant awakens her. - ---"_Bonjou', Missié. Coument ou passé lanuitt?_"--"Thanks, my daughter, -I slept well."--"The weather is beautiful: if Missié would like to go -to the beach, his bathing-towels are ready."--"Good! Cyrillia; I will -go."... Such is our regular morning conversation. - -Nobody breakfasts before eleven o'clock or thereabout; but after an -early sea-bath, one is apt to feel a little hollow during the morning, -unless one take some sort of refreshment. Cyrillia always prepares -something for me on my return from the beach,--either a little pot of -fresh cocoa-water, or a _cocoyage_, or a _mabiyage_, or a _bavaroise_. - -The _cocoyage_ I like the best of all. Cyrillia takes a green cocoa-nut, -slices off one side of it so as to open a hole, then pours the -opalescent water into a bowl, adds to it a fresh egg, a little Holland -gin, and some grated nutmeg and plenty of sugar. Then she whips up the -mixture into effervescence with her _baton-lélé_. The _baton-lélé_ is an -indispensaple article in every creole home: it is a thin stick which is -cut from a young tree so as to leave at one end a whorl of branch-stumps -sticking out at right angles like spokes;--by twirling the stem between -the hands, the stumps whip up the drink in a moment. - -The _mabiyage_ is less agreeable, but is a popular morning drink among -the poorer classes. It is made with a little white rum and a bottle of -the bitter native root-beer called _mabi_. The taste of _mabi_ I can -only describe as that of molasses and water flavored with a little -cinchona bark. - -The _bavaroise_ is fresh milk, sugar, and a little Holland gin or -rum,--mixed with the baton-lélé until a fine thick foam is formed. -After the _cocoyage_, I think it is the best drink one can take in the -morning; but very little spirit must be used for any of these mixtures. -It is not until just before the mid-day meal that one can venture to -take a serious stimulant,--_yon ti ponch_,--rum and water, sweetened -with plenty of sugar or sugar syrup. - -The word _sucre_ is rarely used in Martinique,--considering that sugar -is still the chief product;--the word _doux_, "sweet," is commonly -substituted for it. _Doux_ has, however, a larger range of meaning: it -may signify syrup, or any sort of sweets,--duplicated into _doudoux_, it -means the corossole fruit as well as a sweetheart. _Ça qui lè doudoux?_ -is the cry of the corossole-seller. If a negro asks at a grocery store -(_graisserie_) for _sique_ instead of for _doux_, it is only because he -does not want it to be supposed that he means syrup;--as a general rule, -he will only use the word _sique_ when referring to quality of -sugar wanted, or to sugar in hogsheads. _Doux_ enters into domestic -consumption in quite remarkable ways. People put sugar into fresh milk, -English porter, beer, and cheap wine;--they cook various vegetables -with sugar, such as peas; they seem to be particularly fond of -sugar-and-water and of _d'leau-pain_,--bread-and-water boiled, strained, -mixed with sugar, and flavored with cinnamon. The stranger gets -accustomed to all this sweetness without evil results. In a northern -climate the consequence would probably be at least a bilious attack; but -in the tropics, where salt fish and fruits are popularly preferred to -meat, the prodigal use of sugar or sugar-syrups appears to be decidedly -beneficial. - -... After Cyrillia has prepared my _cocoyage_, and rinsed the -bathing-towels in fresh-water, she is ready to go to market, and wants -to know what I would like to eat for breakfast. "Anything creole, -Cyrillia;--I want to know what people eat in this country." She always -does her best to please me in this respect,--almost daily introduces me -to some unfamiliar dishes, something odd in the way of fruit or fish. - - - - -II - - -Cyrillia has given me a good idea of the range and character of -_mangé-Créole_, and I can venture to write something about it after a -year's observation. By _mangé-Créole_ I refer only to the food of the -people proper, the colored population; for the _cuisine_ of the small -class of wealthy whites is chiefly European, and devoid of local -interest:--I might observe, however, that the fashion of cooking is -rather Provençal than Parisian;--rather of southern than of northern -France. - -Meat, whether fresh or salt, enters little into the nourishment of the -poorer classes. This is partly, no doubt, because of the cost of all -meats; but it is also due to natural preference for fruits and -fish. When fresh meat is purchased, it is usually to make a stew or -_daube_;--probably salt meats are more popular; and native vegetables -and manioc flour are preferred to bread. There are only two popular -soups which are peculiar to the creole cuisine,--_calalou_, a -gombo soup, almost precisely similar to that of Louisiana; and the -_soupe-d'habitant_, or "country soup." It is made of yams, carrots, -bananas, turnips, _choux-caraïbes_, pumpkins, salt pork, and pimento, -all boiled together;--the salt meat being left out of the composition on -Fridays. - -The great staple, the true meat of the population, is salt codfish, -which is prepared in a great number of ways. The most popular and the -rudest preparation of it is called "Ferocious" (_férocé_); and it is -not at all unpalatable. The codfish is simply fried, and served with -vinegar, oil, pimento;--manioc flour and avocados being considered -indispensable adjuncts. As manioc flour forms a part of almost every -creole meal, a word of information regarding it will not be out of place -here. Everybody who has heard the name probably knows that the manioc -root is naturally poisonous, and that the toxic elements must be removed -by pressure and desiccation before the flour can be made. Good manioc -flour has an appearance like very coarse oatmeal; and is probably quite -as nourishing. Even when dear as bread, it is preferred, and forms -the flour of the population, by whom the word _farine_ is only used -to signify manioc flour: if wheat-flour be referred to it is always -qualified as "French flour" (_farine-Fouance_). Although certain flours -are regularly advertised as American in the local papers, they are still -_farine-Fouance_ for the population, who call everything foreign French. -American beer is _biè-Fouance_; American canned peas, _ti-pois-Fouance_; -any white foreigner who can talk French is _yon béké-Fouance_. - -Usually the manioc flour is eaten uncooked:[51] merely poured into a -plate, with a little water and stirred with a spoon into a thick paste -or mush,--the thicker the better;--_dleau passé farine_ (more water -than manioc flour) is a saying which describes the condition of a very -destitute person. When not served with fish, the flour is occasionally -mixed with water and refined molasses (_sirop-battrie_): this -preparation, which is very nice, is called _cousscaye_. There is also a -way of boiling it with molasses and milk into a kind of pudding. This -is called _matêté_; children are very fond of it. Both of these names, -_cousscaye_ and _matêté_, are alleged to be of Carib origin: the art of -preparing the flour itself from manioc root is certainly an inheritance -from the Caribs, who bequeathed many singular words to the creole patois -of the French West Indies. - -Of all the preparations of codfish with which manioc flour is eaten, -I preferred the _lamori-bouilli_,--the fish boiled plain, after having -been steeped long enough to remove the excess of salt; and then served -with plenty of olive-oil and pimento. The people who have no home of -their own, or at least no place to cook, can buy their food already -prepared from the _màchannes lapacotte_, who seem to make a specialty -of _macadam_ (codfish stewed with rice) and the other two dishes already -referred to. But in every colored family there are occasional feasts -of _lamori-au-laitt_, codfish stewed with milk and potatoes; -_lamori-au-grattin_, codfish boned, pounded with toast crumbs, and -boiled with butter, onions, and pepper into a mush;--_coubouyon-lamori_, -codfish stewed with butter and oil;--_bachamelle_, codfish boned and -stewed with potatoes, pimentos, oil, garlic, and butter. - -_Pimento_ is an essential accompaniment to all these dishes, whether -it be cooked or raw: everything is served with plenty of pimento,-_en -pile_, _en pile piment._ Among the various kinds I can mention only the -_piment-café_, or "coffee-pepper," larger but about the same shape as a -grain of Liberian coffee, violet-red at one end; the _piment-zouèseau_, -or bird-pepper, small and long and scarlet;--and the _piment-capresse_, -very large, pointed at one end, and bag-shaped at the other. It takes a -very deep red color when ripe, and is so strong that if you only break -the pod in a room, the sharp perfume instantly fills the apartment. -Unless you are as well-trained as any Mexican to eat pimento, you will -probably regret your first encounter with the _capresse_. - -Cyrillia told me a story about this infernal vegetable. - - -[Footnote 51: There is record of an attempt to manufacture bread with -one part manioc flour to three of wheat flour. The result was excellent; -but no serious effort was ever made to put the manioc bread on the -market.] - - - - -III - - -ZHISTOUÈ PIMENT. - -Té ni yon manman qui té ni en pile, en pile yche; et yon jou y pa té ni -aïen pou y té baill yche-là mangé. Y té ka lévé bon matin-là sans yon -sou: y pa sa ça y té douè fai,--là y té ké baill latête. Y allé -lacaïe macoumè-y, raconté lapeine-y. Macoumè baill y toua chopine -farine-manioc. Y allé lacaill liautt macoumè, qui baill y yon grand -trai piment. Macoumè-là di y venne trai-piment-à, épi y té pè acheté -lamori,--pisse y ja té ni farine. Madame-là di: "Mèçi, macoumè;"--y di y -bonjou'; épi y allé lacaïe-y. - -Lhè y rivé àcaïe y limé difè: y metté canari épi dleau assous difé-a; -épi y cassé toutt piment-là et metté yo adans canari-à assous diré. - -Lhè y oue canari-à ka bouï, y pouend _baton-lélé_, epi y lélé piment-à: -aloss y ka fai yonne calalou-piment. Lhè calalou-piment-là té tchouitt, -y pouend chaque zassiett yche-li; y metté calalou yo fouète dans -zassiett-là; y metté ta-mari fouète, assou, épi ta-y. Épi lhè calalou-là -té bien fouète, y metté farine nans chaque zassiett-là. Épi y crié toutt -moune vini mangé. Toutt moune vini metté yo à-tabe. - -Pouèmiè bouchée mari-à pouend, y rété,--y crié: "Aïe! ouaill! mafenm!" -Fenm-là réponne mari y: "Ouaill! monmari!" Cés ti manmaille-la crie: -"Ouaill! manman!" Manman-à. réponne:--"Ouaill! yches-moin!"... Yo toutt -pouend couri, quitté caïe-là sèle,--épi yo toutt tombé larviè à touempé -bouche yo. Cés ti manmaille-là bouè dleau sitellement jusse temps yo -toutt néyé: té ka rété anni manman-là épi papa-là. Yo té là bò lariviè, -qui té ka pleiré. Moin té ka passé à lhè-à;--moin ka mandé yo: "Ça zautt -ni?" - -Nhomme-là lévé: y baill moin yon sèle coup d'piè, y voyé moin lautt bo -lariviè-ou ouè moin vini pou conté ça ba ou. - -There was once a mamma who had ever so many children; and one day she -had nothing to give those children to eat. She had got up very early -that morning, without a sou in the world: she did not know what to do: -she was so worried that her head was upset. She went to the house of a -woman-friend, and told her about her trouble. The friend gave her three -_chopines_ [three pints] of manioc flour. Then she went to the house -of another female friend, who gave her a big trayful of pimentos. The -friend told her to sell that tray of pimentos: then she could buy some -codfish,--since she already had some manioc flour. The good-wife said: -"Thank you, _macoumè_,"--she bid her good-day, and then went to her own -house. - -The moment she got home, she made a fire, and put her _canari_ [earthen -pot] full of water on the fire to boil: then she broke up all the -pimentos and put them into the canari on the fire. - -As soon as she saw the canari boiling, she took her _baton-lélé_, and -beat up all those pimentos: then she made a _pimento-calalou_. When the -pimento-calalou was well cooked, she took each one of the children's -plates, and poured their calalou into the plates to cool it; she also -put her husband's out to cool, and her own. And when the calalou was -quite cool, she put some manioc flour into each of the plates. Then -she called to everybody to come and eat. They all came, and sat down to -table. - -The first mouthful that husband took he stopped and screamed:--"_Aïe! -ouaill!_ my wife!" The woman answered her husband: "_Ouaill_! my -husband!" The little children all screamed: "_Ouaill!_ mamma!" Their -mamma answered: "_Ouaill!_ my children!"... They all ran out, left the -house empty; and they tumbled into the river to steep their mouths. -Those little children just drank water and drank water till they were -all drowned: there was nobody left except the mamma and the papa, They -stayed there on the river-bank, and cried. I was passing that way just -at that time;--I asked them: "What ails you people?" That man got up and -gave me just one kick that sent me right across the river; I came here -at once, as you see, to tell you all about it.... - - - - -IV - - -... It is no use for me to attempt anything like a detailed description -of the fish Cyrillia brings me day after day from the Place du Fort: the -variety seems to be infinite. I have learned, however, one curious fact -which is worth noting: that, as a general rule, the more beautifully -colored fish are the least palatable, and are sought after only by the -poor. The _perroquet_, black, with bright bands of red and yellow; -the _cirurgien_, blue and black; the _patate_, yellow and black; the -_moringue_, which looks like polished granite; the _souri_, pink -and yellow; the vermilion _Gouôs-zie_; the rosy _sade_; the red -_Bon-Dié-manié-moin_ ("the-Good-God-handled-me")--it has two queer marks -as of great fingers; and the various kinds of all-blue fish, _balaou_, -_conliou_, etc. varying from steel-color to violet,--these are seldom -seen at the tables of the rich. There are exceptions, of course, to this -and all general rules: notably the _couronné_, pink spotted beautifully -with black,--a sort of Redfish, which never sells less than fourteen -cents a pound; and the _zorphie_, which has exquisite changing lights -of nacreous green and purple. It is said, however, that the zorphi is -sometimes poisonous, like the _bécunne_; and there are many fish which, -although not venomous by nature, have always been considered dangerous. -In the time of Père Dutertre it was believed these fish ate the apples -of the manchineel-tree, washed into the sea by rains;--to-day it is -popularly supposed that they are rendered occasionally poisonous by -eating the barnacles attached to copper-plating of ships. The _tazard_, -the _lune_, the _capitaine_, the _dorade_, the _perroquet_, the -_couliou_, the _congre_, various crabs, and even the _tonne_,--all -are dangerous unless perfectly fresh: the least decomposition seems -to develop a mysterious poison. A singular phenomenon regarding the -poisoning occasionally produced by the bécunne and dorade is that the -skin peels from the hands and feet of those lucky enough to survive -the terrible colics, burnings, itchings, and delirium, which are early -symptoms, Happily these accidents are very rare, since the markets have -been properly inspected: in the time of Dr. Rufz, they would seem to -have been very common,--so common that he tells us he would not eat -fresh fish without being perfectly certain where it was caught and how -long it had been out of the water. - -The poor buy the brightly colored fish only when the finer qualities -are not obtainable at low rates; but often and often the catch is so -enormous that half of it has to be thrown back into the sea. In the hot -moist air, fish decomposes very rapidly; it is impossible to transport -it to any distance into the interior; and only the inhabitants of the -coast can indulge in fresh fish,--at least sea-fish. - -Naturally, among the laboring class the question of quality is less -important than that of quantity and substance, unless the fish-market be -extraordinarily well stocked. Of all fresh fish, the most popular is the -_tonne_, a great blue-gray creature whose flesh is solid as beef; next -come in order of preferment the flying-fish (_volants_), which often -sell as low as four for a cent;--then the _lambi_, or sea-snail, which -has a very dense and nutritious flesh;--then the small whitish fish -classed as _sàdines_;--then the blue-colored fishes according to price, -_couliou_, _balaou_, etc.;--lastly, the shark, which sells commonly at -two cents a pound. Large sharks are not edible; the flesh is too hard; -but a young shark is very good eating indeed. Cyrillia cooked me a slice -one morning: it was quite delicate, tasted almost like veal. - -The quantity of very small fish sold is surprising. With ten sous the -family of a laborer can have a good fish-dinner: a pound of _sàdines_ is -never dearer than two sous;--a pint of manioc flour can be had for the -same price; and a big avocado sells for a sou. This is more than enough -food for any one person; and by doubling the expense one obtains a -proportionately greater quantity--enough for four or five individuals. -The _sàdines_ are roasted over a charcoal fire, and flavored with a -sauce of lemon, pimento, and garlic. When there are no _sàdines_, there -are sure to be _coulious_ in plenty,--small _coulious_ about as long as -your little finger: these are more delicate, and fetch double the price. -With four sous' worth of _coulious_ a family can have a superb _blaffe_. -To make a _blaffe_ the fish are cooked in water, and served with -pimento, lemon, spices, onions, and garlic; but without oil or butter. -Experience has demonstrated that _coulious_ make the best _blaffe_; and -a _blaffe_ is seldom prepared with other fish. - - - - -V - - -There are four dishes which are the holiday luxuries of the -poor:--_manicou_, _ver-palmiste_, _zandouille_, and _poule-épi-diri_.[52] - - -[Illustration: MARKET, FORT-DE FRANCE -_Daily, at dawn, these carriers stream in from the -country with burdens of fruit upon their heads._] - - -The _manitou_ is a brave little marsupial, which might be called -the opossum of Martinique: it fights, although overmatched, with the -serpent, and is a great enemy to the field-rat. In the market a manicou -sells for two francs and a half at cheapest: it is generally salted -before being cooked. - -The great worm, or caterpillar, called _ver-palmiste_ is found in the -heads of cabbage-palms,--especially after the cabbage has been cut out, -and the tree has begun to perish. It is the grub of a curious beetle, -which has a proboscis of such form as suggested the creole appellation, -_léfant_: the "elephant." These worms are sold in the Place du Fort at -two sous each: they are spitted and roasted alive, and are said to taste -like almonds. I have never tried to find out whether this be fact or -fancy; and I am glad to say that few white creoles confess a liking for -this barbarous food. - -The _zandouilles_ are delicious sausages made with pig-buff,--and only -seen in the market on Sundays. They cost a franc and a half each; and -there are several women who have an established reputation throughout -Martinique for their skill in making them. I have tasted some not less -palatable than the famous London "pork-pies." Those of Lamentin are -reputed the best in the island. - -But _poule-épi-diri_ is certainly the most popular dish of all: it is -the dearest, as well, and poor people can rarely afford it. In Louisiana -an almost similar dish is called _jimbalaya_: chicken cooked with rice. -The Martiniquais think it such a delicacy that an over-exacting person, -or one difficult to satisfy, is reproved with the simple question:--"_Ça -ou lè 'nco-poule, épi-diri?_" (What more do you want, great -heavens!--chicken-and-rice?) Naughty children are bribed into absolute -goodness by the promise of poule-épi-diri:-- - - ---"_Aïe! chè, bò doudoux! -Doudoux ba ou poule-épi-diri; -Aïe! chè, bò doudoux!_"... - -(Aïe, dear! kiss _doudoux!--doudoux_ has rice-and-chicken for -you!--_aïe_, dear! kiss _doudoux!_) - - -How far rice enters into the success of the dish above mentioned I -cannot say; but rice ranks in favor generally above all cereals; it is -at least six times more in demand than maize. _Diri-doux_, rice boiled -with sugar, is sold in prodigious quantities daily,--especially at -the markets, where little heaps of it, rolled in pieces of banana -or _cachibou_ leaves, are retailed at a cent each. _Diri-aulaitt_, a -veritable rice-pudding, is also very popular; but it would weary the -reader to mention one-tenth of the creole preparations into which rice -enters. - - -[Footnote 52: I must mention a surreptitious dish, _chatt_;--needless to -say the cats are not sold, but stolen. It is true that only a small -class of poor people eat cats; but they eat so many cats that cats have -become quite rare in St Pierre. The custom is purely superstitious: it -is alleged that if you eat cat seven times, or if you eat seven cats, no -witch, wizard, or _quimboiseur_ can ever do you any harm; and the cat -ought to be eaten on Christmas Eve in order that the meal be perfectly -efficacious. . . . The mystic number "seven" enters into another and a -better creole superstition;--if you kill a serpent, seven great sins are -forgiven to you: _ou ké ni sept grands péchés effacé._] - - - - -VI - - -Everybody eats _akras_;--they sell at a cent apiece. The akra is a small -fritter or pancake, which may be made of fifty different things,--among -others codfish, titiri, beans, brains, _choux-caraïbes_, little -black peas (_poix-zié-nouè_, "black-eyed peas"), or of crawfish -(_akra-cribîche_). When made of carrots, bananas, chicken, palm-cabbage, -etc. and sweetened, they are called _marinades_. On first acquaintance -they seem rather greasy for so hot a climate; but one learns, on -becoming accustomed to tropical conditions, that a certain amount of -oily or greasy food is both healthy and needful. - -First among popular vegetables are beans. Red beans are preferred; but -boiled white beans, served cold with vinegar and plenty of oil, form a -favorite salad. Next in order of preferment come the _choux-caraïbes_, -_patates_, _zignames_, _camanioc_, and _cousscouche_: all immense -roots,--the true potatoes of the tropics. The camanioc is finer than the -choux-caraïbe, boils whiter and softer: in appearance it resembles the -manioc root very closely, but has no toxic element. The cousscouche is -the best of all: the finest Irish potato boiled into sparkling flour -is not so good. Most of these roots can be cooked into a sort of mush, -called _migan_: such as _migan-choux_, made with the choux-caraïbe; -_migan-zignames_, made with yams; _migan-cousscouche_, etc.,--in which -case crabs or shrimps are usually served with the _migan_. There is a -particular fondness for the little rosy crab called _tourlouroux_, in -patois _touloulou_. _Migan_ is also made with bread-fruit. Very large -bananas or plantains are boiled with codfish, with _daubes_, or -meat stews, and with eggs. The bread-fruit is a fair substitute for -vegetables. It must be cooked very thoroughly, and has a dry potato -taste. What is called the _fleu-fouitt-à-pain_, or "bread-fruit -flower"--a long pod-shaped solid growth, covered exteriorly with tiny -seeds closely set as pin-heads could be, and having an interior pith -very elastic and resistant,--is candied into a delicious sweetmeat. - - - - -VII - - -The consumption of bananas is enormous: more bananas are eaten than -vegetables; and more banana-trees are yearly being cultivated. The negro -seems to recognize instinctively that economical value of the banana to -which attention was long since called by Humboldt, who estimated that -while an acre planted in wheat would barely support three persons, an -acre planted in banana-trees would nourish fifty. - -Bananas and plantains hold the first place among fruits in popular -esteem;--they are cooked in every way, and served with almost every sort -of meat or fish. What we call bananas in the United States, however, are -not called bananas in Martinique, but figs (_figues_). Plantains seem -to be called _bananes_. One is often surprised at popular nomenclature: -_choux_ may mean either a sort of root (_choux-caraïbe_), or the top -of the cabbage-palm; _Jacquot_ may mean a fish; _cabane_ never means -a cabin, but a bed; _crickett_ means not a cricket, but a frog; and at -least fifty other words have equally deceptive uses. If one desires -to speak of real figs--dried figs--he must say _figues-Fouanc_ (French -figs); otherwise nobody will understand him. There are many kinds -of bananas here called _figues_,--the four most popular are the -_figues-bananes_, which are plantains, I think; the _figues-makouenga_, -which grow wild, and have a red skin; the _figues-pommes_ -(apple-bananas), which are large and yellow; and the _ti-figues-desse_ -(little-dessert-bananas), which are to be seen on all tables in St. -Pierre. They are small, sweet, and always agreeable, even when one has -no appetite for other fruits. - -It requires some little time to become accustomed to many tropical -fruits, or at least to find patience as well as inclination to eat them. -A large number, in spite of delicious flavor, are provokingly stony: -such as the ripe guavas, the cherries, the barbadines; even the -corrossole and _pomme-cannelle_ are little more than huge masses of -very hard seeds buried in pulp of exquisite taste. The _sapota_, or -_sapodtilla_, is less characterized by stoniness, and one soon learns to -like it. It has large flat seeds, which can be split into two with the -finger-nail; and a fine white skin lies between these two halves. It -requires some skill to remove entire this little skin, or pellicle, -without breaking it: to do so is said to be a test of affection. Perhaps -this bit of folk-lore was suggested by the shape of the pellicle, which -is that of a heart. The pretty fille-de-couleur asks her doudoux:--"_Ess -ou ainmein moin?--pouloss tiré ti lapeau-là sans cassé-y_." Woe to -him if he breaks it!... The most disagreeable fruit is, I think, the -_pomme-d'Haiti_, or Haytian apple: it is very attractive exteriorly; -but has a strong musky odor and taste which nauseates. Few white creoles -ever eat it. - -Of the oranges, nothing except praise can be said; but there are -fruits that look like oranges, and are not oranges, that are far more -noteworthy. There is the _chadèque_, which grows here to fully three -feet in circumference, and has a sweet pink pulp; and there is the -"forbidden-fruit" (_fouitt-défendu_), a sort of cross between the orange -and the chadèque, and superior to both. The colored people declare that -this monster fruit is the same which grew in Eden upon the fatal tree: -_c'est ça mênm qui fai moune ka fai yche conm ça atouelement!_ The -fouitt-défendu is wonderful, indeed, in its way; but the fruit which -most surprised me on my first acquaintance with it was the _zabricôt_. - ---"_Ou lè yon zabricôt?_" (Would you like an apricot?) Cyrillia asked -me one day. I replied that I liked apricots very much,--wanted more than -one. Cyrillia looked astonished, but said nothing until she -returned from market, and put on the table _two_ apricots, with the -observation:--"_Ça ke fai ou malade mangé toutt ça!_" (You will get sick -if you eat all that.) I could not eat even half of one of them. Imagine -a plum larger than the largest turnip, with a skin like a russet apple, -solid sweet flesh of a carrot-red color, and a nut in the middle bigger -than a duck's egg and hard as a rock. These fruits are aromatic as well -as sweet to the taste: the price varies from one to four cents each, -according to size. The tree is indigenous to the West Indies; the -aborigines of Hayti had a strange belief regarding it. They alleged that -its fruits formed the nourishment of the dead; and however pressed by -hunger, an Indian in the woods would rather remain without food than -strip one of these trees, lest he should deprive the ghosts of their -sustenance.... No trace of this belief seems to exist among the colored -people of Martinique. - -Among the poor such fruits are luxuries: they eat more mangoes than -any other fruits excepting bananas. It is rather slobbery work eating -a common mango, in which every particle of pulp is threaded fast to -the kernel: one prefers to gnaw it when alone. But there are cultivated -mangoes with finer and thicker flesh which can be sliced off, so that -the greater part of the fruit may be eaten without smearing and sucking. -Among grafted varieties the _mangue_ is quite as delicious as the -orange. Perhaps there are nearly as many varieties of mangoes in -Martinique as there are varieties of peaches with us: I am acquainted, -however, with only a few,--such as the _mango-Bassignac_;--_mango-pêche_ -(or peach-mango);--_mango-vert_ (green mango), very large and -oblong;--_mango-grêffé_;--_mangotine_, quite round and -small;--_mango-quinette_, very small also, almost egg-shaped;--_mango-Zézé_, -very sweet, rather small, and of flattened form;--_mango-d'or_ (golden -mango), worth half a franc each;--_mango-Lamentin_, a highly cultivated -variety--and the superb _Reine-Amélie_ (or Queen Amelia), a great yellow -fruit which retails even in Martinique at five cents apiece. - - - - -VIII - - -... "_Ou c'est bonhomme caton?-ou c'est zimage, non?_" (Am I a -pasteboard man, or an image, that I do not eat?) Cyrillia wants to know. -The fact is that I am a little overfed; but the stranger in the tropics -cannot eat like a native, and my abstemiousness is a surprise. In the -North we eat a good deal for the sake of caloric; in the tropics, unless -one be in the habit of taking much physical exercise, which is a very -difficult thing to do, a generous appetite is out of the question. -Cyrillia will not suffer me to live upon _mangé-Creole_ altogether; she -insists upon occasional beefsteaks and roasts, and tries to tempt me -with all kinds of queer delicious, desserts as well,--particularly those -cakes made of grated cocoanut and sugar-syrup (_tablett-coco-rapé_) -of which a stranger becomes very fond. But, nevertheless, I cannot eat -enough to quiet Cyrillia's fears. - -Not eating enough is not her only complaint against me. I am perpetually -doing something or other which shocks her. The Creoles are the most -cautious livers in the world, perhaps;--the stranger who walks in the -sun without an umbrella, or stands in currents of air, is for them -an object of wonder and compassion. Cyrillia's complaints about my -recklessness in the matter of hygiene always terminate with the refrain: -"_Yo pa fai ça içi_"--(People never do such things in Martinique.) Among -such rash acts are washing one's face or hands while perspiring, taking -off one's hat on coming in from a walk, going out immediately after -a bath, and washing my face with soap. "Oh, Cyrillia! what -foolishness!--why should I not wash my face with soap? Because it will -blind you," Cyrillia answers: "_ça ké tchoué limiè zié ou_" (it will -kill the light in your eyes). There is no cleaner person than Cyrillia; -and, indeed among the city people, the daily bath is the rule in all -weathers; but soap is never used on the face by thousands, who, like -Cyrillia, believe it will "kill the light of the eyes." - -One day I had been taking a long walk in the sun, and returned so -thirsty that all the old stories about travellers suffering in waterless -deserts returned to memory with new significance;--visions of simooms -arose before me. What a delight to see and to grasp the heavy, red, -thick-lipped _dobanne_, the water-jar, dewy and cool with the exudation -of the _Eau-de-Gouyave_ which filled it to the brim,--_toutt vivant_, -as Cyrillia says, "all alive"! There was a sudden scream,--the -water-pitcher was snatched from my hands by Cyrillia with the question: -"_Ess ou lè tchoué cò-ou?--Saint Joseph!_" (Did I want to kill my -body?)... The Creoles use the word "body" in speaking of anything that -can happen to one,--"hurt one's body, tire one's body, marry -one's body, bury one's body," etc.;--I wonder whether the expression -originated in zealous desire to prove a profound faith in the soul.... -Then Cyrillia made me a little punch with sugar and rum, and told me -I must never drink fresh-water after a walk unless I wanted to kill my -body. In this matter her advice was good. The immediate result of a -cold drink while heated is a profuse and icy perspiration, during which -currents of air are really dangerous. A cold is not dreaded here, and -colds are rare; but pleurisy is common, and may be the consequence of -any imprudent exposure. - -I do not often have the opportunity at home of committing even an -unconscious imprudence; for Cyrillia is ubiquitous, and always on the -watch lest something dreadful should happen to me. She is wonderful as -a house-keeper as well as a cook: there is certainly much to do, and -she has only a child to help her, but she always seems to have time. -Her kitchen apparatus is of the simplest kind: a charcoal furnace -constructed of bricks, a few earthenware pots (_canar_), and some -grid-irons;--yet with these she can certainly prepare as many dishes as -there are days in the year. I have never known her to be busy with her -_canari_ for more than an hour; yet everything is kept in perfect order. -When she is not working, she is quite happy in sitting at a window, and -amusing herself by watching the life of the street,--or playing with -a kitten, which she has trained so well that it seems to understand -everything she says. - - - - -IX - - -With darkness all the population of the island retire to their -homes;--the streets become silent, and the life of the day is done. -By eight o'clock nearly all the windows are closed, and the lights put -out;--by nine the people are asleep. There are no evening parties, no -night amusements, except during rare theatrical seasons and times of -Carnival; there are no evening visits: active existence is almost timed -by the rising and setting of the sun.... The only pleasure left for the -stranger of evenings is a quiet smoke on his balcony or before his door: -reading is out of the question, partly because books are rare, partly -because lights are bad, partly because insects throng about every lamp -or candle. I am lucky enough to have a balcony, broad enough for a -rocking-chair; and sometimes Cyrillia and the kitten come to keep me -company before bedtime. The kitten climbs on my knees; Cyrillia sits -right down upon the balcony. - -One bright evening, Cyrillia was amusing herself very much by watching -the clouds: they were floating high; the moonlight made them brilliant -as frost. As they changed shape under the pressure of the trade-wind, -Cyrillia seemed to discover wonderful things in them: sheep, ships with -sails, cows, faces, perhaps even _zombis_. - ---"_Travaill Bon-Dié joli,--anh?_" (Is not the work of the Good-God -pretty?) she said at last.... "There was Madame Remy, who used to sell -the finest _foulards_ and Madrases in St. Pierre;--she used to study the -clouds. She drew the patterns of the clouds for her _foulards_: whenever -she saw a beautiful cloud or a beautiful rainbow, she would make a -drawing of it in color at once; and then she would send that to France -to have _foulards_ made just like it.... Since she is dead, you do not -see any more pretty _foulards_ such as there used to be."... - ---"Would you like to look at the moon with my telescope, Cyrillia?" I -asked. "Let me get it for you." - ---"Oh no, no!" she answered, as if shocked. - ---"Why?" - ---"_Ah! faut pa gàdé baggaïe Bon-Dié conm ça!_" (It is not right to look -at the things of the Good-God that way.) - -I did not insist. After a little silence, Cyrillia resumed:-- - ---"But I saw the Sun and the Moon once fighting together: that was what -people call an _eclipse_,--is not that the word?... They fought together -a long time: I was looking at them. We put a _terrine_ full of water -on the ground, and looked into the water to see them. And the Moon is -stronger than the Sun!--yes, the Sun was obliged to give way to the -Moon.... Why do they fight like that?" - ---"They don't, Cyrillia." - ---"Oh yes, they do. I saw them!... And the Moon is much stronger than -the Sun!" - -I did not attempt to contradict this testimony of the eyes. Cyrillia -continued to watch the pretty clouds. Then she said:--"Would you not -like to have a ladder long enough to let you climb up to those clouds, -and see what they are made of?" - ---"Why, Cyrillia, they are only vapor,--brume: I have been in clouds." - -She looked at me in surprise, and, after a moment's silence, asked, with -an irony of which I had not supposed her capable:-- - ---"Then you are the Good-God?" - ---"Why, Cyrillia, it is not difficult to reach clouds. You see clouds -always upon the top of the Montagne Pelée;--people go there. I have been -there--in the clouds." - ---"Ah! those are not the same clouds: those are not the clouds of the -Good-God. You cannot touch the sky when you are on the Morne de la -Croix." - ---"My dear Cyrillia, there is no sky to touch. The sky is only an -appearance." - ---"_Anh, anh, anh!_ No sky!--you say there is no sky?... Then, what is -that up there?" - ---"That is air, Cyrillia, beautiful blue air." - ---"And what are the stars fastened to?" - ---"To nothing. They are suns, but so much further away than our sun that -they look small." - ---"No, they are not suns! They have not the same form as the sun... You -must not say there is no sky: it is wicked! But you are not a Catholic!" - ---"My dear Cyrillia, I don't see what that has to do with the sky." - ---"Where does the Good-God stay, if there be no sky? And where is -heaven?--and where is hell?" - ---"Hell in the sky, Cyrillia?" - ---"The Good-God made heaven in one part of the sky, and hell in another -part, for bad people.... Ah! you are a Protestant;--you do not know the -things of the Good-God! That is why you talk like that." - ---"What is a Protestant, Cyrillia?" - ---"You are one. The Protestants do not believe in religion,--do not love -the Good-God." - ---"Well, I am neither a Protestant nor a Catholic, Cyrillia." - ---"Oh! you do not mean that; you cannot be a _maudi_, an accursed. There -are only the Protestants, the Catholics, and the accursed. You are not a -_maudi_, I am sure, But you must not say there is no sky"... - ---"But, Cyrillia"-- - ---"No: I will not listen to you:--you are a Protestant. Where does the -rain come from, if there is no sky,"... - ---"Why, Cyrillia... the clouds"... - ---"No, you are a Protestant.... How can you say such things? There are -the Three Kings and the Three Valets,--the beautiful stars that come -at Christmas-time,--there, over there--all beautiful, and big, big, -big!... And you say there is no sky!" - ---"Cyrillia, perhaps I am a _maudi_." - ---"No, no! You are only a Protestant. But do not tell me there is no -sky: it is wicked to say that!" - ---"I won't say it any more, Cyrillia--there! But I will say there are no -_zombis_." - ---"I know you are not a _maudi_;--you have been baptized." - ---"How do you know I have been baptized?" - ---"Because, if you had not been baptized you would see _zombis_ all -the time, even in broad day. All children who are not baptized see -_zombis_."... - - - - -X - - -Cyrilla's solicitude for me extends beyond the commonplaces of hygiene -and diet into the uncertain domain of matters ghostly. She fears much -that something might happen to me through the agency of wizards, witches -(_sociès_), or _zombis_. Especially zombis. Cyrillia's belief in zombis -has a solidity that renders argument out of the question. This belief -is part of her inner nature,--something hereditary, racial, ancient -as Africa, as characteristic of her people as the love of rhythms -and melodies totally different from our own musical conceptions, but -possessing, even for the civilized, an inexplicable emotional charm. - -_Zombi!_--the word is perhaps full of mystery even for those who made -it. The explanations of those who utter it most often are never quite -lucid: it seems to convey ideas darkly impossible to define,--fancies -belonging to the mind of another race and another era,--unspeakably old. -Perhaps the word in our own language which offers the best analogy is -"goblin": yet the one is not fully translated by the other. Both have, -however, one common ground on which they become indistinguishable,--that -region of the supernatural which is most primitive and most vague; and -the closest relation between the savage and the civilized fancy may be -found in the fears which we call childish,--of darkness, shadows, and -things dreamed. One form of the _zombi_-belief--akin to certain ghostly -superstitions held by various primitive races--would seem to have -been suggested by nightmare,--that form of nightmare in which familiar -persons become slowly and hideously transformed into malevolent beings. -The _zombi_ deludes under the appearance of a travelling companion, an -old comrade--like the desert spirits of the Arabs--or even under the -form of an animal. Consequently the creole negro fears everything living -which he meets after dark upon a lonely road,--a stray horse, a cow, -even a dog; and mothers quell the naughtiness of their children by -the threat of summoning a zombi-cat or a zombi-creature of some kind. -"_Zombi ké nana ou_" (the zombi will gobble thee up) is generally an -effectual menace in the country parts, where it is believed zombis may -be met with any time after sunset. In the city it is thought that their -regular hours are between two and four o'clock in the morning. At least -so Cyrillia says:-- - ---"Dèezhè, toua-zhè-matin: c'est lhè zombi. Yo ka sòti dèzhè, toua zhè: -c'est lhè yo. A quattrhè yo ka rentré;--angelus ka sonné." (At four -o'clock they go back where they came from, before the _Angelus_ rings.) -Why? - ---"_C'est pou moune pas joinne yo dans larue_." (So that people may not -meet with them in the street), Cyrillia answers. - ---"Are they afraid of the people, Cyrillia?" I asked. - ---"No, they are not afraid; but they do not want people to know their -business" (_pa lè moune ouè zaffai yo_). - -Cyrillia also says one must not look out of the window when a dog howls -at night. Such a dog may be a _mauvais vivant_ (evil being): "If he sees -me looking at him he will say, '_Ou tropp quirièse quittée cabane ou pou -gàdé zaffai lezautt_.'" (You are too curious to leave your bed like that -to look at other folks' business.) - ---"And what then, Cyrillia?" - ---"Then he will put out your eyes,--_y ké coqui zié ou_,--make you -blind." - ---"But, Cyrillia," I asked one day, "did you ever see any zombis?" - ---"How? I often see them!... They walk about the room at night;--they -walk like people. They sit in the rocking-chairs and rock themselves -very softly, and look at me. I say to them:--'What do you want here?--I -never did any harm to anybody. Go away!' Then they go away." - ---"What do they look like?" - ---"Like people,--sometimes like beautiful people (_bel moune_). I am -afraid of them. I only see them when there is no light burning. While -the lamp bums before the Virgin they do not come. But sometimes the oil -fails, and the light dies." - -In my own room there are dried palm leaves and some withered flowers -fastened to the wall. Cyrillia put them there. They were taken from -the _reposoirs_ (temporary altars) erected for the last Corpus Christi -procession: consequently they are blessed, and ought to keep the zombis -away. That is why they are fastened to the wall, over my bed. - -Nobody could be kinder to animals than Cyrillia usually shows herself -to be: all the domestic animals in the neighborhood impose upon -her;--various dogs and cats steal from her impudently, without the least -fear of being beaten. I was therefore very much surprised to see her -one evening catch a flying beetle that approached the light, and -deliberately put its head in the candle-flame. When I asked her how she -could be so cruel, she replied:-- - ---"_Ah ou pa connaitt choïe pays-ci_." (You do not know Things in this -country.) - -The Things thus referred to I found to be supernatural Things. It is -popularly believed that certain winged creatures which circle about -candles at night may be _engagés_ or _envoyés_--wicked people having the -power of transformation, or even zombis "sent" by witches or wizards to -do harm. "There was a woman at Tricolore," Cyrillia says, "who used to -sew a great deal at night; and a big beetle used to come into her room -and fly about the candle, and and bother her very much. One night she -managed to get hold of it, and she singed its head in the candle. Next -day, a woman who was her neighbor came to the house with her head -all tied up. '_Ah! macoumè_,' asked the sewing-woman, '_ça ou ni dans -guiôle-ou?_' And the other answered, very angrily, '_Ou ni toupet mandé -moin ça moin ni dans guiôle moin!--et cété ou qui té brilé guiôle moin -nans chandelle-ou hiè-souè_.'" (You have the impudence to ask what -is the matter with my mouth! and you yourself burned my mouth in your -candle last night.) - -Early one morning, about five o'clock, Cyrillia, opening the front door, -saw a huge crab walking down the street. Probably it had escaped from -some barrel; for it is customary here to keep live crabs in barrels and -fatten them,--feeding them with maize, mangoes, and, above all, green -peppers: nobody likes to cook crabs as soon as caught; for they may have -been eating manchineel apples at the river-mouths. Cyrillia uttered -a cry of dismay on seeing that crab; then I heard her talking to -herself:--"_I_ touch it?--never! it can go about its business. How do -I know it is not _an arranged crab_ (_yon crabe rangé_), or an -_envoyé_?--since everybody knows I like crabs. For two sous I can buy -a fine crab and know where it comes from." The crab went on down the -street: everywhere the sight of it created consternation; nobody dared -to touch it; women cried out at it, "_Miserabe!--envoyé Satan!--allez, -maudi!_"--some threw holy water on the crab. Doubtless it reached the -sea in safety. In the evening Cyrillia said: "I think that crab was -a little zombi;--I am going to burn a light all night to keep it from -coming back." - -Another day, while I was out, a negro to whom I had lent two francs came -to the house, and paid his debt Cyrillia told me when I came back, and -showed me the money carefully enveloped in a piece of brown paper; but -said I must not touch it,--she would get rid of it for me at the market. -I laughed at her fears; and she observed: "You do not know negroes, -Missié!--negroes are wicked, negroes are jealous! I do not want you to -touch that money, because I have not a good opinion about this affair." - -After I began to learn more of the underside of Martinique life, I could -understand the source and justification of many similar superstitions -in simple and uneducated minds. The negro sorcerer is, at worst, only a -poisoner; but he possesses a very curious art which long defied serious -investigation, and in the beginning of the last century was attributed, -even by whites, to diabolical influence. In 1721, 1723, and 1725, -several negroes were burned alive at the stake as wizards in league with -the devil. It was an era of comparative ignorance; but even now -things are done which would astonish the most sceptical and practical -physician. For example, a laborer discharged from a plantation vows -vengeance; and the next morning the whole force of hands--the entire -atelier--are totally disabled from work. Every man and woman on the -place is unable to walk; everybody has one or both legs frightfully -swollen. _Yo te ka pilé malifice_: they have trodden on a "malifice." -What is the "malifice"? All that can be ascertained is that certain -little prickly seeds have been scattered all over the ground, where the -barefooted workers are in the habit of passing. Ordinarily, treading on -these seeds is of no consequence; but it is evident in such a case that -they must have been prepared in a special way,--soaked in some poison, -perhaps snake-venom. At all events, the physician deems it safest to -treat the inflammations after the manner of snake wounds; and after many -days the hands are perhaps able to resume duty. - - - - -XI - - -While Cyrillia is busy with her _canari_, she talks to herself or sings. -She has a low rich voice,--sings strange things, things that have been -forgotten by this generation,--creole songs of the old days, having a -weird rhythm and fractions of tones that are surely African. But more -generally she talks to herself, as all the Martiniquaises do: it is -a continual murmur as of a stream. At first I used to think she was -talking to somebody else, and would call out:-- - ---"_Épi quiless moune ça ou ka pàlé-à?_" - -But she would always answer:--"_Moin ka pàlé anni cò moin_" (I am only -talking to my own body), which is the creole expression for talking to -oneself. - ---"And what are you talking so much to your own body about, Cyrillia?" - ---"I am talking about my own little affairs" (_ti zaffai-moin_).... That -is all that I could ever draw from her. - -But when not working, she will sit for hours looking out of the window. -In this she resembles the kitten: both seem to find the same silent -pleasure in watching the street, or the green heights that rise above -its roofs,--the Morne d'Orange. Occasionally at such times she will -break the silence in the strangest way, if she thinks I am not too busy -with my papers to answer a question:-- - ---"_Missié?_"--timidly. - ---"Eh?" - ---"_Di moin, chè, ti manmaille dans pays ou, toutt piti, piti,--ess ça -pàlé Anglais?_" (Do the little children in my country--the very, very -little children--talk English?) - ---"Why, certainly, Cyrillia." - ---"_Toutt piti, piti?_"--with growing surprise. - ---"Why, of course!" - ---"_C'est drôle, ça_" (It is queer, that!) She cannot understand it. - ---"And the little _manmaille_ in Martinique, Cyrillia--_toutt -piti, piti_,--don't they talk creole?" - ---"'_Oui; mais toutt moune ka pâlé nègue: ça facile_." (Yes; but anybody -can talk negro--that is easy to learn.) - - - - -XII - - -Cyrillia's room has no furniture in it: the Martinique bonne lives as -simply and as rudely as a domestic animal. One thin mattress covered -with a sheet, and elevated from the floor only by a léfant, forms her -bed. The _léfant_, or "elephant," is composed of two thick square pieces -of coarse hard mattress stuffed with shavings, and placed -end to end. Cyrillia has a good pillow, however,--_bourré épi -flêches-canne_,--filled with the plumes of the sugar-cane. A cheap -trunk with broken hinges contains her modest little wardrobe: a few -_mouchoirs_, or kerchiefs, used for head-dresses, a spare _douillette_, -or long robe, and some tattered linen. Still she is always clean, neat, -fresh-looking. I see a pair of sandals in the corner,--such as the women -of the country sometimes wear--wooden soles with a leather band for the -instep, and two little straps; but she never puts them on. Fastened to -the wall are two French prints--lithographs: one representing Victor -Hugo's _Esmeralda_ in prison with her pet goat; the other, Lamartine's -_Laurence_ with her fawn. Both are very old and stained and bitten by -the _bête-à-ciseau_, a species of _lepisma_, which destroys books -and papers, and everything it can find exposed. On a shelf are two -bottles,--one filled with holy water; another with _tafia camphrée_ -(camphor dissolved in tafia), which is Cyrillia's sole remedy for colds, -fevers, headaches--all maladies not of a very fatal description. There -are also a little woollen monkey, about three inches high--the -dusty plaything of a long-dead child;--an image of the Virgin, even -smaller;--and a broken cup with fresh bright blossoms in it, the -Virgin's flower-offering;--and the Virgin's invariable lamp--a -night-light, a little wick floating on olive-oil in a tiny glass. - -I know that Cyrillia must have bought these flowers--they are garden -flowers--at the Marchè du Fort. There are always old women sitting there -who sell nothing else but bouquets for the Virgin,--and who cry out to -passers-by:--"_Gagné ti bouquet pou Viège-ou, chè!_... Buy a nosegay, -dear, for your Virgin;--she is asking you for one;--give her a little -one, _chè cocott_."... Cyrillia says you must not smell the flowers you -give the Virgin: it would be stealing from her.... The little lamp is -always lighted at six o'clock. At six o'clock the Virgin is supposed to -pass through all the streets of St. Pierre, and wherever a lamp burns -before her image, she enters there and blesses that house. "_Faut limé -lampe ou pou fai la-Viège passé dans caïe-ou_," says Cyrillia. (You must -light the lamp to make the Virgin come into your house.)... Cyrillia -often talks to her little image, exactly as if it were a baby,--calls it -pet names,--asks if it is content with the flowers. - -This image of the Virgin is broken: it is only half a Virgin,--the upper -half. Cyrillia has arranged it so, nevertheless, that had I not been -very inquisitive I should never have divined its mishap. She found a -small broken powder-box without a lid,--probably thrown negligently out -of a boudoir window by some wealthy beauty: she filled this little box -with straw, and fixed the mutilated image upright within it, so that you -could never suspect the loss of its feet. The Virgin looks very funny, -thus peeping over the edge of her little box,--looks like a broken toy, -which a child has been trying to mend. But this Virgin has offerings -too: Cyrillia buys flowers for her, and sticks them all round her, -between the edge of the powder-box and the straw. After all, Cyrillia's -Virgin is quite as serious a fact as any image of silver or of ivory in -the homes of the rich: probably the prayers said to her are more simply -beautiful, and more direct from the heart, than many daily murmured -before the _chapelles_ of luxurious homes. And the more one looks at it, -the more one feels that it were almost wicked to smile at this little -broken toy of faith. - ---"Cyrillia, _mafi_," I asked her one day, after my discovery of the -little Virgin,--"would you not like me to buy a _chapelle_ for you?" -The _chapelle_ is the little bracket-altar, together with images and -ornaments, to be found in every creole bedroom. - ---"_Mais non, Missié_," she answered, smiling, "_moin aimein ti Viège -moin, pa lè gagnin dautt_. I love my little Virgin: do not want any -other. I have seen much trouble: she was with me in my trouble;--she -heard my prayers. It would be wicked for me to throw her away. When I -have a sou to spare, I buy flowers for her;--when I have no money, I -climb the mornes, and pick pretty buds for her.... But why should Missié -want to buy me a _chapelle?_--Missié is a Protestant?" - ---"I thought it might give you pleasure, Cyrillia." - ---"No, Missié, I thank you; it would not give me pleasure. But Missié -could give me something else which would make me very happy--I often -thought of asking Missié...but--" - - -[Illustration: CREOLE WOMEN -_In their gay dresses with their brilliant "maárases" -and "foulards they seem always in gala array._] - - ---"Tell me what it is, Cyrillia." - -She remained silent a moment, then said:-- - ---"Missié makes photographs...." - ---"You want a photograph of yourself, Cyrillia?" - ---"Oh! no, Missié, I am too ugly and too old. But I have a daughter. She -is beautiful--_yon bel bois_,--like a beautiful tree, as we say here. I -would like so much to have her picture taken." - -A photographic instrument belonging to a clumsy amateur suggested this -request to Cyrillia. I could not attempt such work successfully; but I -gave her a note to a photographer of much skill; and a few days later -the portrait was sent to the house. Cyrillia's daughter was certainly a -comely girl,--tall and almost gold-colored, with pleasing features; and -the photograph looked very nice, though less nice than the original. -Half the beauty of these people is a beauty of tint,--a tint so -exquisite sometimes that I have even heard white creoles declare -no white complexion compares with it: the greater part of the charm -remaining is grace,--the grace of movement; and neither of these can be -rendered by photography. I had the portrait framed for Cyrillia, to hang -up beside her little pictures. - -When it came, she was not in; I put it in her room, and waited to see -the effect. On returning, she entered there; and I did not see her for -so long a time that I stole to the door of the chamber to observe her. -She was standing before the portrait,--looking at it, talking to it as -if it were alive. "_Yche moin, yche moin!... Oui! ou toutt bel!--yche -moin bel_." (My child, my child!... Yes, thou art all beautiful: my -child is beautiful.) All at once she turned--perhaps she noticed -my shadow, or felt my presence in some way: her eyes were wet;--she -started, flushed, then laughed. - ---"Ah! Missié, you watch me;--_ou guette moin_.... But she is my child. -Why should I not love her?... She looks so beautiful there." - ---"She is beautiful, Cyrillia;--I love to see you love her." - -She gazed at the picture a little longer in silence;--then turned to me -again, and asked earnestly:-- - ---"_Pouki yo ja ka fai pòtrai palé--anh?... pisse yo ka tiré y toutt -samm ou: c'est ou-menm!... Yo douè fai y palé 'tou_." - -(Why do they not make a portrait talk,--tell me? For they draw it just -all like you!--it is yourself: they ought to make it talk.) - ---"Perhaps they will be able to do something like that one of these -days, Cyrillia." - ---"Ah! that would be so nice. Then I could talk to her. _C'est yon bel -moune moin fai--y bel, joli moune!... Moin sé causé épi y_."... - - -... And I, watching her beautiful childish emotion, thought:--Cursed -be the cruelty that would persuade itself that one soul may be -like another,--that one affection may be replaced by another,--that -individual goodness is not a thing apart, original, untwinned on earth, -but only the general characteristic of a class or type, to be sought and -found and utilized at will!... -Self-curséd he who denies the divinity of love! Each heart, each brain -in the billions of humanity,--even so surely as sorrow lives,--feels and -thinks in some special way unlike any other; and goodness in each -has its unlikeness to all other goodness,--and thus its own infinite -preciousness; for however humble, however small, it is something all -alone, and God never repeats his work. No heart-beat is cheap, no -gentleness is despicable, no kindness is common; and Death, in removing -a life--the simplest life ignored,--removes what never will reappear -through the eternity of eternities,--since every being is the sum of -a chain of experiences infinitely varied from all others.... To some -Cyrillia's happy tears might bring a smile: to me that smile would seem -the unforgivable sin against the Giver of Life!... - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -"PA COMBINÉ, CHÈ!" - - -I - - -More finely than any term in our tongue does the French word -_frisson_ express that faint shiver--as of a ghostly touch thrilling -from hair to feet--which intense pleasure sometimes gives, and which is -felt most often and most strongly in childhood, when the imagination is -still so sensitive and so powerful that one's whole being trembles -to the vibration of a fancy. And this electric word best expresses, -I think, that long thrill of amazed delight inspired by the first -knowledge of the tropic world,--a sensation of weirdness in beauty, like -the effect, in child-days, of fairy tales and stories of phantom isles. - -For all unreal seems the vision of it. The transfiguration of all -things by the stupendous light and the strange vapors of the West Indian -sea,--the interorbing of flood and sky in blinding azure,--the sudden -spirings of gem-tinted coast from the ocean,--the iris-colors and -astounding shapes of the hills,--the unimaginable magnificence of -palms,--the high woods veiled and swathed in vines that blaze like -emerald: all remind you in some queer way of things half forgotten,--the -fables of enchantment. Enchantment it is indeed--but only the -enchantment of that Great Wizard, the Sun, whose power you are scarcely -beginning to know. - -And into the life of the tropical city you enter as in dreams one enters -into the life of a dead century. In all the quaint streets--over whose -luminous yellow façades the beautiful burning violet of the sky appears -as if but a few feet away--you see youth good to look upon as ripe -fruit; and the speech of the people is soft as a coo; and eyes of brown -girls caress you with a passing look.... Love's world, you may have -heard, has few restraints here, where Nature ever seems to cry out, like -the swart seller of corossoles:--"_ça qui le doudoux?_"... - -How often in some passing figure does one discern an ideal almost -realized, and forbear to follow it with untired gaze only when another, -another, and yet another, come to provoke the same aesthetic fancy,--to -win the same unspoken praise! How often does one long for artist's power -to fix the fleeting lines, to catch the color, to seize the whole exotic -charm of some special type!... One finds a strange charm even in the -timbre of these voices,--these half-breed voices, always with a tendency -to contralto, and vibrant as ringing silver. What is that mysterious -quality in a voice which has power to make the pulse beat faster, even -when the singer is unseen?... do only the birds know? - -... It seems to you that you could never weary of watching this -picturesque life,--of studying the costumes, brilliant with butterfly -colors,--and the statuesque semi-nudity of laboring hundreds,--and the -untaught grace of attitudes,--and the simplicity of manners. Each day -brings some new pleasure of surprise;--even from the window of your -lodging you are ever noting something novel, something to delight the -sense of oddity or beauty.... Even in your room everything interests -you, because of its queerness or quaintness: you become fond of the -objects about you,--the great noiseless rocking-chairs that lull to -sleep;--the immense bed (_lit-à-bateau_) of heavy polished wood, with -its richly carven sides reaching down to the very floor;--and its -invariable companion, the little couch or _sopha_, similarly shaped -but much narrower, used only for the siesta;--and the thick red earthen -vessels (_dobannes_) which keep your drinking-water cool on the hottest -days, but which are always filled thrice between sunrise and sunset with -clear water from the mountain,--_dleau toutt vivant_, "all alive";--and -the _verrines_, tall glass vases with stems of bronze in which your -candle will burn steadily despite a draught;--and even those funny -little angels and Virgins which look at you from their bracket in the -corner, over the oil lamp you are presumed to kindle nightly in their -honor, however great a heretic you may be.... You adopt at once, and -without reservation, those creole home habits which are the result of -centuries of experience with climate,--abstention from solid food before -the middle of the day, repose after the noon meal;--and you find each -repast an experience as curious as it is agreeable. It is not at all -difficult to accustom oneself to green pease stewed with sugar, eggs -mixed with tomatoes, salt fish stewed in milk, palmiste pith made into -salad, grated cocoa formed into rich cakes, and dishes of titiri cooked -in oil,--the minuscule fish, of which a thousand will scarcely fill -a saucer. Above all, you are astonished by the endless variety of -vegetables and fruits, of all conceivable shapes and inconceivable -flavors. - -And it does not seem possible that even the simplest little recurrences -of this antiquated, gentle home-life could ever prove wearisome by daily -repetition through the months and years. The musical greeting of -the colored child, tapping at your door before sunrise,--"_Bonjou', -Missié_,"--as she brings your cup of black hot coffee and slice of -corossole;--the smile of the silent brown girl who carries your meals -up-stairs in a tray poised upon her brightly coiffed head, and who -stands by while you dine, watching every chance to serve, treading -quite silently with her pretty bare feet;--the pleasant manners of -the _màchanne_ who brings your fruit, the _porteuse_ who delivers your -bread, the _blanchisseuse_ who washes your linen at the river,--and all -the kindly folk who circle about your existence, with their trays and -turbans, their _foulards_ and _douillettes_, their primitive grace -and creole chatter: these can never cease to have a charm for you. You -cannot fail to be touched also by the amusing solicitude of these good -people for your health, because you are a stranger: their advice about -hours to go out and hours to stay at home,--about roads to follow and -paths to avoid on account of snakes,--about removing your hat and -coat, or drinking while warm.... Should you fall ill, this solicitude -intensifies to devotion; you are tirelessly tended;--the good people -will exhaust their wonderful knowledge of herbs to get you well,--will -climb the mornes even at midnight, in spite of the risk of snakes and -fear of zombis, to gather strange plants by the light of a lantern. -Natural joyousness, natural kindliness, heart-felt desire to please, -childish capacity of being delighted with trifles,--seem characteristic -of all this colored population. It is turning its best side towards you, -no doubt; but the side of the nature made visible appears none the less -agreeable because you suspect there is another which you have not seen. -What kindly inventiveness is displayed in contriving surprises for you, -or in finding some queer thing to show you,--some fantastic plant, -or grotesque fish, or singular bird! What apparent pleasure in taking -trouble to gratify,--what innocent frankness of sympathy!... Childishly -beautiful seems the readiness of this tinted race to compassionate: you -do not reflect that it is also a savage trait, while the charm of its -novelty is yet upon you. No one is ashamed to shed tears for the death -of a pet animal; any mishap to a child creates excitement, and evokes an -immediate volunteering of services. And this compassionate sentiment is -often extended, in a semi-poetical way, even to inanimate objects. One -June morning, I remember, a three-masted schooner lying in the bay -took fire, and had to be set adrift. An immense crowd gathered on the -wharves; and I saw many curious manifestations of grief,--such grief, -perhaps, as an infant feels for the misfortune of a toy it imagines to -possess feeling, but not the less sincere because unreasoning. As the -flames climbed the rigging, and the masts fell, the crowd moaned as -though looking upon some human tragedy; and everywhere one could hear -such strange cries of pity as, "_Pauv' malhérè!_" (poor unfortunate), -"_pauv' diabe!_"... "_Toutt baggaïe-y pou allé, casse!_" (All its -things-to-go-with are broken!) sobbed a girl, with tears streaming down -her cheeks.... She seemed to believe it was alive.... - -... And day by day the artlessness of this exotic humanity touches you -more;--day by day this savage, somnolent, splendid Nature--delighting in -furious color--bewitches you more. Already the anticipated necessity -of having to leave it all some day--the far-seen pain of bidding it -farewell--weighs upon you, even in dreams. - - - -II - - -Reader, if you be of those who have longed in vain for a glimpse of that -tropic world,--tales of whose beauty charmed your childhood, and made -stronger upon you that weird mesmerism of the sea which pulls at the -heart of a boy,--one who had longed like you, and who, chance-led, -beheld at last the fulfilment of the wish, can swear to you that the -magnificence of the reality far excels the imagining. Those who know -only the lands in which all processes for the satisfaction of human -wants have been perfected under the terrible stimulus of necessity, can -little guess the witchery of that Nature ruling the zones of color and -of light. Within their primeval circles, the earth remains radiant and -young as in that preglacial time whereof some transmitted memory -may have created the hundred traditions of an Age of Gold. And the -prediction of a paradise to come,--a phantom realm of rest and perpetual -light: may this not have been but a sum of the remembrances and the -yearnings of man first exiled from his heritage,--a dream born of the -great nostalgia of races migrating to people the pallid North?... - - -... But with the realization of the hope to know this magical Nature you -learn that the actuality varies from the preconceived ideal otherwise -than in surpassing it. Unless you enter the torrid world equipped with -scientific knowledge extraordinary, your anticipations are likely to be -at fault. Perhaps you had pictured to yourself the effect of perpetual -summer as a physical delight,--something like an indefinite prolongation -of the fairest summer weather ever enjoyed at home. Probably you had -heard of fevers, risks of acclimatization, intense heat, and a swarming -of venomous creatures; but you may nevertheless believe you know what -precautions to take; and published statistics of climatic temperature -may have persuaded you that the heat is not difficult to bear. By that -enervation to which all white dwellers in the tropics are subject you -may have understood a pleasant languor,--a painless disinclination -to effort in a country where physical effort is less needed than -elsewhere,--a soft temptation to idle away the hours in a hammock, under -the shade of giant trees. Perhaps you have read, with eyes of faith, -that torpor of the body is favorable to activity of the mind, and -therefore believe that the intellectual powers can be stimulated and -strengthened by tropical influences:--you suppose that enervation will -reveal itself only as a beatific indolence which will leave the brain -free to think with lucidity, or to revel in romantic dreams. - - - - -III - - -You are not at first undeceived;--the disillusion is long delayed. -Doubtless you have read the delicious idyl of Bernardin de Saint-Pierre -(this is not Mauritius, but the old life of Mauritius was wellnigh the -same); and you look for idyllic personages among the beautiful humanity -about you,--for idyllic scenes among the mornes shadowed by primeval -forest, and the valleys threaded by a hundred brooks. I know not whether -the faces and forms that you seek will be revealed to you;--but you -will not be able to complain for the lack of idyllic loveliness in the -commonest landscape. Whatever artistic knowledge you possess will merely -teach you the more to wonder at the luxuriant purple of the sea, the -violet opulence of the sky, the violent beauty of foliage greens, the -lilac tints of evening, and the color-enchantments distance gives in -an atmosphere full of iridescent power,--the amethysts and agates, the -pearls and ghostly golds, of far mountainings. Never, you imagine, -never could one tire of wandering through those marvellous valleys,--of -climbing the silent roads under emeraldine shadow to heights from which -the city seems but a few inches long, and the moored ships tinier than -gnats that cling to a mirror,--or of swimming in that blue bay whose -clear flood stays warm through all the year.[53] Or, standing alone, -in some aisle of colossal palms, where humming-birds are flashing and -shooting like a showering of jewel-fires, you feel how weak the skill -of poet or painter to fix the sensation of that white-pillared imperial -splendor;--and you think you know why creoles exiled by necessity to -colder lands may sicken for love of their own,--die of home-yearning, as -did many a one in far Louisiana, after the political tragedies of 1848.... - - -[Illustration: DIDIER SPRINGS -_At the end of a gorgeous ride, in a deep ravine we -found the spring--warm, effervescent water gushing -from the depths of the earth._] - - -... But you are not a creole, and must pay tribute of suffering to the -climate of the tropics. You will have to learn that a temperature of -90° Fahr. in the tropics is by no means the same thing as 90° Fahr. in -Europe or the United States;--that the mornes cannot be climbed with -safety during the hotter hours of the afternoon;--that by taking a long -walk you incur serious danger of catching a fever;--that to enter the -high woods, a path must be hewn with the cutlass through the creepers -and vines and undergrowth,--among snakes, venomous insects, venomous -plants, and malarial exhalations;--that the finest blown dust is full -of irritant and invisible enemies;--that it is folly to seek repose on -a sward, or in the shade of trees,--particularly under tamarinds. Only -after you have by experience become well convinced of these facts can -you begin to comprehend something general in regard to West Indian -conditions of life. - - -[Footnote 53: Rufz remarks that the first effect of this climate of the -Antilles is a sort of general physical excitement, an exaltation, a -sense of unaccustomed strength,--which begets the desire of immediate -action to discharge the surplus of nervous force. "Then all -distances seem brief;--the greatest fatigues are braved without -hesitation."--_Études._] - - - - -IV - - -... Slowly the knowledge comes.... For months the vitality of a strong -European (the American constitution bears the test even better) may -resist the debilitating climate: perhaps the stranger will flatter -himself that, like men habituated to heavy labor in stifling -warmth,--those toiling in mines, in founderies in engine-rooms of ships, -at iron-furnaces,--so he too may become accustomed, without losing his -strength to the continuous draining of the pores, to the exhausting -force of this strange motionless heat which compels change of clothing -many times a day. But gradually he finds that it is not heat alone which -is debilitating him, but the weight and septic nature of an atmosphere -charged with vapor, with electricity, with unknown agents not less -inimical to human existence than propitious to vegetal luxuriance. If -he has learned those rules of careful living which served him well in a -temperate climate, he will not be likely to abandon them among his new -surroundings; and they will help him; no doubt,--particularly if he be -prudent enough to avoid the sea-coast at night, and all exposure to dews -or early morning mists, and all severe physical strain. Nevertheless, -he becomes slowly conscious of changes extraordinary going on within -him,--in especial, a continual sensation of weight in the brain, daily -growing, and compelling frequent repose;--also a curious heightening -of nervous sensibility to atmospheric changes, to tastes and odors, to -pleasure and pain. Total loss of appetite soon teaches him to follow the -local custom of eating nothing solid before mid-day, and enables him -to divine how largely the necessity for caloric enters into the -food-consumption of northern races. He becomes abstemious, eats -sparingly, and discovers his palate to have become oddly exacting--finds -that certain fruits and drinks are indeed, as the creoles assert, -appropriate only to particular physical conditions corresponding with -particular hours of the day. Corossole is only to be eaten in the -morning, after black coffee;--vermouth is good to drink only between the -hours of nine and half-past ten;--rum or other strong liquor only before -meals or after fatigue;--claret or wine only during a repast, and then -very sparingly,--for, strangely enough, wine is found to be injurious -in a country where stronger liquors are considered among the prime -necessaries of existence. - -And he expected, at the worst, to feel lazy, to lose some physical -energy! But this is no mere languor which now begins to oppress him;--it -is a sense of vital exhaustion painful as the misery of convalescence: -the least effort provokes a perspiration profuse enough to saturate -clothing, and the limbs ache as from muscular overstrain;--the lightest -attire feels almost insupportable;--the idea of sleeping even under a -sheet is torture, for the weight of a silken handkerchief is discomfort. -One wishes one could live as a savage,--naked in the heat. One burns -with a thirst impossible to assuage--feels a desire for stimulants, a -sense of difficulty in breathing, occasional quickenings of the heart's -action so violent as to alarm. Then comes at last the absolute dread of -physical exertion. Some slight relief might be obtained, no doubt, by -resigning oneself forthwith to adopt the gentle indolent manners of the -white creoles, who do not walk when it is possible to ride, and never -ride if it is equally convenient to drive;--but the northern nature -generally refuses to accept this ultimate necessity without a protracted -and painful struggle. - -... Not even then has the stranger fully divined the evil power of this -tropical climate, which remodels the characters of races within a couple -of generations,--changing the shape of the skeleton,--deepening -the cavities of the orbits to protect the eye from the flood of -light,--transforming the blood,--darkening the skin. Following upon the -nervous modifications of the first few months come modifications and -changes of a yet graver kind;--with the loss of bodily energy ensues a -more than corresponding loss of mental activity and strength. The whole -range of thought diminishes, contracts,--shrinks to that narrowest of -circles which surrounds the physical sell, the inner ring of merely -material sensation: the memory weakens appallingly;--the mind operates -faintly, slowly, incoherently,--almost as in dreams. Serious reading, -vigorous thinking, become impossible. You doze over the most important -project;--you fall fast asleep over the most fascinating of books. - -Then comes the vain revolt, the fruitless desperate striving with this -occult power which numbs the memory and enchants the will. Against -the set resolve to think, to act, to study, there is a hostile rush of -unfamiliar pain to the temples, to the eyes, to the nerve centres of -the brain; and a great weight is somewhere in the head, always growing -heavier: then comes a drowsiness that overpowers and stupefies, like the -effect of a narcotic. And this obligation to sleep, to sink into coma, -will impose itself just so surely as you venture to attempt any mental -work in leisure hours, after the noon repast, or during the heat of the -afternoon. Yet at night you can scarcely sleep. Repose is made feverish -by a still heat that keeps the skin drenched with thick sweat, or by -a perpetual, unaccountable, tingling and prickling of the whole -body-surface. With the approach of morning the air grows cooler, and -slumber comes,--a slumber of exhaustion, dreamless and sickly; and -perhaps when you would rise with the sun you feel such a dizziness, such -a numbness, such a torpor, that only by the most intense effort can you -keep your feet for the first five minutes. You experience a sensation -that recalls the poet's fancy of death-in-life, or old stories of sudden -rising from the grave: it is as though all the electricity of will -had ebbed away,--all the vital force evaporated, in the heat of the -night.... - - - - -V - - -It might be stated, I think, with safety, that for a certain class of -invalids the effect of the climate is like a powerful stimulant,--a -tonic medicine which may produce astonishing results within a fixed -time,--but which if taken beyond that time will prove dangerous. After -a certain number of months, your first enthusiasm with your new -surroundings dies out;--even Nature ceases to affect the senses in the -same way: the _frisson_ ceases to come to you. Meanwhile you may have -striven to become as much as possible a part of the exotic life into -which you have entered,--may have adopted its customs, learned its -language. But you cannot mix with it mentally;--You circulate only as an -oil-drop in its current. You still feel yourself alone. - -The very longest West Indian day is but twelve hours fifty-six -minutes;--perhaps your first dissatisfaction was evoked by the brevity -of the days. There is no twilight whatever; and all activity ceases with -sundown: there is no going outside of the city after dark, because of -snakes;--club life here ends at the hour it only begins abroad;--there -is no visiting of evenings; after the seven o'clock dinner, everyone -prepares to retire. And the foreigner, accustomed to make evening a time -for social intercourse, finds no small difficulty in resigning himself -to this habit of early retiring. The natural activity of a European -or American mind requires some intellectual exercise,--at least some -interchange of ideas with sympathetic natures; the hours during the -suspension of business after noon, or those following the closing of -offices at sunset, are the only ones in which busy men may find time -for such relaxation; and these very hours have been always devoted to -restorative sleep by the native population ever since the colony began. -Naturally, therefore, the stranger dreads the coming of the darkness, -the inevitable isolation of long sleepless hours. And if he seek those -solaces for loneliness which he was wont to seek at home,--reading, -study,--he is made to comprehend, as never before, what the absence of -all libraries, lack of books, inaccessibility of all reading-matter, -means for the man of the nineteenth century. One must send abroad to -obtain even a review, and wait months for its coming. And this -mental starvation gnaws at the brain more and more as one feels less -inclination and less capacity for effort, and as that single enjoyment, -which at first rendered a man indifferent to other pleasures,--the -delight of being alone with tropical Nature,--becomes more difficult to -indulge. When lethargy has totally mastered habit and purpose, and you -must at last confess yourself resigned to view Nature from your chamber, -or at best from a carriage window,--then, indeed, the want of all -literature proves a positive torture. It is not a consolation to -discover that you are an almost solitary sufferer,--from climate as -well as from mental hunger. With amazement and envy you see young girls -passing to walk right across the island and back before sunset, under -burdens difficult for a strong man to lift to his shoulder;--the same -journey on horseback would now weary you for days. You wonder of what -flesh and blood can these people be made,--what wonderful vitality -lies in those slender woman-bodies, which, under the terrible sun, and -despite their astounding expenditure of force, remain cool to the sight -and touch as bodies of lizards and serpents! And contrasting this savage -strength with your own weakness, you begin to understand better how -mighty the working of those powers which temper races and shape race -habits in accordance with environment. - -... Ultimately, if destined for acclimatation, you will cease to suffer -from these special conditions; but ere this can be, a long period of -nervous irritability must be endured; and fevers must thin the blood, -soften the muscles, transform the Northern tint of health to a dead -brown. You will have to learn that intellectual pursuits can be -persisted in only at risk of life;--that in this part of the world -there is nothing to do but to plant cane and cocoa, and make rum, -and cultivate tobacco,--or open a magazine for the sale of Madras -handkerchiefs and _foulards_,--and eat, drink, sleep, perspire. You -will understand why the tropics settled by European races produce no -sciences, arts, or literature,--why the habits and the thoughts of -other centuries still prevail where Time itself moves slowly as though -enfeebled by the heat. - -And with the compulsory indolence of your life, the long exacerbation -of the nervous system, will come the first pain of nostalgia,--the first -weariness of the tropics. It is not that Nature can become ever less -lovely to your sight; but that the tantalization of her dangerous -beauty, which you may enjoy only at a safe distance, exasperates at -last. The colors that at first bewitched will vex your eyes by their -violence;--the creole life that appeared so simple, so gentle, will -reveal dulnesses and discomforts undreamed of. You will ask yourself how -much longer can you endure the prodigious light, and the furnace heat -of blinding blue days, and the void misery of sleepless nights, and the -curse of insects, and the sound of the mandibles of enormous roaches -devouring the few books in your possession. You will grow weary of the -grace of the palms, of the gemmy colors of the ever-clouded peaks, of -the sight of the high woods made impenetrable by lianas and vines and -serpents. You will weary even of the tepid sea, because to enjoy it as a -swimmer you must rise and go out at hours while the morning air is -still chill and heavy with miasma;--you will weary, above all, of tropic -fruits, and feel that you would gladly pay a hundred francs for the -momentary pleasure of biting into one rosy juicy Northern apple. - - - - -VI - - ---But if you believe this disillusion perpetual,--if you fancy the old -bewitchment has spent all its force upon you,--you do not know this -Nature. She is not done with you yet: she has only torpefied your -energies a little. Of your willingness to obey her, she takes no -cognizance;--she ignores human purposes, knows only molecules and their -combinations; and the blind blood in your veins,--thick with Northern -heat and habit,--is still in dumb desperate rebellion against her. - -Perhaps she will quell this revolt forever,--thus:-- - -One day, in the second hour of the afternoon, a few moments after -leaving home, there will come to you a sensation such as you have never -known before: a sudden weird fear of the light. - -It seems to you that the blue sky-fire is burning down into your -brain,--that the flare of the white pavements and yellow walls is -piercing somehow into your life,--creating an unfamiliar mental -confusion,--blurring out thought.... Is the whole world taking -fire?... The flaming azure of the sea dazzles and pains like a -crucible-glow;--the green of the mornes flickers and blazes in some -amazing way.... Then dizziness inexpressible: you grope with eyes shut -fast--afraid to open them again in that stupefying torrefaction,--moving -automatically,--vaguely knowing you must get out of the flaring and -flashing,--somewhere, anywhere away from the white wrath of the sun, -and the green fire of the hills, and the monstrous color of the -sea.... Then, remembering nothing, you find yourself in bed,--with an -insupportable sense of weight at the back of the head,--a pulse beating -furiously,--and a strange sharp pain at intervals stinging through your -eyes.... And the pain grows, expands,--fills all the skull,--forces you -to cry out, replaces all other sensations except a weak consciousness, -vanishing and recurring, that you are very sick, more sick than ever -before in all your life. - - -... And with the tedious ebbing of the long fierce fever, all the heat -seems to pass from your veins. You can no longer imagine, as before, -that it would be delicious to die of cold;--you shiver even with all the -windows closed;--you feel currents of air,--imperceptible to nerves in -a natural condition,--which shock like a dash of cold water, whenever -doors are opened and closed; the very moisture upon your forehead is -icy. What you now wish for are stimulants and warmth. Your blood has -been changed;--tropic Nature has been good to you: she is preparing you -to dwell with her. - -... Gradually, under the kind nursing of those colored people,--among -whom, as a stranger, your lot will probably be cast,--you recover -strength; and perhaps it will seem to you that the pain of lying a -while in the Shadow of Death is more than compensated by this rare and -touching experience of human goodness. How tirelessly watchful,--how -naïvely sympathetic,--how utterly self-sacrificing these women-natures -are! Patiently, through weeks of stifling days and sleepless -nights,--cruelly unnatural to them, for their life is in the open -air,--they struggle to save without one murmur of fatigue, without -heed of their most ordinary physical wants, without a thought of -recompense;--trusting to their own skill when the physician abandons -hope,--climbing to the woods for herbs when medicines prove, without -avail. The dream of angels holds nothing sweeter than this reality of -woman's tenderness. - -And simultaneously with the return of force, you may wonder whether -this sickness has not sharpened your senses in some extraordinary -way,--especially hearing, sight, and smell. Once well enough to -be removed without danger, you will be taken up into the mountains -somewhere,--for change of air; and there it will seem to you, perhaps, -that never before did you feel so acutely the pleasure of perfumes,--of -color-tones,--of the timbre of voices. You have simply been -acclimated.... And suddenly the old fascination of tropic Nature seizes -you again,--more strongly than in the first days;--the _frisson_ of -delight returns; the joy of it thrills through all your blood,--making a -great fulness at your heart as of unutterable desire to give thanks.... - - - - -VII - - -... My friend Felicien had come to the colony fresh from the region of -the Vosges, with the muscles and energies of a mountaineer, and cheeks -pink as a French country-girl's;--he had never seemed to me physically -adapted for acclimation; and I feared much for him on hearing of his -first serious illness. Then the news of his convalescence came to me as -a grateful surprise. But I did not feel reassured by his appearance the -first evening I called at the little house to which he had been removed, -on the brow of a green height overlooking the town. I found him seated -in a _berceuse_ on the veranda. How wan he was, and how spectral his -smile of welcome,--as he held out to me a hand that seemed all of bone! - -... We chatted there a while. It had been one of those tropic days whose -charm interpenetrates and blends with all the subtler life of sensation, -and becomes a luminous part of it forever,--steeping all after-dreams -of ideal peace in supernal glory of color,--transfiguring all fancies of -the pure joy of being. Azure to the sea-line the sky had remained since -morning; and the trade-wind, warm as a caress, never brought even one -gauzy cloud to veil the naked beauty of the peaks. - -And the sun was yellowing,--as only over the tropics he yellows to -his death. Lilac tones slowly spread through sea and heaven from the -west;--mornes facing the light began to take wondrous glowing color,--a -tone of green so fiery that it looked as though all the rich sap of -their woods were phosphorescing. Shadows blued;--far peaks took -tinting that scarcely seemed of earth,--iridescent violets and -purples interchanging through vapor of gold.... Such the colors of the -_carangue_, when the beautiful tropic fish is turned in the light, and -its gem-greens shift to rich azure and prism-purple. - -Reclining in our chairs, we watched the strange splendor from the -veranda of the little cottage,--saw the peaked land slowly steep itself -in the aureate glow,--the changing color of the verdured mornes, and of -the sweep of circling sea. Tiny birds, bosomed with fire, were shooting -by in long curves, like embers flung by invisible hands. From far below, -the murmur of the city rose to us,--a stormy hum. So motionless we -remained that the green and gray lizards were putting out their heads -from behind the columns of the veranda to stare at us,--as if wondering -whether we were really alive. I turned my head suddenly to look at -two queer butterflies; and all the lizards hid themselves again. -_Papillon-lanmò_,--Death's butterflies,--these were called in the speech -of the people: their broad wings were black like blackest velvet;--as -they fluttered against the yellow light, they looked like silhouettes of -butterflies. Always through my memory of that wondrous evening,--when I -little thought I was seeing my friend's face for the last time,--there -slowly passes the black palpitation of those wings.... - -... I had been chatting with Felicien about various things which I -thought might have a cheerful interest for him; and more than once I -had been happy to see him smile.... But our converse waned. -The ever-magnifying splendor before us had been mesmerizing our -senses,--slowly overpowering our wills with the amazement of its beauty. -Then, as the sun's disk--enormous,--blinding gold--touched the lilac -flood, and the stupendous orange glow flamed up to the very zenith, we -found ourselyes awed at last into silence. - -The orange in the west deepened into vermilion. Softly and very swiftly -night rose like an indigo exhalation from the land,--filling the -valleys, flooding the gorges, blackening the woods, leaving only the -points of the peaks a while to catch the crimson glow. Forests -and fields began to utter a rushing sound as of torrents, always -deepening,--made up of the instrumentation and the voices of numberless -little beings: clangings as of hammered iron, ringings as of dropping -silver upon a stone, the dry bleatings of the _cabritt-bois_, and the -chirruping of tree-frogs, and the _k-i-i-i-i-i-i_ of crickets. Immense -trembling sparks began to rise and fall among the shadows,--twinkling -out and disappearing all mysteriously: these were the fire-flies -awakening. Then about the branches of the _bois-canon_ black shapes -began to hover, which were not birds--shapes flitting processionally -without any noise; each one in turn resting a moment as to nibble -something at the end of a bough;--then yielding place to another, and -circling away, to return again from the other side...the _guimbos_, the -great bats. - -But we were silent, with the emotion of sunset still upon us: that -ghostly emotion which is the transmitted experience of a race,--the sum -of ancestral experiences innumerable,--the mingled joy and pain -of a million years.... Suddenly a sweet voice pierced the -stillness,--pleading:-- - ---"_Pa combiné, chè!--pa combiné conm ça!_" (Do not think, dear!--do not -think like that!) - -... Only less beautiful than the sunset she seemed, this slender -half-breed, who had come all unperceived behind us, treading soundlessly -with her slim bare feet.... "And you, Missié", she said to me, in a tone -of gentle reproach;--"you are his friend! why do you let him think? It -is thinking that will prevent him getting well." - -_Combiné_ in creole signifies to think intently, and therefore to be -unhappy,--because, with this artless race, as with children, to -think intensely about anything is possible only under great stress of -suffering. - ---"_Pa combiné,--non, chè_," she repeated, plaintively, stroking -Felicien's hair. "It is thinking that makes us old.... And it is time to -bid your friend good-night."... - ---"She is so good," said Felicien, smiling to make her pleased;--"I -could never tell you how good. But she does not understand. She believes -I suffer if I am silent. She is contented only when she sees me laugh; -and so she will tell me creole stories by the hour to keep me amused, as -if I were a child."... - -As he spoke she slipped an arm about his neck. - ---"_Doudoux_," she persisted;--and her voice was a dove's coo,--"_Si ou -ainmein moin, pa combiné-non!_" - - -And in her strange exotic beauty, her savage grace, her supple caress, -the velvet witchery of her eyes,--it seemed to me that I beheld a -something imaged, not of herself, nor of the moment only,--a something -weirdly sensuous: the Spirit of tropic Nature made golden flesh, and -murmuring to each lured wanderer:--"_If thou wouldst love me, do not -think_"... - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -YÉ - - -I - - -Almost every night, just before bedtime, I hear some group of children -in the street telling stories to each other. Stories, enigmas or -_tim-tim_, and songs, and round games, are the joy of child-life -here,--whether rich or poor. I am particularly fond of listening to the -stories,--which seem to me the oddest stories I ever heard. - -I succeeded in getting several dictated to me, so that I could write -them;--others were written for me by creole friends, with better -success. To obtain them in all their original simplicity and naive humor -of detail, one should be able to write them down in short-hand as fast -as they are related: they lose greatly in the slow process of dictation. -The simple mind of the native story-teller, child or adult, is seriously -tried by the inevitable interruptions and restraints of the dictation -method;--the reciter loses spirit, becomes soon weary, and purposely -shortens the narrative to finish the task as soon as possible. It seems -painful to such a one to repeat a phrase more than once,--at least -in the same way; while frequent questioning may irritate the most -good-natured in a degree that shows how painful to the untrained brain -may be the exercise of memory and steady control of imagination required -for continuous dictation. By patience, however, I succeeded in obtaining -many curiosities of oral literature,--representing a group of stories -which, whatever their primal origin, have been so changed by local -thought and coloring as to form a distinctively Martinique folk-tale -circle. Among them are several especially popular with the children of -my neighborhood; and I notice that almost every narrator embellishes the -original plot with details of his own, which he varies at pleasure. - -I submit a free rendering of one of these tales,--the history of Yé and -the Devil. The whole story of Yé would form a large book,--so numerous -the list of his adventures; and this adventure seems to me the most -characteristic of all. Yé is the most curious figure in Martinique -folk-lore. Yé is the typical Bitaco,--or mountain negro of the lazy -kind,--the country black whom city blacks love to poke fun at. As for -the Devil of Martinique folk-lore, he resembles the _travailleur_ at a -distance; but when you get dangerously near him, you find that he has -red eyes and red hair, and two little horns under his _chapeau-Bacouè_, -and feet like an ape, and fire in his throat. _Y ka sam yon gouôs, gouôs -macaque_.... - - - - -II - - -Ça qui pa té eonnaitt Yé?... Who is there in all Martinique who never -heard of Yé? Everybody used to know the old rascal. He had every fault -under the sun;--he was the laziest negro in the whole island; he was the -biggest glutton in the whole world. He had an amazing number of -children; and they were most of the time all half dead for hunger. - -_Ça qui pa té connaitt Yé?_... Who is there in all Martinique who never -heard of Yé? Everybody used to know the old rascal. He had every fault -under the sun;--he was the laziest negro in the whole island; he was -the biggest glutton in the whole world. He had an amazing number[54] of -children; and they were most of the time all half dead for hunger. - -Well, one day Yé went out to the woods to look for something to eat. -And he walked through the woods nearly all day, till he became ever so -tired; but he could not find anything to eat. He was just going to -give up the search, when he heard a queer crackling noise,--at no great -distance. He went to see what it was,--hiding himself behind the big -trees as he got nearer to it. - -All at once he came to a little hollow in the woods, and saw a great -fire burning there,--and he saw a Devil sitting beside the fire. The -Devil was roasting a great heap of snails; and the sound Yé had heard -was the crackling of the snail-shells. The Devil seemed to be very -old;--he was sitting on the trunk of a bread-fruit tree; and Yé took a -good long look at him. After Yé had watched him for a while, Yé found -out that the old Devil was quite blind. - ---The Devil had a big calabash in his hand full of _feroce_,--that is -to say, boiled salt codfish and manioc flour, with ever so many pimentos -(_épi en pile piment_),--just what negroes like Yé are most fond of. And -the Devil seemed to be very hungry; and the food was going so fast down -his throat that it made Yé unhappy to see it disappearing. It made him -so unhappy that he felt at last he could not resist the temptation to -steal from the old blind Devil. He crept quite close up to the Devil -without making any noise, and began to rob him. Every time the Devil -would lift his hand to his mouth, Yé would slip his own fingers into -the calabash, and snatch a piece. The old Devil did not even look -puzzled;--he did not seem to know anything; and Yé thought to himself -that the old Devil was a great fool. He began to get more and more -courage;--he took bigger and bigger handfuls out of the calabash;--he -ate even faster than the Devil could eat. At last there was only one -little bit left in the calabash. Yé put out his hand to take it,--and -all of a sudden the Devil made a grab at Yé's hand and caught it! Yé was -so frightened he could not even cry out, _Aïe-yaïe_. The Devil finished -the last morsel, threw down the calabash, and said to Yé in a terrible -voice:--"_Atò, saff!--ou c'est ta moin!_" (I've got you now, you -glutton;--you belong to me!) Then he jumped on Yé's back, like a great -ape, and twisted his legs round Yé's neck, and cried out:---"Carry me to -your cabin,--and walk fast!" - - -... When Yé's poor children saw him coming, they wondered what their -papa was carrying on his back. They thought it might be a sack of bread -or vegetables or perhaps a _régime_ of bananas,--for it was getting -dark, and they could not see well. They laughed and showed their -teeth and danced and screamed: "Here's papa coming with something to -eat!--papa's coming with something to eat!" But when Yé had got near -enough for them to see what he was carrying, they yelled and ran away to -hide themselves. As for the poor mother, she could only hold up her two -hands for horror. - -When they got into the cabin the Devil pointed to a corner, and said to -Yé:--"Put me down there!" Yé put him down. The Devil sat there in the -corner and never moved or spoke all that evening and all that night. He -seemed to be a very quiet Devil indeed. The children began to look at -him. - -But at breakfast-time, when the poor mother had managed to procure -something for the children to eat,--just some bread-fruit and yams,--the -old Devil suddenly rose up from his corner and muttered:-- - ---"_Manman mò!--papa mò!--touttt yche mò!_" (Mamma dead!--papa -dead!--all the children dead!) - -And he blew his breath on them, and they all fell down stiff as if they -were dead--_raidi-cadave!_. Then the Devil ate up everything there was -on the table. When he was done, he filled the pots and dishes with dirt, -and blew his breath again on Yé and all the family, and muttered:-- - ---"_Toutt moune lévé!_" (Everybody get up!) - -Then they all got up. Then he pointed to all the plates and dishes full -of dirt, and said to them:--[55] - ---"_Gobe-moin ça!_" - -And they had to gobble it all up, as he told them. - -After that it was no use trying to eat anything. Every time anything was -cooked, the Devil would do the same thing. It was thus the next day, and -the next, and the day after, and so every day for a long, long time. - - -Yé did not know what to do; but his wife said she did. If she was only -a man, she would soon get rid of that Devil. "Yé," she insisted, "go -and see the Bon-Dié [the Good-God], and ask him what to do. I would go -myself if I could; but women are not strong enough to climb the great -morne." - -So Yé started off very, very early one morning, before the peep of day, -and began to climb the Montagne Pelée. He climbed and walked, and walked -and climbed, until he got at last to the top of the Morne de la Croix.[56] - -Then he knocked at the sky as loud as he could till the Good-God put his -head out of a cloud and asked him what he wanted:-- - ---"_Eh bien!--ça ou ni, Yé fa ou lè?_" - -When Yé had recounted his troubles, the Good-God said:-- - ---"_Pauv ma pauv!_ I knew it all before you came, Yé. I can tell you -what to do; but I am afraid it will be no use--you will never be able to -do it! Your gluttony is going to be the ruin of you, poor Yé! Still, you -can try. Now listen well to what I am going to tell you. First of all, -you must not eat anything before you get home. Then when your wife has -the children's dinner ready, and you see the Devil getting up, you must -cry out:--'_Tam ni pou tam ni bé!_' Then the Devil will drop down dead. -Don't forget not to eat anything--_ou tanne?_"... - -Yé promised to remember all he was told, and not to eat anything on his -way down;--then he said good-bye to the Bon-Dié (_bien conm y faut_), -and started. All the way he kept repeating the words the Good-God had -told him: "_Tam ni pou tam ni bé!"--"tam ni pou tam ni bé!_"--over and -over again. - ---But before reaching home he had to cross a little stream; and on both -banks he saw wild guava-bushes growing, with plenty of sour guavas -upon them;--for it was not yet time for guavas to be ripe. Poor Yé was -hungry! He did all he could to resist the temptation, but it proved too -much for him. He broke all his promises to the Bon-Dié: he ate and ate -and ate till there were no more guavas left,--and then he began to eat -_zicaques_ and green plums, and all sorts of nasty sour things, till he -could not eat any more. - ---By the time he got to the cabin his teeth were so on edge that he -could scarcely speak distinctly enough to tell his wife to get the -supper ready. - -And so while everybody was happy, thinking that they were going to be -freed from their trouble, Yé was really in no condition to do anything. -The moment the supper was ready, the Devil got up from his corner as -usual, and approached the table. Then Yé tried to speak; but his teeth -were so on edge that instead of saying,--"_Tam ni pou tam ni bé_," he -could only stammer out:---"_Anni toqué Diabe-là cagnan_." - -This had no effect on the Devil at all: he seemed to be used to it! He -blew his breath on them all, sent them to sleep, ate up all the supper, -filled the empty dishes with filth, awoke Yé and his family, and ordered -them as usual;-- - ---"_Gobe-moin ça!_" And they had to gobble it up,--every bit of it. - - -The family nearly died of hunger and disgust. Twice more Yé climbed the -Montagne Pelée; twice more he climbed the Morne de la Croix; twice more -he disturbed the poor Bon-Dié, all for nothing!--since each time on his -way down he would fill his paunch with all sorts of nasty sour things, -so that he could not speak right. The Devil remained in the house night -and day;--the poor mother threw herself down on the ground, and pulled -out her hair,--so unhappy she was! - -But luckily for the poor woman, she had one child as cunning as a -rat,[57]--a boy called Ti Fonté (little Impudent), who bore his name well. -When he saw his mother crying so much, he said to her:-- - ---"Mamma, send papa just once more to see the Good-God: I know something -to do!" - -The mother knew how cunning her boy was: she felt sure he meant -something by his words;--she sent old Yé for the last time to see the -Bon-Dié. - -Yé used always to wear one of those big long coats they call -_lavalasses_;--whether it was hot or cool, wet or dry, he never went -out without it. There were two very big pockets in it--one on each side. -When Ti Fonté saw his father getting ready to go, he jumped _floup!_ -into one of the pockets and hid himself there. Yé climbed all the way -to the top of the Morne de la Croix without suspecting anything. When he -got there the little boy put one of his ears out of Yé's pocket,--so as -to hear everything the Good-God would say. - -This time he was very angry,--the Bon-Dié: he spoke very crossly; he -scolded Yé a great deal. But he was so kind for all that,--he was so -generous to good-for-nothing Yé, that he took the pains to repeat the -words over and over again for him:--"_Tam ni pou tam ni bé_."... And -this time the Bon-Dié was not talking to no purpose: there was somebody -there well able to remember what he said. Ti Fonté made the most of his -chance;--he sharpened that little tongue of his; he thought of his mamma -and all his little brothers and sisters dying of hunger down below. As -for his father, Yé did as he had done before--stuffed himself with all -the green fruit he could find. - -The moment Yé got home and took off his coat, Ti Fonté jumped out, -_plapp!_--and ran to his mamma, and whispered:-- - ---"Mamma, get ready a nice, big dinner!--we are going to have it all to -ourselves to-day: the Good-God didn't talk for nothing,--I heard every -word he said!" - -Then the mother got ready a nice _calalou-crabe_, a _tonton-banane_, -a _matété-cirique_,--several calabashes of _couss-caye_, two -_régimes-figues_ (bunches of small bananas),--in short, a very fine -dinner indeed, with a _chopine_ of tafia to wash it all well down. - -The Devil felt as sure of himself that day as he had always felt, and -got up the moment everything was ready. But Ti Fonté got up too, and -yelled out just as loud as he could:---"_Tam ni pou tam ni bé!_" - -At once the Devil gave a scream so loud that it could be heard right -down to the bottom of hell,--and he fell dead. - -Meanwhile, Yé, like the old fool he was, kept trying to say what the -Bon-Dié had told him, and could only mumble:-- - ---"_Anni toqué Diabe-là cagnan!_" - -He would never have been able to do anything;--and his wife had a great -mind just to send him to bed at once, instead of letting him sit down to -eat all those nice things. But she was a kind-hearted soul; and so she -let Yé stay and eat with the children, though he did not deserve it. And -they all ate and ate, and kept on eating and filling themselves until -daybreak--_pauv piti!_ - -But during this time the Devil had begun to smell badly and he had -become swollen so big that Yé found he could not move him. Still, they -knew they must get him out of the way somehow. The children had eaten so -much that they were all full of strength--_yo tè plein lafòce_; and Yé -got a rope and tied one end round the Devil's foot; and then he and the -children--all pulling together--managed to drag the Devil out of the -cabin and into the bushes, where they left him just like a dead dog. -They all felt themselves very happy to be rid of that old Devil. - - -But some days after old good-for-nothing Yé went off to hunt for birds. -He had a whole lot of arrows with him. He suddenly remembered the Devil, -and thought he would like to take one more look at him. And he did. - -_Fouinq!_ what a sight! The Devil's belly had swelled up like a morne: -it was yellow and blue and green,--looked as if it was going to burst. -And Yé, like the old fool he always was, shot an arrow up in the air, -so that it fell down and stuck into the Devil's belly. Then he wanted -to get the arrow, and he climbed up on the Devil, and pulled and pulled -till he got the arrow out. Then he put the point of the arrow to his -nose,--just to see what sort of a smell dead Devils had. - -The moment he did that, his nose swelled up as big as the refinery-pot -of a sugar-plantation. - - -Yé could scarcely walk for the weight of his nose; but he had to go and -see the Bon-Dié again. The Bon-Dié said to him:-- - ---"Ah! Yé, my poor Yé, you will live and die a fool!--you are certainly -the biggest fool in the whole world!... Still, I must try to do -something for you;--I'll help you anyhow to get rid of that nose!... -I'll tell you how to do it. To-morrow morning, very early, get up and -take a big _taya_ [whip], and beat all the bushes well, and drive all -the birds to the Roche de la Caravelle. Then you must tell them that I, -the Bon-Dié, want them to take off their bills and feathers, and take a -good bath in the sea. While they are bathing, you can choose a nose for -yourself out of the heap of bills there." - -Poor Yé did just as the Good-God told him; and while the birds were -bathing, he picked out a nose for himself from the heap of beaks,--and -left his own refinery-pot in its place. - -The nose he took was the nose of the _coulivicou_.[58] And that is why the -_coulivicou_ always looks so much ashamed of himself even to this day. - - -[Footnote 54: In the patois, "_yon rafale yche_"--"a whirlwind of -children."] - -[Footnote 55: In the original:--"Y té ka monté assous tabe-là, épi y -té ka fai caca adans toutt plats-à, adans toutt zassiett-là."] - -[Footnote 56: A peaklet rising above the verge of the ancient crater now -filled with water.] - -[Footnote 57: The great field-rat of Martinique is, in Martinique -folklore, the symbol of all cunning, and probably merits its -reputation.] - -[Footnote 58: The _coulivicou_, or "Colin Vicou," is a Martinique bird -with a long meagre body, and an enormous bill. It has a very tristful -and taciturn expression.... _Maig conm yon coulivicou_, "thin as a -coulivicou," is a popular comparison for the appearance of anybody much -reduced by sickness.] - - - - -III - - -... Poor Yé!--you still live for me only too vividly outside of those -strange folk-tales of eating and of drinking which so cruelly reveal the -long slave-hunger of your race. For I have seen you cutting cane on peak -slopes above the clouds;--I have seen you climbing from plantation to -plantation with your cutlass in your hand, watching for snakes as you -wander to look for work, when starvation forces you to obey a master, -though born with the resentment of centuries against all masters;--I -have seen you prefer to carry two hundred-weight of bananas twenty miles -to market, rather than labor in the fields;--I have seen you -ascending through serpent-swarming woods to some dead crater to find -a cabbage-palm,--and always hungry,--and always shiftless! And you -are still a great fool, poor Yé!--and you have still your swarm of -children,--your _rafale yche_,--and they are famished; for you have -taken into your _ajoupa_ a Devil who devours even more than you can -earn,--even your heart, and your splendid muscles, and your poor artless -brain,--the Devil Tafia!... And there is no Bon-Dié to help you rid -yourself of him now: for the only Bon-Dié you ever really had, your old -creole master, cannot care for you any more, and you cannot care for -yourself. Mercilessly moral, the will of this enlightened century has -abolished forever that patriarchal power which brought you up strong -and healthy on scanty fare, and scourged you into its own idea of -righteousness, yet kept you innocent as a child of the law of the -struggle for life. But you feel that law now;--you are a citizen of the -Republic! you are free to vote, and free to work, and free to starve -if you prefer it, and free to do evil and suffer for it;--and this new -knowledge stupefies you so that you have almost forgotten how to laugh! - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LYS - -I - - -It is only half-past four o'clock: there is the faintest blue light of -beginning day,--and little Victoire already stands at the bedside with -my wakening cup of hot black fragrant coffee. What! so early?... -Then with a sudden heart-start I remember this is my last West Indian -morning. And the child--her large timid eyes all gently luminous--is -pressing something into my hand. - -Two vanilla beans wrapped in a morsel of banana-leaf,--her poor little -farewell gift!... - -Other trifling souvenirs are already packed away. Almost everybody that -knows me has given me something. Manm-Robert brought me a tiny packet of -orange-seeds,--seeds of a "gift-orange": so long as I can keep these -in my vest-pocket I will never be without money. Cyrillia brought me -a package of _bouts_, and a pretty box of French matches, warranted -inextinguishable by wind. Azaline, the blanchisseuse, sent me a little -pocket looking-glass. Cerbonnie, the _màchanne_, left a little cup of -guava jelly for me last night. Mimi--dear child!--brought me a little -paper dog! It is her best toy; but those gentle black eyes would stream -with tears if I dared to refuse it.... Oh, Mimi! what am I to do with a -little paper dog? And what am I to do with the chocolate-sticks and the -cocoanuts and all the sugar-cane and all the cinnamon-apples?... - - - -II - - -... Twenty minutes past five by the clock of the Bourse. The hill -shadows are shrinking back from the shore;--the long wharves reach out -yellow into the sun;--the tamarinds of the Place Bertin, and the pharos -for half its height, and the red-tiled roofs along the bay are catching -the glow. Then, over the light-house--on the outermost line depending -from the southern yard-arm of the semaphore--a big black ball suddenly -runs up like a spider climbing its own thread.... _Steamer from the -South!_ The packet has been sighted. And I have not yet been able to -pack away into a specially purchased wooden box all the fruits and -vegetable curiosities and odd little presents sent to me. If Radice the -boatman had not come to help me, I should never be able to get ready; -for the work of packing is being continually interrupted by friends and -acquaintances coming to say good-bye. Manm-Robert brings to see me a -pretty young girl--very fair, with a violet foulard twisted about her -blonde head. It is little Basilique, who is going to make her _pouémiè -communion_. So I kiss her, according to the old colonial custom, once on -each downy cheek;--and she is to pray to _Notre Dame du Bon Port_ that -the ship shall bear me safely to far-away New York. - -And even then the steamer's cannon-call shakes over the town and into -the hills behind us, which answer with all the thunder of their phantom -artillery. - - - -III - - -... There is a young white lady, accompanied by an aged negress, already -waiting on the south wharf for the boat;--evidently she is to be one -of my fellow-passengers. Quite a pleasing presence: slight graceful -figure,--a face not precisely pretty, but delicate and sensitive, with -the odd charm of violet eyes under black eye-brows.... - -A friend who comes to see me off tells me all about her. Mademoiselle -Lys is going to New York to be a governess,--to leave her native island -forever. A story sad enough, though not more so than that of many a -gentle creole girl. And she is going all alone, for I see her bidding -good-bye to old Titine,--kissing her. "_Adié encò, chè;--Bon-Dié ké béni -ou!_" sobs the poor servant, with tears streaming down her kind black -face. She takes off her blue shoulder-kerchief, and waves it as the boat -recedes from the wooden steps. - - -... Fifteen minutes later, Mademoiselle and I find ourselves under the -awnings shading the saloon-deck of the _Guadeloupe_. There are at least -fifty passengers,--many resting in chairs, lazy-looking Demerara chairs -with arm-supports immensely lengthened so as to form rests for the lower -limbs. Overhead, suspended from the awning-frames, are two tin cages -containing parrots;--and I see two little greenish monkeys, no bigger -than squirrels, tied to the wheel-hatch,--two _sakiwinkis_. These are -from the forests of British Guiana. They keep up a continual thin sharp -twittering, like birds,--all the while circling, ascending, descending, -retreating or advancing to the limit of the little ropes attaching them -to the hatch. - -The _Guadeloupe_ has seven hundred packages to deliver at St. Pierre: we -have ample time,--Mademoiselle Violet-Eyes and I,--to take one last look -at the "Pays des Revenants." - -I wonder what her thoughts are, feeling a singular sympathy for -her,--for I am in that sympathetic mood which the natural emotion of -leaving places and persons one has become fond of, is apt to inspire. -And now at the moment of my going,--when I seem to understand as never -before the beauty of that tropic Nature, and the simple charm of the -life to which I am bidding farewell,--the question comes to me: "Does -she not love it all as I do,--nay, even much more, because of that in -her own existence which belongs to it?" But as a child of the land, -she has seen no other skies,--fancies, perhaps, there may be brighter -ones.... - -... Nowhere on this earth, Violet-Eyes!--nowhere beneath this sun!... -Oh! the dawnless glory of tropic morning!--the single sudden leap of the -giant light over the purpling of a hundred peaks,--over the surging of -the mornes! And the early breezes from the hills,--all cool out of -the sleep of the forests, and heavy with vegetal odors thick, sappy, -savage-sweet!--and the wild high winds that run ruffling and crumpling -through the cane of the mountain slopes in storms of papery sound!-- - -And the mighty dreaming of the woods,--green-drenched with silent -pouring of creepers,--dashed with the lilac and yellow and rosy foam of -liana flowers!-- - -And the eternal azure apparition of the all-circling sea,--that as you -mount the heights ever appears to rise perpendicularly behind you,--that -seems, as you descend, to sink and flatten before you!-- - -And the violet velvet distances of evening;--and the swaying of palms -against the orange-burning,--when all the heaven seems filled with -vapors of a molten sun!... - - - -IV - - -How beautiful the mornes and azure-shadowed hollows in the jewel -clearness of this perfect morning! Even Pelée wears only her very -lightest head-dress of gauze; and all the wrinklings of her green robe -take unfamiliar tenderness of tint from the early sun. All the quaint -peaking of the colored town--sprinkling the sweep of blue bay with red -and yellow and white-of-cream--takes a sharpness in this limpid light as -if seen through a diamond lens; and there above the living green of the -familiar hills I can see even the faces of the statues--the black Christ -on his white cross, and the White Lady of the Morne d'Orange--among -curving palms.... It is all as though the island were donning its utmost -possible loveliness, exerting all its witchery,--seeking by supremest -charm to win back and hold its wandering child,--Violet-Eyes over -there!... She is looking too. - -I wonder if she sees the great palms of the Voie du Parnasse,--curving -far away as to bid us adieu, like beautiful bending women. I wonder if -they are not trying to say something to her; and I try myself to fancy -what that something is:-- - ---"Child, wilt thou indeed abandon all who love thee!... Listen!--'tis -a dim grey land thou goest unto,--a land of bitter winds,--a land of -strange gods,--a land of hardness and barrenness, where even Nature may -not live through half the cycling of the year! Thou wilt never see us -there.... And there, when thou shalt sleep thy long sleep, child--that -land will have no power to lift thee up;--vast weight of stone will -press thee down forever;--until the heavens be no more thou shalt not -awake!... But here, darling, our loving roots would seek for thee, would -find thee: thou shouldst live again!--we lift, like Aztec priests, the -blood of hearts to the Sun."... - - - -V - - -... It is very hot.... I hold in my hand a Japanese paper-fan with a -design upon it of the simplest sort: one jointed green bamboo, with a -single spurt of sharp leaves, cutting across a pale blue murky double -streak that means the horizon above a sea. That is all. Trivial to my -Northern friends this design might seem; but to me it causes a pleasure -bordering on pain.... I know so well what the artist means; and they -could not know, unless they had seen bamboos,--and bamboos peculiarly -situated. As I look at this fan I know myself descending the Morne -Parnasse by the steep winding road; I have the sense of windy heights -behind me, and forest on either hand, and before me the blended azure of -sky and sea with one bamboo-spray swaying across it at the level of -my eyes. Nor is this all;--I have the every sensation of the very -moment,--the vegetal odors, the mighty tropic light, the warmth, the -intensity of irreproducible color.... Beyond a doubt, the artist who -dashed the design on this fan with his miraculous brush must have had a -nearly similar experience to that of which the memory is thus aroused in -me, but which I cannot communicate to others. - -... And it seems to me now that all which I have tried to write about -the _Pays des Revenants_ can only be for others, who have never beheld -it,--vague like the design upon this fan. - - - -VI - - -_Brrrrrrrrrrr!_... The steam-winch is lifting the anchor; and the -_Guadeloupe_ trembles through every plank as the iron torrent of her -chain-cable rumbles through the hawse-holes.... At last the quivering -ceases;--there is a moment's silence; and Violet-Eyes seems trying to -catch a last glimpse of her faithful _bonne_ among the ever-thickening -crowd upon the quay.... Ah! there she is--waving her foulard. -Mademoiselle Lys is waving a handkerchief in reply.... - -Suddenly the shock of the farewell gun shakes heavily through our -hearts, and over the bay,--where the tall mornes catch the flapping -thunder, and buffet it through all their circle in tremendous mockery. -Then there is a great whirling and whispering of whitened water behind -the steamer--another,--another; and the whirl becomes a foaming stream: -the mighty propeller is playing!.... All the blue harbor swings slowly -round;--and the green limbs of the land are pushed out further on the -left, shrink back upon the right;--and the mountains are moving their -shoulders. And then the many-tinted façades,--and the tamarinds of the -Place Bertin,--and the light-house,--and the long wharves with their -throng of turbaned women,--and the cathedral towers,--and the fair -palms,--and the statues of the hills,--all veer, change place, and begin -to float away... steadily, very swiftly. - - -Farewell, fair city,--sun-kissed city,--many-fountained city!--dear -yellow-glimmering streets,--white pavements learned by heart,--and faces -ever looked for,--and voices ever loved! Farewell, white towers with -your golden-throated bells!--farewell, green steeps, bathed in the light -of summer everlasting!--craters with your coronets of forest!--bright -mountain paths upwinding 'neath pomp of fern and angelin and feathery -bamboo!--and gracious palms that drowse above the dead! Farewell, -soft-shadowing majesty of valleys unfolding to the sun,--green golden -cane-fields ripening to the sea!... - - -... The town vanishes. The island slowly becomes a green silhouette. So -might Columbus first have seen it from the deck of his caravel,--nearly -four hundred years ago. At this distance there are no more signs of life -upon it than when it first became visible to his eyes: yet there are -cities there,--and toiling,--and suffering,--and gentle hearts that -knew me.... Now it is turning blue,--the beautiful shape!--becoming a -dream.... - - - -VII - - -And Dominica draws nearer,--sharply massing her hills against the vast -light in purple nodes and gibbosities and denticulations. Closer and -closer it comes, until the green of its heights breaks through the -purple here and there,--in flashings and ribbings of color. Then -it remains as if motionless a while;--then the green lights go out -again,--and all the shape begins to recede sideward towards the south. - -... And what had appeared a pearl-grey cloud in the north slowly -reveals itself as another island of mountains,--hunched and horned and -mammiform: Guadeloupe begins to show her double profile. But Martinique -is still visible;--Pelée still peers high over the rim of the south.... -Day wanes;--the shadow of the ship lengthens over the flower-blue water. -Pelée changes aspect at last,--turns pale as a ghost,--but will not fade -away.... - -... The sun begins to sink as he always sinks to his death in the -tropics,--swiftly,--too swiftly!--and the glory of him makes golden all -the hollow west,--and bronzes all the flickering wave-backs. But still -the gracious phantom of the island will not go,--softly haunting us -through the splendid haze. And always the tropic wind blows soft and -warm;--there is an indescribable caress in it! Perhaps some such breeze, -blowing from Indian waters, might have inspired that prophecy of Islam -concerning the Wind of the Last Day,--that "Yellow Wind, softer than -silk, balmier than musk,"--which is to sweep the spirits of the just to -God in the great Winnowing of Souls.... - -Then into the indigo night vanishes forever from my eyes the ghost of -Pelée; and the moon swings up,--a young and lazy moon, drowsing upon her -back, as in a hammock.... Yet a few nights more, and we shall see this -slim young moon erect,--gliding upright on her way,--coldly beautiful -like a fair Northern girl. - - - -VIII - - -And ever through tepid nights and azure days the _Guadeloupe_ rushes -on,--her wake a river of snow beneath the sun, a torrent of fire beneath -the stars,--steaming straight for the North. - -Under the peaking of Montserrat we steam,--beautiful Montserrat, -all softly wrinkled like a robe of greenest velvet fallen from the -waist!--breaking the pretty sleep of Plymouth town behind its screen -of palms... young palms, slender and full of grace as creole children -are;-- - -And by tall Nevis, with her trinity of dead craters purpling through -ocean-haze;--by clouded St. Christopher's mountain-giant;--past ghostly -St. Martin's, far-floating in fog of gold, like some dream of the -Saint's own Second Summer;-- - -Past low Antigua's vast blue harbor,--shark-haunted, bounded about by -huddling of little hills, blue and green. - -Past Santa Cruz, the "Island of the Holy Cross,"--all radiant with -verdure though well nigh woodless,--nakedly beautiful in the tropic -light as a perfect statue;-- - -Past the long cerulean reaching and heaping of Porto Rico on the left, -and past hopeless St. Thomas on the right,--old St. Thomas, watching -the going and the coming of the commerce that long since abandoned -her port,--watching the ships once humbly solicitous for patronage now -turning away to the Spanish rival, like ingrates forsaking a ruined -patrician;-- - -And the vapory Vision of, St. John;--and the grey ghost of Tortola,--and -further, fainter, still more weirdly dim, the aureate phantom of Virgin -Gorda. - - - - -IX - - -Then only the enormous double-vision of sky and sea. - -The sky: a cupola of blinding blue, shading down and paling into -spectral green at the rim of the world,--and all fleckless, save at -evening. Then, with sunset, comes a light gold-drift of little feathery -cloudlets into the West,--stippling it as with a snow of fire. - -The sea: no flower-tint may now make my comparison for the splendor of -its lucent color. It has shifted its hue;--for we have entered into the -Azure Stream: it has more than the magnificence of burning cyanogen.... - -But, at night, the Cross of the South appears no more. And other changes -come, as day succeeds to day,--a lengthening of the hours of light, a -longer lingering of the after-glow,--a cooling of the wind. Each morning -the air seems a little cooler, a little rarer;--each noon the sky looks -a little paler, a little further away--always heightening, yet also -more shadowy, as if its color, receding, were dimmed by distance,--were -coming more faintly down from vaster altitudes. - - -... Mademoiselle is petted like a child by the lady passengers. And -every man seems anxious to aid in making her voyage a pleasant one. For -much of which, I think, she may thank her eyes! - - - - -X - - -A dim morning and chill;--blank sky and sunless waters: the sombre -heaven of the North with colorless horizon rounding in a blind grey -sea.... What a sudden weight comes to the heart with the touch of the -cold mist, with the spectral melancholy of the dawn;--and then what -foolish though irrepressible yearning for the vanished azure left -behind! - -... The little monkeys twitter plaintively, trembling in the chilly air. -The parrots have nothing to say: they look benumbed, and sit on their -perches with eyes closed. - -... A vagueness begins to shape itself along the verge of the sea, far -to port: that long heavy clouding which indicates the approach of land. -And from it now floats to us something ghostly and frigid which makes -the light filmy and the sea shadowy as a flood of dreams,--the fog of -the Jersey coast. - -At once the engines slacken their respiration. The _Guadeloupe_ begins -to utter her steam-cry of warning,--regularly at intervals of two -minutes,--for she is now in the track of all the ocean vessels. And -from far away we can hear a heavy knelling,--the booming of some great -fog-bell. - -... All in a white twilight. The place of the horizon has vanished;--we -seem ringed in by a wall of smoke.... Out of this vapory emptiness--very -suddenly--an enormous steamer rushes, towering like a hill--passes -so close that we can see faces, and disappears again, leaving the sea -heaving and frothing behind her. - - -... As I lean over the rail to watch the swirling of the wake, I feel -something pulling at my sleeve: a hand,--a tiny black hand,--the hand of -a _sakiwinki_. One of the little monkeys, straining to the full length -of his string, is making this dumb appeal for human sympathy;--the -bird-black eyes of both are fixed upon me with the oddest look of -pleading. Poor little tropical exiles! I stoop to caress them; but -regret the impulse a moment later: they utter such beseeching cries when -I find myself obliged to leave them again alone!... - -... Hour after hour the _Guadeloupe_ glides on through the white -gloom,--cautiously, as if feeling her way; always sounding her whistle, -ringing her bells, until at last some brown-winged bark comes flitting -to us out of the mist, bearing a pilot.... How strange it must all seem -to Mademoiselle who stands so silent there at the rail!--how weird this -veiled world must appear to her, after the sapphire light of her own -West Indian sky, and the great lazulite splendor of her own tropic sea! - -But a wind comes;--it strengthens,--begins to blow very cold. The mists -thin before its blowing; and the wan blank sky is all revealed again -with livid horizon around the heaving of the iron-grey sea. - - -... Thou dim and lofty heaven of the North,--grey sky of Odin,--bitter -thy winds and spectral all thy colors!--they that dwell beneath thee -know not the glory of Eternal Summer's green,--the azure splendor of -southern day!--but thine are the lightnings of Thought illuminating for -human eyes the interspaces between sun and sun. Thine the generations -of might,--the strivers, the battlers,--the men who make Nature -tame!--thine the domain of inspiration and achievement,--the larger -heroisms, the vaster labors that endure, the higher knowledge, and all -the witchcrafts of science!... - - -But in each one of us there lives a mysterious Something which is Self, -yet also infinitely more than Self,--incomprehensibly multiple,--the -complex total of sensations, impulses, timidities belonging to the -unknown past. And the lips of the little stranger from the tropics have -become all white, because that Something within her,--ghostly bequest -from generations who loved the light and rest and wondrous color of a -more radiant world,--now shrinks all back about her girl's heart -with fear of this pale grim North.... And lo!--opening mile-wide in -dream-grey majesty before us,--reaching away, through measureless mazes -of masting, into remotenesses all vapor-veiled,--the mighty perspective -of New York harbor!... - - -Thou knowest it not, this gloom about us, little maiden;--'tis only -a magical dusk we are entering,--only that mystic dimness in which -miracles must be wrought!... See the marvellous shapes uprising,--the -immensities, the astonishments! And other greater wonders thou wilt -behold in a little while, when we shall have become lost to each other -forever in the surging of the City's million-hearted life!... 'Tis all -shadow here, thou sayest?--Ay, 'tis twilight, verily, by contrast -with that glory out of which thou camest, Lys--twilight only,--but the -Twilight of the Gods!... _Adié, chè!--Bon-Dié ké bént ou!_... - - - - -APPENDIX - - -SOME CREOLE MELODIES - - -More than a hundred years ago Thibault de Chanvallon expressed his -astonishment at the charm and wonderful sense of musical rhythm -characterizing the slave-songs and slave-dances of Martinique. The -rhythmical sense of the negroes especially impressed him. "I have seen," -he writes, "seven or eight hundred negroes accompanying a wedding-party -to the sound of song. They would all leap up in the air and come down -together;--the movement was so exact and general that the noise of their -fall made but a single sound." - -An almost similar phenomenon may be witnessed any Carnival season in St. -Pierre,--while the Devil makes his nightly round, followed by many -hundred boys clapping hands and leaping in chorus. It may also be -observed in the popular malicious custom of the pillard, or, in creole, -_piyà._ Some person whom it is deemed justifiable and safe to annoy, -may suddenly find himself followed in the street by a singing chorus of -several hundred, all clapping hands and dancing or running in perfect -time, so that all the bare feet strike the ground together. Or the -_pillard-chorus_ may even take up its position before the residence of -the party disliked, and then proceed with its performance. An example of -such a _pillard_ is given further on, in the song entitled _Loéma -tombé._ The improvisation by a single voice begins the pillard,--which -in English might be rendered as follows:-- - - -(_Single voice_) You little children there!--you who were by the -river-side! -Tell me truly this:--Did you see Loéma fall? -Tell me truly this-- -(_Chorus, opening_) Did you see Loéma fall? -(_Single voice_) Tell me truly this-- -(_Chorus_) Did you see Loéma fall? -(_Single voice, more rapidly_) Tell me truly this-- -(_Chorus, more quickly_) Loéma fall! -(_Single voice_) Tell me truly this-- -(_Chorus_) Loéma fall! -(_Single voice_) Tell me truly this-- -(_Chorus, always more quickly, and more loudly, all the hands -clapping together like a fire of musketry_) Loéma fall! etc. - - -The same rhythmic element characterizes many of the games and round -dances of Martinique children;--but, as a rule, I think it is -perceptible that the sense of time is less developed in the colored -children than in the black. - -The other melodies which are given as specimens of Martinique music show -less of the African element,--the nearest approach to it being in _Tant -sirop_; but all are probably creations of the mixed race. -_Marie-Clémence_ is a Carnival satire composed not more than four years -ago. _To-to-to_ is very old--dates back, perhaps, to the time of the -_belles-affranchies._ It is seldom sung now except by survivors of the -old régime: the sincerity and tenderness of the emotion that inspired -it--the old sweetness of heart and simplicity of thought,--are passing -forever away. - -To my friend, Henry Edward Krehbiel, the musical lecturer and -critic,--at once historian and folklorist in the study of -race-music,--and to Mr. Frank van der Stucken, the New York musical -composer, I owe the preparation of these four melodies for voice and -piano-forte. The arrangements of _To-to-to_ and _Loéma tombé_ are Mr. -Van der Stucken's. - - -"TO-TO-TO" - -(_Creole werds_) - -[Illustration] - - - - -MARIE-CLÉMENCE - -(_Creole words_) - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -TANT SIROP EST DOUX - -(_Negro-French_) - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -LOÉMA TOMBÉ - -(_Creole words_) - - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two years in the French West Indies, by -Lafcadio Hearn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO YEARS IN THE FRENCH WEST INDIES *** - -***** This file should be named 63102-0.txt or 63102-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/1/0/63102/ - -Produced by Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images -generously made available by Hathi Trust.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |