diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:26 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:27:26 -0700 |
| commit | 833a7a3ee280c001a581a53d156c89bfd46d46be (patch) | |
| tree | 8d3b2c92301e25edea3857ea4f15dae49d8f8a24 /6381-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '6381-h')
52 files changed, 15837 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/6381-h/6381-h.htm b/6381-h/6381-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e3227f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/6381-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15837 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Two Years in the French West Indies, by Lafcadio Hearn + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Two Years in the French West Indies, by Lafcadio Hearn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 + + +Title: Two Years in the French West Indies + +Author: Lafcadio Hearn + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6381] +Last Updated: November 17, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH WEST INDIES *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Farris and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + TWO YEARS IN THE FRENCH WEST INDIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Lafcadio Hearn + </h2> + <h4> + Author Of "Chita" Etc. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Illustrated + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="frontispiece (128K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="titlepage (35K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + "<i>La façon d'être du pays est si agréable, la température si bonne, et + l'on y vit dans une liberté si honnête, que je n'aye pas vu un seul + homme, ny une seule femme, qui en soient revenues, en qui je n'aye + remarqué une grande passion d'y retourner.</i>"-LE PÈRE DUTERTRE (1667) + </p> + <p> + À MON CHER AMI LEOPOLD ARNOUX + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <big><b>A TRIP TO THE TROPICS.</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART"> <big><b>PART ONE—A MIDSUMMER TRIP TO THE + TROPICS.</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <big><b>PART TWO—MARTINIQUE SKETCHES.</b></big> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — LES PORTEUSES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — LA GRANDE ANSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — UN REVENANT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — LA GUIABLESSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — LA VÉRETTE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — LES BLANCHISSEUSES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — LA PELÉE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — 'TI CANOTIÉ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — LA FILLE DE COULEUR. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — BÊTE-NI-PIÉ. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — MA BONNE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — "PA COMBINÉ, CHÈ!" </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — YÉ. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV — LYS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> ENDNOTES </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>List of Illustrations</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> La Place Bertin (the Sugar Landing), St. + Pierre, Martinique. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Itinerant Pastry-seller. "tourjours Content, + Toujours Joyeux." </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> In the Cimetère Du Mouillage, St. Pierre. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> In the Jardin Des Plantes, St. Pierre. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> Cascade in the Jardin Des Plantes. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0006"> Departure of Steamer for Fort-de-france. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0007"> Statue of Josephine. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0008"> Inner Basin, Bridgetown, Barbadoes. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0009"> Trafalgar Square, Bridgetown, Barbadoes. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0010"> Street in Georgetown, Demerara. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0011"> Avenue in Georgetown, Demerara. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0012"> Victoria Regia in the Canal at Georgetown </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0013"> Demerara Coolie Girl. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0014"> St. James Avenue, Port-of-spain, Trinidad. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0015"> Coolies of Trinidad. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0016"> Coolie Servant. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0017"> Coolie Merchant. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0018"> Church Street, St. George, Grenada. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0019"> Castries, St. Lucia. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0020"> 'ti Marie (on the Route from St. Pierre To + Basse-pointe.) </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0021"> Fort-de-france, Martinique—(formerly Fort + Royal.) </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0022"> A Creole Capre in Working Garb. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0023"> A Confirmation Procession. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0024"> Manner of Playing the Ka </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0025"> A Wayside Shrine, Or Chapelle. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0026"> Rue Victor Hugo (formerly Grande Rue), St. + Pierre </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0027"> Quarter of the Fort, St. Pierre (overlooking + The Rivière Roxelane). </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0028"> Rivière Des Blanchisseuses. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0029"> Foot of PelÉe, Behind the Quarter Of The Fort. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0030"> Village of Morne Rouge, Martinique </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0031"> La Montagne PelÉe, As Seen from Grande Anse. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0032"> Arborescent Ferns on a Mountain Road. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0033"> 'ti Canot. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0034"> The Martinique Turban, Or Madras Calende. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0035"> The Guadeloupe Head-dress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0036"> Young Mulattress. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0037"> Plantation Coolie Woman in Martinique Costume. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0038"> Coolie Half-breed </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0039"> Country-girl—pure Negro Race. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0040"> Capresse. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0041"> Old Market-place of the Fort, St. Pierre.—(removed + In 1888). </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0042"> Bread-fruit Tree. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0043"> Basse-terre St. Kitts. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_NOTA" id="link2H_NOTA"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h3> + NOTAIRE À SAINT PIERRE, MARTINIQUE + </h3> + <p> + <i>Souvenir de nos 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 Pay des Revenants.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + 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,—<i>Le Pays des Revenants</i>. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + L. H. + </p> + <p> + <i>Philadelphia, 1889.</i> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A TRIP TO THE TROPICS. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART ONE—A MIDSUMMER TRIP TO THE TROPICS. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Far off the surface begins to show quick white flashes here and there, and + the steamer begins to swing.... We are nearing 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—<i>do-do, hey! do-do, hey!</i>—lulls to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + ..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 <i>crescendo</i> + and <i>diminuendo</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + ...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 sunsetward. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... A nice old French gentleman from Guadeloupe presumes to say this is + not blue water—he declares it greenish (<i>verdâtre</i>). Because I + cannot discern the green, he tells me I do not yet know what blue water + is. <i>Attendez un peu!</i>... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. <i>"Mon Dieu! non</i>," he exclaims, as in astonishment + at the question;—"this is not blue!"...What can be <i>his</i> idea + of blue, I wonder! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 + </p> + <p> + ... 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, "<i>Oh</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + The French passenger from Guadeloupe observes that the sea is "beginning + to become blue." + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Ten A.M.—Under the sun the sea is a flaming, dazzling lazulite. + My French friend from Guadeloupe kindly confesses this is <i>almost</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 white-caps,—only the enormous swells, too broad to see, + as the ocean falls and rises like a dreamer's breast.... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Via Lactea</i>,—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 it has been well pointed out to you + that you discern its position. Then you find it is only the <i>suggestion</i> + of a cross—four stars set almost quadrangularly, some brighter than + others. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + Morning over the Caribbean Sea,—a calm, extremely dark-blue sea. + There are lands in sight,—high lands, with sharp, peaked, unfamiliar + outlines. + </p> + <p> + 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 cloud. 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + As we approach, sun lighted 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + But all the buildings look dilapidated; the stucco and paint is 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + These green oranges have a delicious scent and amazing juiciness. Peeling + 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 naif purity: something as opulent and frank as the + juices and odors of tropical fruits and flowers. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>pomme-cannelle</i> + 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 rises 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 only cast very thin green shadows,—so transparent that + fish can be distinctly seen passing through from sunlight to sunlight. + </p> + <p> + 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 light.... We leave + to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 end 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,—"sap-saps," + "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. + </p> + <p> + 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 yellow men 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 visitor is the pretty + Botanical Garden, with its banyans and its palms, its monstrous lilies and + extraordinary fruit-trees, and its beautiful little mountains. From some + of these trees a peculiar tillandsia streams down, much like our Spanish + moss,—but it is black! + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 today 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. + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 ing 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 black; and there are surprising displays of phosphorescence. + </p> + <p> + XI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Another hour; and Martinique looms before us. At first it appears all + gray, a vapory gray; then it becomes bluish-gray; then all green. + </p> + <p> + 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 spurs 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 Pelee (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 slided 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. + </p> + <p> + We anchor in limpid blue water; the cannon-shot is answered by a prolonged + thunder-clapping of mountain echo. + </p> + <p> + 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 head-foremost 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/01-La_Place_Bertin.jpg" + alt="La Place Bertin (the Sugar Landing), St. Pierre, Martinique. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 swans. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + XII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>mulâtresse, capresse, griffe, quarteronne, métisse, + chabine,</i>—a general effect of rich brownish yellow. You are among + a people of half-breeds,—the finest mixed race of the West Indies. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Perhaps the most novel impression of all is that produced by the + singularity and brilliancy of certain of the women's costumes. These were + 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 <i>jupe</i>, 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 <i>foulard</i>, or + silken kerchief, thrown over the shoulders. These <i>jupes</i> and <i>foulards</i>, + 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 jewellery: immense earrings, + 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 + ally graven)—the wonderful <i>collier-choux</i>. Now, this glowing + jewellery 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 <i>doudoux</i>, but such articles are usually + purchased either on time by small payments, or bead by bead singly until + the requisite number is made up. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>douillette</i>) reaching from neck + to feet, and made with a train, but generally girded well up so as to sit + close 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 most 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. + </p> + <p> + ...<i>"Çe moune-là, ça qui lè bel mango?"</i> Her basket of mangoes + certainly weighs as much as herself.... <i>"Ça qui lè bel avocat?,"</i> + The alligator-pear—cuts and tastes like beautiful green cheese... <i>"Ça + qui lè escargot?"</i> Call her, if you like snails.... <i>"Ca qui lè + titiri?"</i> Minuscule fish, of which a thousand would scarcely fill a + tea-cup;—one of the most delicate of Martinique dishes.... <i>"Ça + qui lè canna?—Ça qui lè charbon?—Ça qui lè di pain aubè?</i>" + (Who wants ducks, charcoal, or pretty little loaves shaped like + cucumbers.)... <i>"Ça qui lè pain-mi?"</i> A sweet maize cake in the form + of a tiny sugar-loaf, wrapped in a piece of banana leaf.... <i>"Ça qui lè + fromassé" (pharmacie) "lapotécai créole?"</i> She deals in creole roots + and herbs, and all the leaves that make <i>tisanes</i> or poultices or + medicines: <i>matriquin, feuill-corossol, balai-doux, manioc-chapelle, + Marie-Perrine, graine-enba-feuill, bois d'lhomme, zhèbe-gras, + bonnet-carré, zhèbe-codeinne, zhèbe-à-femme, zhèbe-à-châtte, canne-dleau, + poque, fleu-papillon, lateigne,</i> and a score of others you never saw or + heard of before.... <i>"Ça qui lè dicaments?"</i> (overalls for + laboring-men).... <i>"Çé moune-là, si ou pa lè acheté canari-à dans + lanmain moin, moin ké crazé y."</i> The vender of red clay cooking-pots;—she + has only one left, if you do not buy it she will break it! + </p> + <p> + <i>"Hé! zenfants-la!—en deho'!"</i> Run out to meet her, little + children, if you like the sweet rice-cakes.... <i>"Hé! gens pa' enho', + gens pa' enbas, gens di galtas, moin ni bel gououôs poisson!"</i> 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!... <i>"Hé! ça qui lé mangé yonne?"</i>—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 a clarinet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"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!"</i> +</pre> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + jewellery 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 <i>poupée</i>. There are two kinds,—the + <i>poupée-capresse</i>, of which the body is covered with smooth + reddish-brown leather, to imitate the tint of the capresse race; and the + <i>poupée-négresse</i>, 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 <i>poupée-négresse</i> is + a delightful curiosity. Both varieties of dolls are attired in the costume + of the people; but the <i>négresse</i> is usually dressed the more simply. + Each doll has a broidered chemise, a tastefully arranged <i>jupe</i> of + bright hues; a silk <i>foulard</i>, a <i>collier-choux</i>, ear-rings of + five cylinders (<i>zanneaux-à-clous</i>), 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/02-Pastry_Seller.jpg" + alt="Itinerant Pastry-seller. 'tourjours Content, Toujours Joyeux.' " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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, <i>pouend guêpe</i>, + "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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>costume de + fête</i>, like a <i>capresse</i> attired for a baptism or a ball; and in + her phantom turban one great star glimmers for a brooch. + </p> + <p> + XIII. + </p> + <p> + 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 marketplace. <a + href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1">[1]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>vierge</i>, the sword fish, + the <i>tonne</i>,—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 pendent silver fringe;—others bristle + with spines;—others, serpent-bodied, are so speckled as to resemble + shapes of red polished granite. These are <i>moringues</i>. The <i>balaou, + couliou, macriau, lazard, tcha-tcha, bonnique</i>, and <i>zorphi</i> + severally represent almost all possible tints of blue and violet. The <i>souri</i> + is rose-color and yellow; the <i>cirurgien</i> is black, with yellow and + red stripes; the <i>patate</i>, black and yellow; the <i>gros-zié</i> is + vermilion; the <i>couronné</i>, red and black. Their names are not less + unfamiliar than their shapes and tints;-the <i>aiguille-de-mer</i>, or + sea-needle, long and thin as a pencil;-the <i>Bon-Dié-manié-moin</i> ("the + Good-God handled me"), which has something like finger-marks upon it;—the + <i>lambi</i>, a huge sea-snail;—the <i>pisquette</i>, the <i>laline</i> + (the Moon);—the <i>crapaud-de-mer</i>, or sea-toad, with a dangerous + dorsal fin;—the <i>vermeil</i>, the <i>jacquot</i>, the <i>chaponne</i>, + and fifty others.... As the sun gets higher, banana or balisier leaves are + laid over the fish. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>akras</i>. + 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 + <i>vers-palmiste</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Then you begin to look about you at the faces of the black, brown, and + yellow people who are watching at 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 be + compared; the only terms of comparison used by the colored people + themselves being terms of this kind,—such as <i>peau-chapotille</i>, + "sapota-skin." The <i>sapota</i> or <i>sapotille</i> 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 + gulf orange babies, There is one rare race-type, totally unseen like 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 the 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. <a + href="#linknote-2" name="linknoteref-2" id="linknoteref-2">[2]</a> + </p> + <p> + ... All this population is vigorous, graceful, healthy: all you see + passing by are well made—there are no sickly faces, no 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 (<i>lantcho</i>) + 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 + never 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. + </p> + <p> + At the <i>mouillage</i>, below a green <i>morne</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + It is about one hour after sunrise; and the high parts of Montaigne 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.... + </p> + <p> + XIV. + </p> + <p> + ... Everywhere crosses, little shrines, way-side 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 <i>relievo</i> representing some + incident of Christ's Passion. This is called <i>Le Calvaire</i>: 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Centre</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Thrice daily, from the towers of the white cathedral, a superb chime + of bells rolls its <i>carillon</i> 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 in cantatory + manner of ringing. The <i>bourdon</i> 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 <i>bel-midi</i>. + </p> + <p> + ... Behind the cathedral, above the peaked city roofs, and at the foot of + the wood-clad Morne d'Orange, is the <i>Cimetière du Mouillage</i>.... 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 on 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 unconciously 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/03-Cimetiere.jpg" + alt="In the Cimetère Du Mouillage, St. Pierre. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 stone-work, patiently, imperceptibly, yet almost irresistibly. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 corne 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.... + </p> + <p> + XV. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + 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. + </p> + <p> + XVI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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, one of whose works I venture to translate the + following remarkable pages: + </p> + <p> + ... "The sea, the sea alone, because it is the most colossal of earthly + spectacles,—only the sea can afford us any terms of comparison for + the attempt to describe a <i>grand-bois</i>;—but even then one must + imagine the sea on a day of a 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. + </p> + <p> + "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 <i>balisier</i> + opens its parasol of leaves beside the <i>gommier</i>, which is the cedar + of the colonies you see the <i>acomat</i>, the <i>courbaril</i>, the + mahogany, the <i>tedre-à-caillou</i>, 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 debris,—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 (<i>lurida lux</i>), + 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: + </p> + <p> + "'Arboribus suus horror inest.'" * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Enquête sur le Serpent de la Martinique (Vipère Fer-de- + Lance, Bothrops Lancéolé, etc.)" Par le Docteur E. Rufz. 2 + ed. 1859. Paris: Germer-Ballière. pp. 55-57 (note). +</pre> + <p> + XVII. + </p> + <p> + 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 in conceived 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 <i>fer-de-lance + (trigonocephalus lanceolatus,—bothrops lanceolatus,—craspodecephalus</i>),—deadliest + of the Occidental thanatophidia, and probably one of the deadliest + serpents of the known world. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + And the fer-de-lance reigns absolute king over the mountains and the + ravines; he is lord of the forest and solitudes by day, and by night he + extends his dominion over the public roads, the familiar paths, the parks, + 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 It, 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 or, and begins to spot + violaceously; while an icy coldness creeps through all the blood. If the + <i>panseur</i> 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 simuulate 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. + </p> + <p> + To-day a fer-de-lance is seldom found exceeding six feet 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 <i>couresse</i>—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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 overpours 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 mongoos, or <i>mangouste</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/04-Jardin.jpg" + alt="In the Jardin Des Plantes, St. Pierre. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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 the + 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 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 trionocephalus 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 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!... + </p> + <p> + XVIII. + </p> + <p> + The Jardin des Plantes is not absolutely secure from visits of the + serpent; for the trigonocephalus goes everywhere,—mounting to the + very summits of the cocoa-palms, swimming rivers, ascending walls, hiding + in 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. Arbores. cent ferps of unfammiliar elegance curve + up from path-verge lake-brink; and the great <i>arbre-du-voyageur</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>An. II.</i>);—it is very quaint; it + suggests an art spirit as old as Versailles, or older; but it is + indescribably beautiful even now. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 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 clear 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! + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Allée + des duels</i>.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/05-Cascade.jpg" alt="Cascade in the Jardin Des Plantes. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 <i>agronome</i> 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 plants,—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 + clearedd 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 lovliness of the + place;—barbarism was necessary! Under the present negro-radical + regime 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. + </p> + <p> + XIX. + </p> + <p> + How gray seem the words of poets in the presence is 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, defying all 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 son 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + XX. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/Departure_Steamer.jpg" + alt="Departure of Steamer for Fort-de-france. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... Tropical nights have a splendor that seems strange to northern eyes. + The sky does not look so high—so far way as in the North; but the + stars are larger, and the luminosity greater. + </p> + <p> + With the rising of the moon all the violet of the sky flushes;—there + is almost such a rose-color as heralds northern dawn. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + XXI. + </p> + <p> + You reach Fort-de-France, the capital of Martinique, steamer from St. + Pierre, in about an hour and a... There is an overland route—<i>La + Trace</i>, but it twenty-five-mile ride, and a weary one in such a + climate, notwithstanding the indescribable beauty of the landscapes which + the lofty road commands. + </p> + <p> + 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 allover + the little town in about half an hour. But the Savane,—the great + green public square, with its grand tamarinds and <i>sabliers</i>,—would + be worth the visit alone, even were it not made romantic by the marble + memory of Josephine. + </p> + <p> + I went to look at the white dream of her there, a creation of + master-sculptors.... It seemed to me absolutely lovely. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/06-Josephine.jpg" alt="Statue of Josephine. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + XXII. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 viole transparency of tropical night reappears,—ablaze + with stars. + </p> + <p> + At early morning a long low land appears on the horizon,—totally + unlike the others we have seen; it has no visable 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 begun; + 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.... Mean while 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + really 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/07-Bridgetown.jpg" + alt="Inner Basin, Bridgetown, Barbadoes. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 3000 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + XXIII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/08-Trafalgar.jpg" + alt="Trafalgar Square, Bridgetown, Barbadoes. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 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 up all at the same time, + glow for a while, disappear, reappear, and swirl away in a prolonged + smouldering. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + Then another night, very luminous and calm. The Southern constellations + burn whitely.... We are nearing the great shallows of the South American + coast. + </p> + <p> + XXIV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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!... + </p> + <p> + There is land in sight—very low land,—a thin dark line + suggesting marshiness; and the nauseous color of the water always deepens. + </p> + <p> + As the land draws near, it reveals a beautiful tropical appearance. The + sombre green line brightens color, I 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. + </p> + <p> + XXV. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0010" id="linkimage-0010"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/09-Street.jpg" alt="Street in Georgetown, Demerara. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + XXVI. + </p> + <p> + 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 up-reaching 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 super-natural.... And I + wonder if some kindred fancy might not have inspired the name given by the + French colonists to the male palmiste,—<i>angelin</i>.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0011" id="linkimage-0011"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/Avenue_Georgetown.jpg" + alt="Avenue in Georgetown, Demerara. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 up-turned 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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! + </p> + <p> + XXVII. + </p> + <p> + 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, stern 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 eye + glitters like a serpent's. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0012" id="linkimage-0012"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/10-Victoria_Regia.jpg" + alt="Victoria Regia in the Canal at Georgetown " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 heavy black beards are probably Mussulmans: I am told they have + their mosques here, and that the muezzein'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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + jewellery 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0013" id="linkimage-0013"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/11-Coolie_Girl.jpg" alt="Demerara Coolie Girl. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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 sun + 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. + </p> + <p> + XXVIII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 denser 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 anyone + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + XXIX. + </p> + <p> + ... Sunrise: a morning of supernal beauty,—the sky of a fairy tale,—the + sea of a love-poem. + </p> + <p> + 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 + impossiblity. As yet the hills are nearly all gray, the forests also + inwrapping them are gray and ghostly, for the sun has but just risen above + them, and vapors hang like a veil between. Then, over the glassy level of + the flood, winds 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + XXX. + </p> + <p> + 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 a 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 impressions, 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0014" id="linkimage-0014"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/12-St_James_Ave.jpg" + alt="St. James Avenue, Port-of-spain, Trinidad. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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 sheafwise 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 naïf;—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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 known 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. "<i>Vlé béras!</i>" explains my creole driver, pointing to his + client. The smith opens his lips to utter in the tone of a call the single + syllable "<i>Ra</i>!" then folds his arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0015" id="linkimage-0015"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/13-Coolies.jpg" alt="Coolies of Trinidad. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then I ask for children's <i>béras</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0016" id="linkimage-0016"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/14-Coolie_Servant.jpg" alt="Coolie Servant. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + XXXI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... There are heavy damp smells in the warm air as of mould, or of wet + clay freshly upturned. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0017" id="linkimage-0017"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/15-Coolie_Merchant.jpg" alt="Coolie Merchant. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 + beveling 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... In the mixed English and creole speech of the black population one can + discern evidence of a linguistic transition. The original French <i>patois</i> + is being rapidly forgotten or transformed irrecognizably. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>patois</i>. 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 anyone to imagine who has not heard it.... + </p> + <p> + XXXII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0018" id="linkimage-0018"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/16-Churh_Street.jpg" + alt="Church Street, St. George, Grenada. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 <i>patois</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 lights; and as we draw yet nearer they prove dissimilar + both in 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 pylones. And a charming little settlement, a + beautiful sugar-plantation, is nestling there between them, on the very + edge of the bay. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... We pass the Pitons, and enter another little craterine harbor, to cast + anchor before the village of Choi-seul. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Evening at La Soufrière: still another semicircular bay in a hollow of + green hills. Glens hold bluish shadows ows. 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 is 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 hills + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + XXXIII. + </p> + <p> + Homeward bound. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0019" id="linkimage-0019"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/17-Castries.jpg" alt="Castries, St. Lucia. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 fruit, 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? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART TWO—MARTINIQUE SKETCHES. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — LES PORTEUSES. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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?".... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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 inter-blending 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 <i>not</i> protrude;—the + foot is <i>not</i> 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!... + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>porteuse</i>, 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 <i>charbonnière</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>trait</i> (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 of 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, <i>by walking fifty miles + a day</i>, as an itinerant seller. Among her class there are figures to + make you dream of Atalanta;—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 those + 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. + </p> + <p> + As a general rule, the weight is such that no well-freighted porteuse can, + unassisted, either "load" or "unload" (<i>châgé</i> or <i>déchâgé</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. <a href="#linknote-3" + name="linknoteref-3" id="linknoteref-3">[3]</a> + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + Preparing for her journey, the young <i>màchanne</i> (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 <i>mouchoir</i> + 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, <i>tòche</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0020" id="linkimage-0020"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/18-Ti_Marie.jpg" + alt="'ti Marie (on the Route from St. Pierre To Basse-pointe.) " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>tafia</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + ... So!—She is ready: "<i>Châgé moin, souplè, chè!</i>" She bends to + lift the end of the heavy trait: some one takes the other,—<i>yon!-dé!—toua!</i>—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 + mid-day,—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 <i>zombis</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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 303 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 mile-stones, 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 + exqisiteness 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. + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + 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 un-acclimated 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>marchande</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 during 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 <i>bouts</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0021" id="linkimage-0021"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/19-Fort_de_France.jpg" + alt="Fort-de-france, Martinique--(formerly Fort Royal.) " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + 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 ain 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 deason 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + ... "<i>Ou 'lè màchanne!</i>" 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 come 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. + </p> + <p> + ... "<i>Bonjou', Maiyotte;—bonjou', Chéchelle! coument ou kallé, + Rina, chè!</i>"... 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 + un-corded, 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; <i>pelotes</i> + of thread, and tapes, and ribbons, and laces, and Madeira wine; cuffs, and + collars, and dancing-shoes, and tobacco <i>sachets</i>.... But what is in + that little flat bundle? Presents for your <i>guêpe</i>, if you have + one.... <i>Fesis-Maïa!</i>—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. + </p> + <p> + "Chéchelle, what a <i>bloucoutoum</i> if you should ever let that tray + fall—<i>aïe yaïe yaïe!</i>" Here is a whole shop of crockeries and + porcelains;—plates, dishes, cups,—earthen-ware <i>canaris</i> + and <i>dobannes</i>, and gift-mugs and cups bearing creole girls' names,—all + names that end in <i>ine</i>. "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!... + </p> + <p> + ... "Oh, Rina, what superb oranges!—fully twelve inches round—! + </p> + <p> + ... "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 <i>pomme-cythère</i>: the smooth cuticle, bitter as gall, covers a + sweet juicy pulp, interwoven with something that seems like cotton + thread.... Here is a <i>pomme-cannelle</i>: inside its scaly covering is + the most delicious yellow custard conceivable, with little black seeds + floating in it. This larger <i>corossol</i> has almost as delicate an + interior, only the custard is white instead of yellow.... Here are <i>christophines</i>,—great + pear-shaped things, white and green, according to kind, with a peel + prickly and knobby as the skin of a horned toad; but they stew + exquisitely. And <i>mélongènes</i>, or egg-plants; and palmiste-pith, and + <i>chadèques</i>, and <i>pommes-d' Haïti</i>,—and roots that at + first sight look all alike, but they are not: there are <i>camanioc</i>, + and <i>couscous</i>, and <i>choux-caraïbes</i>, and <i>zignames</i>, and + various kinds of <i>patates</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>biscuit</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + the dust, and all the disappointments? Ah, you are cunning, Maiyotte! No, + I do not want the change! + </p> + <p> + XI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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! + </p> + <p> + 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: "<i>Ou jojoll, oui!—moin + ni envie monté assou ou, pou moin ouè bien, bien!</i>" (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—"<i>joli + pié-bois-là!</i>"—talks to it as she goes by,—bids it + good-day. + </p> + <p> + 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: "<i>Mi lanmé ka gaudé moin!</i>" (There is the great sea + looking at me!) "<i>Màché toujou deïé moin, lanmè!</i>" (Walk after me, 0 + Sea!) + </p> + <p> + 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: "<i>Pas mouillé moin, laplie-à! Quitté moin rivé avant mouillé + moin!</i>" (Do not wet me, 0 Rain! Let me get there before thou wettest + me!) + </p> + <p> + Sometimes a dog barks at her, menaces her bare limbs; and she talks to the + dog: "<i>Chien-a, pas mòdé moin, chien—anh! Moin pa fé ou arien, + chien, pou ou mòdé moin!</i>" (Do not bite me, 0 Dog! Never did I anything + to thee that thou shouldst bite me, 0 Dog! Do not bite me, dear! Do not + bite me, <i>doudoux</i>!) + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she meets a laden sister travelling the opposite way.... "<i>Coument + ou yé, chè?</i>" she cries. (How art thou, dear?) And the other makes + answer, "<i>Toutt douce, chè,—et ou?</i>" (All sweetly, dear,—and + thou?) And each passes on without pausing: they have no time! + </p> + <p> + ... It is perhaps the last human voice she will hear for many a mile. + After that only the whisper of the grasses—<i>graïe-gras, + graïe-gras!</i>—and the gossip of the canes—<i>chououa, + chououa!</i>—and the husky speech of the <i>pois-Angole, ka babillé + conm yon vié fenme</i>,—that babbles like an old woman;—and + the murmur of the <i>filao</i>-trees, like the murmur of the River of the + Washerwomen. + </p> + <p> + XII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + from 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,—stricken by a serpent in some mountain + path where there was none to aid.... The roads were not as good then as + now. + </p> + <p> + ... 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-Clê trotting behind, very tired.... + Never mind, Ti-Clê!—you will outwalk your cousins when you are a few + years older,—pretty Ti-Clê.... Here come Cyrillia and Zabette, and + Fêfê and Dodotte and Fevriette. And behind them are coming the two <i>chabines</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + And all smile to see Jean-Marie waiting for them, and to hear his deep + kind voice calling, "<i>Coument ou yé, chè? coument ou kallé?</i>" ...(How + art thou, dear?—how goes it with thee?) + </p> + <p> + And they mostly make answer, <i>"Toutt douce, chè,—et ou?</i>" (All + sweetly, dear,—and thou?) But some, over-weary, cry to him, "<i>Ah! + déchâgé moin vite, chè! moin lasse, lasse!</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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, "<i>Ah! déchâgé moin vite, chè! moin lasse!</i>"—and see the + mighty arms outreach to take the burdens away. ... Only, there is a + change',—I know not what!... All vapory the road is, and the fronds, + and the comely coming 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. I who cry to Thee, thou dear black + Giver of the perpetual rest, "<i>Ah! déchâgé moin vite, chè! moin lasse!</i>" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — LA GRANDE ANSE. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + In 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 "Grand Anse."...<i>Ah! c'est de Grande Anse, ça!</i> And if + any commonplace, uninteresting type showed itself it would be signalled as + from somewhere else—Gros-Morne, Capote, Marigot, perhaps,—but + never from Grand Anse. The Grande Anse girls were distinguished 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, perectly 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. + </p> + <p> + "Are they all banana-colored at Grande Anse?" I asked,—"and all as + pretty as these?" + </p> + <p> + "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: <i>il y a une belle jeunesse là, mon cher!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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 + Grand 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 + bare-footed 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + island at once—<i>lapis lazuli</i> blue. From this elevation the + road descends by a hundred windings and lessening undulations to the + eastern shore. It sinks between mornes 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 <i>siffleur-de-montagne</i>; then all is stillness. You are + not likely 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 is 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,—<i>Bonjou', + Missié!</i> Then you should reply, if the speaker be a woman and pretty, + "Good-day, dear" (<i>bonjou', chè</i>), or, "Good-day, my daughter" (<i>mafi</i>) + even if she be old; while if the passer-by be a man, your proper reply is, + "Good-day, my son" (<i>monfi</i>).... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0022" id="linkimage-0022"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/20-Creole.jpg" alt="A Creole Capre in Working Garb. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 mornes 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 <i>Filasse</i> + 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 verqant, 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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 corner 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 Riviere de la + Grande Anse. + </p> + <p> + 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 horned, 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 + <i>La Trace</i> winds between primeval forest walls. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>fonds</i>) 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>loseille-bois</i>,—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 <i>nasses</i>—curious + fish-traps made of split bamboos interwoven and held in place with <i>mibi</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,—to dream of that strange sapphire sea + white-bursting over its beach of black sand. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>bouton chauds</i> + (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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + 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 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 + risk 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>pirogue</i> + 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 mantle-piece ornaments,—the + shell of a <i>lambi</i>. 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 yes, 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. <a href="#linknote-4" + name="linknoteref-4" id="linknoteref-4">[4]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>bonne</i> 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, "<i>Rhalé + bois-canot!</i>"... 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 <i>pouèsson-ououge</i>, the <i>dorades</i>, the <i>volants</i> + (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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>coffre</i>-fish, shaped almost like a + box, of which the lid is represented by an extraordinary conformation of + the jaws;—and the <i>barrique-de-vin</i> ("wine cask"), with round + boneless body, secreting in a curious vesicle a liquor precisely + resembling wine lees;—and the "needle-fish" (<i>aiguille de mer</i>), + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + One whose ideas of the people of Grande Anse had I 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 <i>hommes de + couleur</i> 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 <i>chef-lieu</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + But the best possible occasion on which to observe what my friend the + baker called <i>la belle jeunesse</i>, 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, <i>Vive Monseigneur</i>. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>bonne</i> who + brings your morning cup of coffee, or another as the daughter of a + plantation <i>commandeur</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0023" id="linkimage-0023"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/21-Confirmation.jpg" alt="A Confirmation Procession. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + 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 hills near the village. + </p> + <p> + 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, + Pelee, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... My host showed or explained to me all that he thought might interest a + stranger. He had brought to me a nest of the <i>carouge</i>, 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 (<i>zanoli tè</i> 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 <i>zanoli</i>, little soft oval things + from which the young lizards will perhaps run out alive as fast as you + open the shells; and the <i>matoutou falaise</i>, 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 <i>crabe-c'est-ma-faute</i> (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 <i>zhèbe-moin-misé</i>—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 feel guilty of murder if you break off a leaf. It is called <i>Zhèbe-moin-misé</i>, + 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, "<i>Ess moin amisé moin?</i>" + (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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>rhummerie</i>, + 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 <i>cases-à-vent</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + I had long desired to examine a plantation drum, and see it played upon + under conditions more favorable than the excitement of a holiday <i>caleinda</i> + in the villages, where the amusement is too often terminated by a <i>voum</i> + (general row) or a <i>goumage</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + The old African dances, the <i>caleinda</i> and the <i>bélé</i> (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,—<i>Tambou!</i> being the oath uttered upon + all ordinary occasions of surprise or vexation. But the instrument is + quite as often called <i>ka</i>, because made out of a quarter-barrel, or + <i>quart</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>baboula</i>, <a + href="#linknote-5" name="linknoteref-5" id="linknoteref-5">[5]</a> was of + the same length, but only eight or nine inches in diameter. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>couï</i>, covered with + some kind of skin. It had four strings of silk or catgut, and a very long + neck. The tradition or this African instrument is said to survive in the + modern "<i>banza</i>" (<i>banza nèg Guinée</i>). + </p> + <p> + The skilful player (<i>bel tambouyé</i>) straddles his ka stripped to the + waist, and plays upon it with the finger-tips 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—<i>baill y talon</i>. + 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, <i>b'lip-b'lib-b'lib-b'lip</i>, + do not fully render the roll;—for each <i>b'lip</i> or <i>b'lib</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>tambouyé</i>. + The same <i>commandè</i> 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.... "<i>Aïe, aïe, yaïe! mon chè!—y + fai tambou-à pàlé!</i>" 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—<i>aïe, + aïe, yaïe!</i> Then he got off that ka, mounted it; I thought a moment; + then I struck up the 'River-of-the-Lizard,'—<i>mais, mon chè, yon + larivie-Léza toutt pi!</i>—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!" + </p> + <p> + During some dances a sort of chant accompanies the music—a long + sonorous cry, uttered at intervals of seven eight seconds, which perfectly + times a particular measure in the drum roll. It may be the burden of a + song: a mere improvisation: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "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. +</pre> + <p> + ... The <i>crieur</i>, 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 oyerheated by tafia—the + mock fight may become a real one; and then even cutlasses are brought into + play. + </p> + <p> + But in the old days, those improvisations which gave one form of dance its + name, <i>bélé</i> (from the French <i>bel air</i>), 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Toutt fois lanmou vini lacase moin + Pou pàlé moin, moin ka reponne: + "Khé moin deja placé," + Moin ka crié, "Secou! les voisinages!" + Moin ka crié, "Secou! la gàde royale!" + Moin ka crié, "Secou! la gendàmerie! + Lanmou pouend yon poignâ pou poignadé moin!" +</pre> + <p> + The best part of the composition, which is quite long, might be rendered + as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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, <i>la Garde Royale!</i>" + 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. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0024" id="linkimage-0024"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/22-Playing_the_Ka.jpg" alt="Manner of Playing the Ka " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The stars were all out when I bid my host good-bye;—he sent his lack + servant along with me to carry a lantern and keep a sharp watch for snakes + along the mountain road. + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 leafy 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 sunsets,...only the ocean roaring forever over its + beach of black sand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — UN REVENANT + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + He who first gave to Martinique its poetical name, <i>Le Pays des + Revenants</i>, thought of his wonderful island only as "The Country of + Comers-back," where Nature'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 <i>Habitation + Dillon</i>, 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 Aimeé + 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 Daney'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 <i>anse</i> before the vessel's + approach, recalls them to a creole companion. + </p> + <p> + 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 naive 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>temps coudvent Missié Bon</i> + (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 <i>coudvent Missié Bon</i>. 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 <i>temps coudvent Missié Bon</i>. + </p> + <p> + ... "<i>Temps coudvent Missié Bon, moin té ka tété encò</i>" (I was a + child at the breast in the time of the big wind of Missié Bon); or "<i>Temps + coudvent Missié Bon, moin té toutt piti manmaill,—moin ka souvini y + pouend caiie manman moin pòté allé.</i>" (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 <i>coudvent</i>. + </p> + <p> + But all 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 (<i>Bon-Dié</i>) 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. + </p> + <p> + It was not without considerable research that I suceeded 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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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." + </p> + <p> + ... "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." <a href="#linknote-6" name="linknoteref-6" + id="linknoteref-6">[6]</a> + </p> + <p> + "But did Monsieur Bon ever do anything to deserve the reputation he has + left among the people?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Ah! le pauvre vieux corps</i>!... 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!" + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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; the 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: + </p> + <p> + "<i>Moin ka couè c'est fanal Pè Labatt!</i>" (I believe it is the lantern + of Perè Labat.) + </p> + <p> + "Does he live there?" I innocently inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Live there?—why he has been dead hundreds of years!... <i>Ouill!</i> + you never heard of Pè Labatt?"... + </p> + <p> + "Not the same who wrote a book about Martinique?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes,—himself.... They say he comes back at night. Ask mother about + him;—she knows."... + </p> + <p> + ...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. + </p> + <p> + "Whether you really saw Pè Labatt's lantern," said old Thereza, "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. + </p> + <p> + "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. + </p> + <p> + "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 clear 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. + </p> + <p> + "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: '<i>Mi! moin ké fai Pè Labatt vini pouend ou,—oui!</i>' + (I will make Pè Labatt come and take you away.)".... + </p> + <p> + 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 Dutertre, + another Dominican missionary and historian, who wrote his book,—a + queer book in old French, <a href="#linknote-7" name="linknoteref-7" + id="linknoteref-7">[7]</a> —before Labat was born. + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Eh! ti manmaille-là, moin ké + fai Pè Labatt vini pouend ou!</i>—is an exclamation often heard in + the vicinity of ajoupas just about the hour when all found a good little + children ought to be in bed and asleep. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. Perè 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, "<i>C'est pè toutt + sépent qui té ka mòdé moin</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Ou pa pè suive ti limié-là piess!</i>" 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. <a href="#linknote-8" name="linknoteref-8" + id="linknoteref-8">[8]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>boutique-lapacotte</i> (a little booth where cooked food is + sold) near the precipitous Street of the Friendships. + </p> + <p> + ... "<i>Ah! Pè Labatt, oui!</i>" 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 <i>coup d'langue</i> + (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 shoe and he shook the dust of his + shoe upon that quay, and he said: 'I curse you, 0 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.'" + <a href="#linknote-9" name="linknoteref-9" id="linknoteref-9">[9]</a> + </p> + <p> + "And then what happened, Manm-Robert?" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Eh! fouinq! chè</i>, 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 (<i>indiennes</i>) 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,—<i>Les Colonies, La + Defense Coloniale</i>,—you will find that there are sons wicked + enough to beat their mothers: <i>oui! yche ka batt manman!</i> It is the + malediction of Pè Labatt." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... "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." + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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 encyclopedias answer the question, but far less fully and + less interestingly than Dr. Rufz, the Martinique historian, whose article + upon him in the <i>Etudes Statistiques et Historiques</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 judgement 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 role-building + bastions, scarps, counterterscarps, 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?" (<i>Père Blanc, ont-ils porté?</i>) 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!"... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 medieval 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>mal de Siam</i>), 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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 churches, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... It was inevitable that such a man should make bitter enemies: his + preferences, his position, his activity, his business shrewdness, his + necessary self-assertion, yet must have created secret hate and jealousy + even when open malevolence might not dare to show itself. And to the 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, but where any public mention of a family scandal is never + just 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 <i>Archives de la Marine</i>, found there a + ministerial letter to the Intendant de Vaucresson in which this statement + occurs;— + </p> + <p> + ... "Le Père Labat shall never be suffered to return to the colonies, + whatever efforts he may make to obtain permission." + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + One rises from the perusal of the "Nouveau Voyage aux Isles de l'Amêrique" + 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 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." <a href="#linknote-10" + name="linknoteref-10" id="linknoteref-10">[10]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>diablotin</i> (a now almost extinct species of West + Indian nocturnal bird) were fish 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). + </p> + <p> + 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 <a + href="#linknote-11" name="linknoteref-11" id="linknoteref-11">[11]</a> 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 fat in the season when the guavas are ripe; and when they eat + the seeds of the <i>Bois d'Inde</i> they have an odor of nutmeg and cloves + which is delightful (<i>une odeur de muscade et de girofle qui fait + plaisir</i>)." 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" (<i>de les écorcher + tout en vie</i>).... "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 (<i>une tendreté admirable</i>)." 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + "I know there are many people who consider as pure imagination, and as + silly stories, or positive false-hoods, 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."... + </p> + <p> + Therewith he begins to relate stories 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 Rain-maker, 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 on + 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 Fraise, Père Rosié, Père Temple, and Père Bournot,—all + members of his own order,—as trust-worthy witnesses of this + incident. + </p> + <p> + 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 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 + capttain 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 all + ashore, and sailed away without further trouble. + </p> + <p> + Another story of African sorcery for the truth of which Père Labat + earnestly vouches is the following: + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 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. + </p> + <p> + "I had him given," he calmly observes, "about (<i>environ</i>) three + hundred lashes, which flayed him (<i>l'écorchait</i>) 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 <i>pimentade</i>,—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."... + </p> + <p> + 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, were + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>moudongue</i>, + <a href="#linknote-12" name="linknoteref-12" id="linknoteref-12">[12]</a> + almost as tough, but much lighter than, our hickory. + </p> + <p> + 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, <i>and through any thickness of clothing</i>, + would produce terrible and continuous pain. + </p> + <p> + Believing in these things, and withal unable to decide whether the sun + revolved about the earth, or the earth about the sun, <a + href="#linknote-13" name="linknoteref-13" id="linknoteref-13">[13]</a> + 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 goblins.... "<i>Mi! ti manmaille-là, + moin ké fai Pè Labatt vini pouend ou!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Even after a prolonged residence in Martinique, its visible religious + condition continues to impress one as somethmg 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 <i>chapelle</i>: + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0025" id="linkimage-0025"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/23-Wayside_Shrine.jpg" + alt="A Wayside Shrine, Or Chapelle. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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 + mediaevalism 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 aesthetic 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. + </p> + <p> + 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):— + </p> + <p> + "<i>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>" (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.) + </p> + <p> + 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, flung 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 <i>békés</i>. + </p> + <p> + "Rather a severe sentence," I remarked to my informant, a planter who + conducted me to the scene of the alleged sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + "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."... + </p> + <p> + 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 only of 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 wittness + 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 <i>quimboiseur</i>), 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 + "<i>magnetise</i>." He finds use for both beliefs, but gives large + preference to the savage one,—just as he prefers the pattering of + his tam tam to the music of the military band at the <i>Savane du Fort</i>.... + 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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>grains de + bois d'Inde</i> and guavas,—"<i>l'odeur de muscade et de girofle qui + fait plaisir</i>."... + </p> + <p> + Eh, <i>Père Labat</i>!—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 and 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" (<i>yon diabe</i>),—cric-crac!—cric-crac!—all + chanting together;— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Soh-soh!—yaïe-yah! + Rhâlé bois-canot!</i>" +</pre> + <p> + 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... "<i>Mi fanal Pè Labatt!—mi Pè + Labatt ka vini pouend ou!</i>" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — LA GUIABLESSE. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Me</i>: it is an Individual (with a capital I); it is a + Being (with a capital B). + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>malefice</i> 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 <i>Soucouyan.</i> But the ghastly being who doffs or + dons his skin at will—and the Zombi—and the <i>Moun-Mò</i>—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 <i>Silence</i>.... + Tropical night is full of voices;—extraordinary populations of + crickets are trilling; nations of tree-frogs are chanting; the <i>Cabri-des-bois</i>, + <a href="#linknote-14" name="linknoteref-14" id="linknoteref-14">[14]</a> + or <i>cra-cra</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + And it is partly, perhaps, because of these conditions that the coming of + the dawn does not dissipate all fears of the supernatural. <i>I ni pè + zombi mênm gran'-jou</i> (he is afraid of ghosts even in broad daylight) + is a phrase which does not sound exaggerated in these latitudes,—not, + at least, to anyone 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>tim-tim</i>. Adou knows all about + ghosts, and believes in them. So does Adou's extraordinarily tall brother, + Yébé,—my guide among the mountains. + </p> + <p> + —"Adou," I ask, "what is a zombi?" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Moin pa té janmain ouè zombi,—pa 'lè ouè ça, moin!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"But, Adou, child, I did not ask you whether you ever saw It;—I + asked you only to tell me what It is like?"... + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Adou hesitates a little, and answers: + —"<i>Zombi? Mais ça fai désòde lanuitt, zombi!</i>" +</pre> + <p> + 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 + <i>one who comes back?</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Non, Missié,—non; çé pa ca.</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"Not that?... Then what was it you said the other night when you + were afraid to pass the cemetery on an errand,—<i>ça ou té ka di</i>, + Adou?" + </p> + <p> + —"Moin té ka di: 'Moin pa lé k'allé bò cimétiè-là pa ouappò moun-mò;—moun-mò + ké barré moin: moin pa sé pè vini enco.'" (<i>I said, "I do not want to go + by that cemetery because of the dead folk,—the dead folk will bar + the way, and I cannot get back again.</i>") + </p> + <p> + —"And you believe that, Adou?" + </p> + <p> + —"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—<i>moun-mò + ké barré ou.</i>"... + </p> + <p> + —"But are the dead folk zombis, Adou?" + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + —"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?"... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah! pa pàlé ça!!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + —"No! tell me, Adou?" + </p> + <p> + —"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: '<i>Mi Zombi!</i>'" + </p> + <p> + ... Then it suddenly occurs to Adou that her mother knows something about + zombis. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou Manman!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Eti!</i>" 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Missié-là ka mandé save ça ça yé yonne zombi;—vini ti + bouin!</i>"... The mother laughs, abandons her canari, and comes in to + tell me all she knows about the weird word. + </p> + <p> + "<i>I ni pè zombi</i>"—I find from old Thereza'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 <i>with only three legs</i> passes + you: that is a zombi.) + </p> + <p> + —"How big is the fire that the zombi makes?" I ask. + </p> + <p> + —"It fills the whole road," answers Théréza: "<i>li ka rempli toutt + chimin-là</i>. Folk call those fires the Evil Fires,—<i>mauvai difé</i>;—and + if you follow them they will lead you into chasms,—<i>ou ké tombé + adans labîme</i>."... + </p> + <p> + And then she tells me this: + </p> + <p> + —"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,—<i>çe zhistouè veritabe!</i> + </p> + <p> + "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 embeté moin conm ça!—ou bien + fou!'... But he tormented her that way for months and for years. + </p> + <p> + "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:— + </p> + <p> + "'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!] + </p> + <p> + "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!] + </p> + <p> + "And the sister threw open the shutters and screamed to all the neighbors,—'<i>Sécou, + sécou, sécou! Vini oué ça Baidaux mené ba moin!</i>' [Help! help! Come see + what Baidaux has brought in here!] And the child said to Baidaux: '<i>Ou + ni bonhè ou fou!</i>' [You are lucky that you are mad!]... Then all the + neighbors came running in; but they could not see anything: the Zombi was + gone."... + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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: on 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 wa manicou, or a zanoli or couresse,—more + often, however, no harmless lizard or snake, but the deadly <i>fer-de-lance</i>. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>feel</i>, 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 "bon-jou'" 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 her coming. He looks a moment, turns + to the hut and calls:— + </p> + <p> + —"Ou-ou! Fafa!" + </p> + <p> + —"Étí! Gabou!" + </p> + <p> + —"Vini ti bouin!—mi bel negresse!" + </p> + <p> + Out rushes Fafa, with his huge straw hat in his hand: "Oti, Gabou?" + </p> + <p> + —"Mi!" + </p> + <p> + —"'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. + </p> + <p> + 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 conm couresse qui ka passélariviè" (<i>You walk with + your head in the air, like the couresse-serpent swimming a river</i>) 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 <i>robe—d'indienne</i>.... 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.... + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + ... She approaches the ajoupa: both men remove their big straw hats; and + both salute her with a simultaneous "Bonjou', Manzell." + </p> + <p> + —"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. + </p> + <p> + —"Ça ka fai moin pè," exclaims Gabou, turning his face towards the + ajoupa. Something indefinable in the gaze of the stranger has terrified + him. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pa ka fai moin pè—fouinq!</i>" (She does not make me + afraid) laughs Fafa, boldly following her with a smiling swagger. + </p> + <p> + —"Fafa!" cries Gabou, in alarm. "<i>Fafa, pa fai ça!</i>" But Fafa + does not heed. The strange woman has slackened her pace, as if inviting + pursuit;—another moment and he is at her side. + </p> + <p> + —"Oti ou ka rêté, che?" he demands, with the boldness of one who + knows himself a fine specimen of his race. + </p> + <p> + —"Zaffai cabritt pa zaffai lapin," she answers, mockingly. + </p> + <p> + —"Mais pouki au rhabillé toutt nouè conm ça." + </p> + <p> + —"Moin pòté deil pou name main mò." + </p> + <p> + —"Aïe ya yaïe!... Non, vouè!—ça ou kallé atouèlement?" + </p> + <p> + —"Lanmou pàti: moin pàti deïé lanmou." + </p> + <p> + —"Ho!—on ni guêpe, anh?" + </p> + <p> + —"Zanoli bail yon bal; épi maboya rentré ladans." + </p> + <p> + —"Di moin oti ou kallé, doudoux?" + </p> + <p> + —"Jouq lariviè Lezà." + </p> + <p> + —"Fouinq!—ni plis passé trente kilomett!" + </p> + <p> + —"Eh ben?—ess ou 'lè vini épi moin?" <a href="#linknote-15" + name="linknoteref-15" id="linknoteref-15">[15]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>siffleur-de-montagne</i>, + 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—(<i>Ouill!</i> + 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 <i>ouklé</i>, 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: + </p> + <p> + —"Oui;—moin ké vini épi ou." + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>ouklé</i>. + </p> + <p> + —"Coument yo ka crié ou, chè" asks Fafa, curious to know her name. + </p> + <p> + —"Châché nom moin ou-menm, duviné." + </p> + <p> + But Fafa never was a good guesser,—never could guess the simplest of + tim-tim. + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Cendrine?" + </p> + <p> + —"Non, çe pa ça." + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Vitaline?" + </p> + <p> + —"Non çé pa ça." + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Aza?" + </p> + <p> + —"Non, çé pa ça." + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Nini?" + </p> + <p> + —"Châché encò." + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Tité" + </p> + <p> + —"Ou pa save,—tant pis pou ou!" + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Youma?" + </p> + <p> + —"Pouki ou 'lè save nom moin?—ça ou ké épi y?" + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Yaiya?" + </p> + <p> + —"Non, çé pa y." + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Maiyotte?" + </p> + <p> + —"Non! ou pa ké janmain trouvé y!" + </p> + <p> + —"Ess Sounoune?—ess Loulouze?" + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "À te—moin ka dòmi toute longue; + Yon paillasse sé fai main bien, Doudoux! + À te—moin ka dòmi toute longue; + Yon robe biésé sé fai moin bien, + Doudoux! + + À te—moin ka dòmi toute longue; + Dè jolis foulà sé fai moin bien, + Doudoux! + + À te—moin ka dòmi toute longue; + Yon joli madras sé fai moin bien, + Doudoux! + + À te—moin ka dòmi toute longue: Çe à tè..." +</pre> + <p> + ... 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 her silent respiration, + reveal no effort: she laughs at his desperate straining to remain by her + side. + </p> + <p> + —"Marché toujou' deïé moin,—anh, chè?—marché toujou' + deïé!"... + </p> + <p> + And the involuntary laggard—utterly bewitched by 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He has seen the sign by which She is known... + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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, <i>keeping her eyes + fixed upon the Sun!</i>... + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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 + scoriae,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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? + </p> + <p> + —"Oti ou kallé la?" he cries. + </p> + <p> + —"Mais conm ça!—chimin tala plis cou't,—coument?" + </p> + <p> + It may be the shortest route, indeed;—but then, the fer-de-lance!... + </p> + <p> + —"Ni sèpent ciya,—en pile." + </p> + <p> + No: there is not a single one, she avers; she has taken that path too + often not to know: + </p> + <p> + —"Pa ni sèpent piess! Moin ni coutime passé là;—pa ni piess!" + </p> + <p> + ... 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"Oti ou?—moin pa pè ouè arien!" + </p> + <p> + Forked pending ends of creepers trail cold across his face. Huge + fire-flies sparkle by,—like atoms of kindled charcoal thinkling, + blown by a wind. + </p> + <p> + —"Içitt!—quimbé lanmain-moin!"... + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>cabritt-bois</i> begins + its chant. They reach the summit of the morne under the clear sky. + </p> + <p> + 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?... + </p> + <p> + Her face is in the darkness as she stands;—Fafa's eyes turned to the + iron-crimson of the western sky. He still holds her hand, fondles it,—murmurs + something to her in undertones. + </p> + <p> + —"Ess ou ainmein moin conm ça?" she asks, almost in a whisper, + </p> + <p> + Oh! yes, yes, yes!... more than any living being he loves her!... How + much? Ever so much,—<i>gouôs conm caze!</i>... Yet she seems to + doubt him,—repeating her questionn over and over: + </p> + <p> + —"Ess ou ainmein moin?" + </p> + <p> + And all the while,—gently, caressingly, imperceptibly—she + draws him a little nearer to the side of the nearer to the black waving of + the ferns, nearer to the great dull rushing sound that rises from beyond + them: + </p> + <p> + —"Ess ou ainmein moin?" + </p> + <p> + —"Oui, oui!" he responds,—"ou save ça!—oui, chè doudoux, + ou save ça!"... + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Atò, bô!</i>" <a href="#linknote-16" name="linknoteref-16" + id="linknoteref-16">[16]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — LA VÉRETTE. + </h2> + <p> + I. —ST. PIERRE, <i>1887</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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 Mirail; 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>yon màchanne lapacotte</i>, 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—<i>diri + épi coubouyon lamori</i>), 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 anyone 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 medicinal herbs, which she gathers + herself upon the mornes. But for these services she never accepts any + reuneration: she is a sort of Mother of the poor in 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 + anyybody is afraid of being bewitched (<i>quimboisé</i>) Manm-Robert can + furnish him or her with something that will keep the bewitchment away.... + </p> + <p> + II. <i>February 15th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... Ash-Wednesday. The last masquerade will appear this afternoon, + notwithstanding; for the Carnival is in Martinique a day longer than + elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + 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,—<i>La Vérette</i>: she came by + steamer from Colon. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + ... Three o'clock, hot and clear.... In the distance there is a heavy + sound of drums, always drawing nearer: <i>tam!—tam!—tamtamtam!</i> + The Grande Rue is lined with expectant multitudes; and its tiny square,—the + Batterie d'Esnotz,—thronged with békés. <i>Tam!—tam!—tamtamtam!</i>... + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Oti masque-à?</i>" Where are the maskers? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 everyone 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 <i>fleur-d'amour</i> 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..... + </p> + <p> + ... 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 douillette + 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.... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Vini ouè!—vini ouè!</i>" cry the children to one another,—"come + and see!" The drums are drawing near;—everybody is running to the + Grande Rue.... + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + <i>Tam!—tam!—tamtamtam!</i>... 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 <i>degringolade</i> 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 <i>Sans-souci</i> + and the <i>Intrépides</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0026" id="linkimage-0026"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/24-Victor_Hugo.jpg" + alt="Rue Victor Hugo (formerly Grande Rue), St. Pierre " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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:—"<i>Cambronne, Cambronne</i>;" or "<i>Ti fenm-là doux, li + doux, li doux!</i> "... "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.... "<i>Moin connaitt ou, chè!—moin + connaitt ou, doudoux! ba moin ti d'mi franc!</i>" 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. From 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 <i>Sans-souci</i> strikes up the melody + of the latest French song in vogue,—<i>Petits amoureux aux plumes</i> + ("Little feathered lovers"). <a href="#linknote-17" name="linknoteref-17" + id="linknoteref-17">[17]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. "<i>Ah!</i>" cries one,—"<i>nou + ké bien amieusé nou!—c'est zaffai si nou mò!</i>" [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 + <i>verrettier</i>. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + ... The costumes are rather disappointing,-though the mummery has some + general characteristics that are not unpicturesquel—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, Dominican, 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 <i>congo</i>, + the <i>bébé</i> (or <i>ti-manmaille</i>), the <i>ti nègue gouos-sirop</i> + ("little molasses-negro"); and the <i>diablesse</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>mouchoirs fatas</i>), 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 + Iuugh material, blue canvas pantaloons, a large mouchoir fatas to tie + around his waist, and a <i>chapeau Bacoué</i>,—an enormous hat of + Martinique palm-straw. He walks barefooted and carries a cutlass. + </p> + <p> + The sight of a troupe of young girls <i>en bébé</i>, in baby-dress, is + really pretty. This costume comprises only a loose embroidered chemise, + lace-edged pantalettes, and a child's cap; the whole being decorated with + bright ribbbons 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>devilesses</i> (<i>diablesses</i>) 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 <i>boms</i> (large tin cans), which they allow to fall upon the + pavement and from time to time; and they walk barefoot.... The deviless + (in true Bitaco idiom, "<i>guiablesse</i>") 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, "<i>Y té ka ouè la Guiablesse!</i>"... The + tallest among the devilesses always walks first, chanting the question, "<i>Fou + ouvè?</i>" (Is it yet daybreak?) And all the others reply in chorus, "<i>Jou + pa'ncò ouvè</i>." (It is not yet day.) + </p> + <p> + —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 disguise the wearer absolutely, although + they can be through perfectly well from within. It struck me 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,—it + lies on the face like a vapor, like a cloud,—creating the idea of a + spectral vacuity behind it.... + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + ... Now comes the band of the <i>Intrépides</i>, playing the <i>bouèné</i>. + It is a dance melody,—also the name of a <i>mode</i> 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"It is not modest. Nevertheless, it has not failed to become so + popular with the Spanish Creoles of America, 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, 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 + manifested by these good souls for the birth of the Saviour."... <a + href="#linknote-18" name="linknoteref-18" id="linknoteref-18">[18]</a> + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>bois-bois laverette</i>,—a manikin that was + to represent the plague. But this bois-bois does not make its appearance. + <i>La Verette</i> is too terrible a visitor to be made fun of, my friends;—you + will not laugh at her, because you dare not.... + </p> + <p> + No: there is one who has the courage,—a yellow goblin crying from + behind his wire mask, in imitation of the màchannes: "<i>Ça qui lè quatòze + graines laverette pou yon sou?</i>" (Who wants to buy fourteen + verette-spots for a sou?) + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>quatorze + graines</i>, 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!... + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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, comes a priest in his vestments, preceded by an acolyte who + rings a little bell. <i>C'est Bon-Dié ka passé!</i> ("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-Die. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + —"Bimbolo!" + </p> + <p> + —"Zimabolo!" + </p> + <p> + —"Bimbolo!" + </p> + <p> + —"Zimabolo!" + </p> + <p> + —"Et zimbolo!" + </p> + <p> + —"Et bolo-po!" + </p> + <p> + —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.... + <i>Ti manmaille-là, baill moin lavoix!</i> ("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:—"<i>Ti manmaille-là, + baill moin lavoix!</i>"... Then he halts before a dwelling in the Rue + Peysette, and thunders:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Eh! Marie-sans-dent!—Mi! diabe-là derhò!</i>" + </p> + <p> + That is evidently a piece of spite-work: there is somebody living there + against whom he has a grudge.... + </p> + <p> + "<i>Hey! Marie-without-teeth! look! the Devil is outside!</i>" + </p> + <p> + And the chorus catch the clue. + </p> + <p> + DEVIL.—"<i>Eh! Marie-sans-dent!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + CHORUS.—"<i>Marie-sans-dent! mi!—diabe-là derhò!</i>" + </p> + <p> + D.—"<i>Eh! Marie-sans-dent!</i>"'... + </p> + <p> + C.—"<i>Marie-sans-dent! mi!—diabe-à derhò!</i>" + </p> + <p> + D.—"<i>Eh! Marie-sans-dent!</i>"... etc. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0027" id="linkimage-0027"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/25-Fort_St_Pierrre.jpg" + alt="Quarter of the Fort, St. Pierre (overlooking The Rivière Roxelane). " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The Devil at last descends to the main street, always singing the same + song;—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:— + </p> + <p> + DEVIL.—"<i>Oti ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?</i>" (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:—"<i>Oti + ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?</i>" + </p> + <p> + DEVIL.—"<i>Oti ouè diabe?</i>"... + </p> + <p> + CHORUS.—"<i>Oti ouè diabe-là passé lariviè?</i>" + </p> + <p> + D.—"<i>Oti ouè diabe?</i>" + </p> + <p> + C,—"<i>Oti ouè diabe-làp passé lariviè?</i>" + </p> + <p> + D,-"<i>Oti ouè diabe?</i>...etc. + </p> + <p> + 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!" (<i>Diabe épi zombi ka dòmi tout-pàtout</i>.) + The voices of the boys are still clear, shrill, fresh,—clear as a + chant of frogs;—they still clap hanwith a precision of rhythm that + is simply wonderful,—making each time a sound almost exactly like + the bursting of a heavy wave:— + </p> + <p> + DEVIL.—"<i>Diable épi zombi</i>."... + </p> + <p> + CHORUS.—"<i>Diable épi zombi ka d'omi tout-pàtout!</i>" + </p> + <p> + D.—"<i>Diable épi zombi</i>." + </p> + <p> + C.—"<i>Diable épi zombi ka dòmi tout-pàtout!</i>" + </p> + <p> + D.—"<i>Diable épi zombi</i>."...etc. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>crescendo</i> 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 <i>raifales</i> of contralto.... + </p> + <p> + XI. <i>February 17th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... Yzore is a <i>calendeuse</i>. + </p> + <p> + 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" (<i>calendé</i>) 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" (<i>marré yon tête</i>); + and a prettily folded turban is spoken of as "a head well tied" (<i>yon + tête bien marré</i>).... However, the profession of calendeuse is far from + being a lucrative one: it is two or three days' work to calender a single + Madras well.... + </p> + <p> + But Yzore does not depend upon calendering alone for a living: she earns + much more by the manufacture of <i>moresques</i> and of <i>chinoises</i> + 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 (<i>indienne</i>),—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: <i>corps écrasé</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + XII. <i>February 22d.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... Old physicians indeed predicted it; but who believed them?... + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. <a + href="#linknote-19" name="linknoteref-19" id="linknoteref-19">[19]</a> + </p> + <p> + XIII. <i>February 23d.</i> + </p> + <p> + A Coffin passes, balanced on the heads of black men. It holds the body of + Pascaline Z——, covered with quick-lime. + </p> + <p> + She was the prettiest, assuredly, among the pretty shopgirls of the Grande + Rue,—a rare type of <i>sang-mêlée</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Here the sick are wrapped in banana leaves, after having been smeared + with a certain unguent.... 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. + </p> + <p> + XIV. <i>February 29th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... The whites remain exempt from the malady. + </p> + <p> + One might therefore hastily suppose that liability of 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 <i>mamelouc</i>;—or 122 to 4, as in the <i>quarteronné</i> + (not to be confounded with the <i>quarteron</i> or quadroon);—or + even 127 to 1, as in the <i>sang-mêlé</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + XV. <i>March 5th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "<i>Pauv' ti Lélé, + Pauv' ti Lélé! + Li gagnin doulè, doulè, doulè,— + Li gagnin doulè Tout-pàtout!</i>" +</pre> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + More pleasant it is to hear the chatting of Yzore's childlren across the + way, after the sun has set, and the stars come out.... Gabrielle always + wants to know what the stars are:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ça qui ka clairé conm ça, manman?</i>" (What is it shines like + that?) + </p> + <p> + And Yzore answers:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ça, mafi,—c'est ti limiè Bon-Dié.</i>" (Those are the + little lights of the Good-God.) + </p> + <p> + —"It is so pretty,—eh, mamma? I want to count them." + </p> + <p> + —"You cannot count them, child." + </p> + <p> + —"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven." Gabrielle can only count up to + seven. "<i>Moin peide!</i>—I am lost, mamma!" + </p> + <p> + The moon comes up;—she cries:—"<i>Mi! manman!—gàdé gouôs + difé qui adans ciel-à!</i> Look at the great fire in the sky." + </p> + <p> + —"It is the Moon, child!... Don't you see St. Joseph in it, carrying + a bundle of wood?" + </p> + <p> + —"Yes, mamma! I see him!... A great big bundle of wood!"... + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + "Pretty Moon, I show you my little money;—now let me always have + money so long as you shine!" <a href="#linknote-20" name="linknoteref-20" + id="linknoteref-20">[20]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + "Ange-gardien Veillez sur moi; * * * * Ayez pitié de ma faiblesse; + Couchez-vous sur mon petit lit; Suivez-moi sans cesse."... <a + href="#linknote-21" name="linknoteref-21" id="linknoteref-21">[21]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Zange-gàdien, c'est yon jeine fi, toutt bel</i>." (The + guardian-angel is a young girl, all beautiful.) + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + XVI. <i>March 6th</i> + </p> + <p> + 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, + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ça ça ye, Manm-Robert?</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pou empêché ou pouend laverette</i>," she answers. It to keep + me from catching the <i>verette</i>!... And what is inside it? + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toua graines maïs, épi dicamfre</i>." (Three grains of corn, + with a bit of camphor!)... + </p> + <p> + XVII. <i>March 8th</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 en represent more than a mere + derangement in the mechanism of domestic life. The creole <i>bonne</i> + 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 (<i>paillasse</i>) on the floor, or perhaps upon a paillasse + supported upon an "elephant" (<i>lèfan</i>)—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 house-hold, 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 <i>familia</i>, actually became a member + of it. + </p> + <p> + XVIII. <i>March 10th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 "<i>bouts</i>." + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Assise!</i>" says Manm-Robert, handing me her own hair;—she + is always pleased to see me, pleased to chat lith me about creole + folk-lore. Then observing, a smile exchanged between myself and Mimi, she + tells the children to bid me good-day:—"<i>Alle di bonjou' Missié-a!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Missié, oti masque-à?</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Y ben fou, pouloss!</i>" the mother cries out;—"Why, the + child must be going out of her senses!... <i>Mimi pa 'mbêté moune conm ça!—pa + ni piess masque: c'est la-vérette qui ni</i>." (Don't annoy people like + that!—there are no maskers now; there is nothing but the verette!) + </p> + <p> + [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.]... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt lanuite y k'anni rêvé masque-à</i>," continues Yzore.... + I am curious to know what Mimi's dreams are like;—wonder if I can + coax her to tell me.... + </p> + <p> + XIX. + </p> + <p> + ... I have written Mimi's last dream from the child's dictation:— <a + href="#linknote-22" name="linknoteref-22" id="linknoteref-22">[22]</a> + </p> + <p> + —"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."... + </p> + <p> + ... "And why were you so afraid of them, Mimi?" I ask. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pace yo té toutt vide endedans!</i>" answers Mimi. (<i>Because + they were all hollow inside</i>!) + </p> + <p> + XX. <i>March 19th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>lazaretto</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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).... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + XXI. <i>March 20th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + pest-house 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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 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,—forget everything but sense of that which they hold + to be duty. You see young girls of remarkably elegant presence,—young + colored girls well educated and <i>élevées-en-chapeau</i> <a + href="#linknote-23" name="linknoteref-23" id="linknoteref-23">[23]</a> + (that is 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);—"<i>Ah! quand il s'agit du devoir, la + vie ou la mort c'est pour moi la même chose</i>." + </p> + <p> + ... 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 same thing," or ought to be so considered,—you + can readily imagine how soon the city must become one vast hospital. + </p> + <p> + XXII. + </p> + <p> + ... By nine o'clock, as a general rule, St. Pierre becomes silent: + everyone 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Then I observe a colored child standing bare-footed 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ti manmaille-là!—tiré lanmain-ou assous tête-ou, foute! + pisse moin encò là!... Espéré moin allé lazarett avant metté lanmain conm + ça!</i>" (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!) + </p> + <p> + For it was the savage, natural, primitive gesture of mourning,—of + great despair. + </p> + <p> + ... Then all begin to compare their misfortunes, to relate their miseries;—they + say grotesque things,—even make jests about their troubles. One + declares:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Si moin té ka venne chapeau, à fòce moin ni malhè, toutt manman + sé fai yche yo sans tête.</i>" (I have that ill-luck, that if I were + selling hats all the mothers would have children without heads!) + </p> + <p> + —Those who sit at their doors, I observe, do not sit, a rule, upon + the steps, even when these are of wood. There is a superstition which + checks such a practice. "<i>Si ou assise assous pas-lapòte, ou ké pouend + doulè toutt moune</i>." (If you sit upon the door-step, you will take the + pain of all who pass by.) + </p> + <p> + XXIII. <i>March 30th.</i> + </p> + <p> + Good Friday.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + You will not perceive a single gaudy robe to-day, a single calendered + Madras: not a speck of showy color visible through all the ways of St. + Pierre. The costumes donned are all similar to those worn for the death + 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 winndow 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Three o'clock. Three cannon-shots shake the hill: 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 grow up vicious,—become a shame to the + family and a curse to the parents,—it is observed of such:—"<i>Ça, + c'est yon péché Vendredi-Saint!</i>" (Must be a <i>Good-Friday sin!</i>) + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + XXIV. <i>March 31st.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>Gloria!</i>... 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. + </p> + <p> + But there are twenty-seven burials. Now they are ring the dead two + together: the cemeteries are over-burdened.... + </p> + <p> + XXV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 out-stretched leg to the tip of its opposite fellow, as + they cling to the wall. I never heard of anyone 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 + door-way quite a host of these monster insects. Manm-Robert is quite + dismayed:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Fesis-Maïa!</i>—ou 'lè malhè encò pou fai ça, chè?" (You + want to have still more bad luck, that you do such a thing?) + </p> + <p> + And Yzore answers:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt moune içitt pa ni yon sou!—gouôs conm ça fil + zagrignin, et moin pa menm mangé! Epi laverette encò.... Moin couè toutt + ça ka pòté malhè!</i>" (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.) + </p> + <p> + —"Ah! you have not eaten yet!" cries Manm-Robert. "<i>Vini épi moin!</i>" + (Come with me!) + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Moin pa tchoué yo; moin chassé yo—ké vini + encò</i>." (I did not kill them; I only put them out;—they will come + back again.) + </p> + <p> + But long afterwards, Manm-Robert remarked to me that they never went + back.... + </p> + <p> + XXVI. <i>April 5th.</i> + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt bel bois ka allé</i>," says Manm-Robert. (All the + beautiful trees are going.)... I do not understand. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt bel bois—toutt bel moune ka alle</i>," 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. <i>Yon bel bois</i> may + mean a fine tree: it more generally signifies a graceful woman: this is + the very comparison made by Ulysses looking upon Nausicaa, though more + naively 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, <a href="#linknote-24" name="linknoteref-24" + id="linknoteref-24">[24]</a> who, falling in love with a handsome colored + girl, spent all his father's money in buying her presents and a wedding + outfit:— + </p> + <p> + "Moin descenne Saint-Piè Acheté dobannes Auliè ces dobannes C'est yon <i>bel-bois</i> + moin mennein monté!" + </p> + <p> + ("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") + </p> + <p> + —"Why, who is dead now, Manm-Robert?" + </p> + <p> + —"It is little Marie, the porteuse, who has got the verette. She is + gone to the lazaretto." + </p> + <p> + XXVII. <i>April 7th.</i> + </p> + <p> + —<i>Toutt bel bois ka allé</i>.... News has just come that Ti Marie + died last night at the lazaretto of the Fort: she was attacked by what + they call the <i>lavérette-pouff</i>,—a form of the disease which + strangles its victim within a few hours. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Qui 'lè café?—qui + 'lè sirop?</i>" (Who wants coffee?—who wants syrup?) She looked + about sixteen, but was a mother. "Where is her husband?" I ask. "<i>Nhomme-y + mò laverette 'tou</i>." (Her man died of the verette also.) "And the + little one, her <i>yche</i>?" "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? + </p> + <p> + —"No: she was from Vauclin," answers Manrn-Robert. "You do not often + see pretty red girls who are natives of St. Pierre. St. Pierre has pretty + <i>sang-mêlées</i>. The pretty red girls mostly come from Vauclin. The + yellow ones, who are really <i>bel-bois</i>, are from Grande Anse: they + are banana-colored people there. At Gros-Morne they are generally + black."... + </p> + <p> + XXVIII. + </p> + <p> + ... It appears that the red race here, the <i>race capresse</i>, 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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" (<i>peau-chapoti</i>) is used,—coupled with all + curious creole adjectives to express what is comely,—<i>jojoll, + beaujoll</i>, etc. <a href="#linknote-25" name="linknoteref-25" + id="linknoteref-25">[25]</a> 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.—"<i>Moin pas nouè</i>," she + says;—"<i>moin ouôuge: ou fai moin nouè nans pòtrait-à</i>." (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—<i>nouè + conm poule-zo-nouè</i> ("black as a black-boned hen!") + </p> + <p> + ... And this red race is disappearing from St. Pierre—doubtless also + from other plague-stricken centres. + </p> + <p> + XXIX. <i>April 10th.</i> + </p> + <p> + Manm-Robert is much annoyed and puzzled because the American steamer—the + <i>bom-mangé</i>, as she calls does not come. It used to bring regularly + so many barrels of potatoes and beans, so much lard and cheese 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 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:—"<i>Allé + ouè Batterie d' Esnotz si bom-mangé-à pas vini</i>." But Louis always + returns with same rueful answer:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Manm-Robert, pa ni piess bom-mangé</i>" (there is not so much + as a bit of a <i>bom-mangé</i>). + </p> + <p> + ... "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 delared 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 <i>canotiers</i>, the <i>caboteurs</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... They are burying twenty-five <i>verettiers</i> per day in city. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Atò, mon chè, c'est Yzore qui ni laverette!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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.... <i>Pauv ti manmaille!</i> + </p> + <p> + XXX. <i>April 13th.</i> + </p> + <p> + ... 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 + the 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... Is it in times like these, when all the conditions are febrile, that + one is most apt to have queer dreams? + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>C'est + Bon-Dié ka passé!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + XXXI. <i>April 20th.</i> + </p> + <p> + 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.... All the furniture + is to be sold at auction to 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: <i>yo pa ka pè venne Bon-Dié</i> (the things of + the Good-God must not be sold). And Manm-Robert will take care little + ones. + </p> + <p> + The bed—a relic of former good-fortune,—a great Martinique bed + of carved heavy native wood,—a <i>lit-à-bateau</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + XXXII. <i>April 28th.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>—Tam-tam-tam!—tam-tam-tam!</i>... It is the booming of the + auction-drum from the Place: Yzore's furniture is about to change hands. + </p> + <p> + 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.—<i>Vini + ouè!</i>—they look up and down. But there is a great quiet in the + Rue du Morne Mirail;—the street is empty. + </p> + <p> + ... 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Manm-Robert, oti masque-à?</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toua ti blancs sans lesou!—qutitté moin châché papaou qui + adans cimétiè pou vini pouend ou tou!</i>" (Ye three little penniless + white ones!—let me go call your father, who is in the cemetery, to + come and take you also away!) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — LES BLANCHISSEUSES. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>blanchisseuses</i> 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 still 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 wormen, 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!—Dede!-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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0028" id="linkimage-0028"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/26-Riviere.jpg" alt="Rivière Des Blanchisseuses. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 mulatresses;—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:—"<i>Nou ka mò toutt dleau</i>" + (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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou vini pou pouend yon bain?</i>" (Coming to take a bath?) For + the river is a great bathing-place. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Non; moin vini lavé</i>." (No; I am coming to wash.) + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Aïe! aïe! aïe!—y vini lavé!</i>"... And all within + hearing laughed together. "Are you crazy, girl?—<i>ess ou fou?</i>" + 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, "<i>Non ké lavé + toutt ça ba ou bien vite, chè,—va, amisé ou!</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>bou'geoises</i>), and + have their apprentices beside them,—young girls from twelve to + sixteen years of age. Among these <i>apprenti</i>, as they are called in + the patois, there are many attractive types, such as idlers upon the + bridges like to look at. + </p> + <p> + 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" (<i>frotté</i> in creole);—after + she can do this pretty well, she is taught the curious art of whipping it + (<i>fessé</i>). You can hear the sound of the fesse 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. + </p> + <p> + After this, all the pieces are spread out upon the rocks, in the sun, for + the "first bleaching" (<i>pouèmiè lablanie</i>). In the evening they are + gathered into large wooden trays or baskets, and carried to what is called + the "lye-house" (<i>lacaïe lessive</i>)—overlooking the river from a + point on the fort bank opposite to the higher end of the Savane. There + 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 (<i>coulé</i> 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 (<i>ouvouïyé</i>). + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>maladie-dleau</i>), 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 <i>mabi</i>,—a mild, effervescent, and, I + think, rather disagreeable, beer made from molasses. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + Always before daybreak they rise to work, while the vapors of the mornes + 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 "<i>bonjou', che!</i>" + Idle men stare at some pretty washer, till she points at them and cries:—"<i>Gadé + Missie-à ka guetté nou!—anh!—anh!—anh!</i>" And all the + others look up and repeat the groan—"<i>anh!—anh!—anh!</i>" + 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 main qui té + ka lavé, Passé, raccommodé: Y té néf hè disouè Ou metté moin derhò,—Yche + main assous bouas moin;—Laplie té ka tombé—Léfan moin assous + tête moin! Doudoux, ou m'abandonne! Moin pa ni pèsonne pou soigné moin." + <a href="#linknote-26" name="linknoteref-26" id="linknoteref-26">[26]</a> + </p> + <p> + ... 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:— + </p> + <p> + CHÈ MANMAN MOIN. + </p> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + ... "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."... + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + "0 cursed eyes he praised that led me to him! 0 cursed lips of mine which + ever repeated his name! 0 cursed moment in which I gave up my heart to the + ingrate who no longer knows how to love."... + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + "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!"... + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>toc</i>) is an onomatope for the sound of knocking at a door. + </p> + <p> + "<i>To, to, to!</i>—Ça qui là?'— 'C'est moin-mênme, lanmou;—Ouvé + lapott ba moin!' + </p> + <p> + "<i>To, to, to!</i>—Ça qui là?'— 'C'est moin-mênme lanmou, Qui + ka ba ou khè moin!' + </p> + <p> + "<i>To, to, to!</i>—Ça qui là?'— 'C'est moin-mênme lanmou, + Laplie ka mouillé moin!'" + </p> + <p> + [<i>To-to-to</i>... "Who taps there?"—"'Tis mine own self Love: open + the door for me." <i>To-to-to</i>... "Who taps there?"—"'Tis mine + own self Love, who give my heart to thee." <i>To-to-to</i>... "Who taps + there?"—" "'Tis mine own self Love: open thy door to me;—the + rain is wetting me!"] + </p> + <p> + ... 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." + </p> + <p> + —At mid-day the màchanne-mangé comes, with her girls,—carrying + trays of fried fish, and <i>akras</i>, 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, "<i>Eti! + manman!"—"Sésé!"—"Nenneine!</i>" 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." + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou fèmé lapòte lariviè, chè-anh?</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah! oui, chè!—moin fèmé y, ou tanne?—moin ni + laclé-à!</i>" (Oh yes, dear. I locked it up,—you hear?—I've + got the key!) + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + "Why do they not sing to-day?" I once asked during the summer of 1887, + </p> + <p> + —a year of pestilence. "<i>Yo ka pensé toutt lanmizè yo,—toutt + lapeine yo</i>," 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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;—<i>yo crazé</i>, + as a creole term expresses it,—a term signifying to crush, to bray, + to dash to pieces. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — LA PELÉE. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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 Dutertre, of the Order of + Friars-Preachers. + </p> + <p> + A single glance at the topographical map of Martinique would suffice to + confirm the father's assertion that the country was found to be <i>trop + haché et trop montueux</i>: 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 breadth—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 <i>montagne</i>. These are La Montagne Pelée, in the north, + and La Montagne du Vauclin, in the south. The term <i>morne</i>, 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 <i>pitons</i>, <i>mornes</i>, and <i>monts</i> or <i>montagnes</i>. + 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 coast-lines 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 line 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 <i>montagne</i>... 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." + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>four hundred mountains</i> 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; <a href="#linknote-27" + name="linknoteref-27" id="linknoteref-27">[27]</a> 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 AEtna. + </p> + <p> + —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. <a href="#linknote-28" name="linknoteref-28" + id="linknoteref-28">[28]</a> + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0029" id="linkimage-0029"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/27-La_Pelee.jpg" + alt="Foot of PelÉe, Behind the Quarter Of The Fort. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Huge as the mountain looks from St. Pierre, the eye under-estimates 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 precipitous pitch of its sides. Pelée is + not very remarkable in point of altitude, however: its height was + estimated by Moreau de Jonnes at 1600 metres; and by others at between + 4400 and 4500 feet. The sum of the various imperfect estimates made + justify the opinion of Dr. Cornilliac that the extreme summit is over 5000 + feet above the sea—perhaps 5200. <a href="#linknote-29" + name="linknoteref-29" id="linknoteref-29">[29]</a> 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 (<i>Sugar-loaf Peak</i>), 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 meteorologic 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 + <i>lantchô</i>. 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. <a href="#linknote-30" name="linknoteref-30" + id="linknoteref-30">[30]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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 configuraion 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>La + Souffrière</i>, that rained ashes over the city in 1851. + </p> + <p> + 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: "<i>C'est la + Souffrière qui bout!</i>" (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 Morne 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>Fontaines Chaudes</i>). 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 <i>fromagers</i>, or + silk-cotton trees, various heavy lines of tamarinds, and groups of <i>flamboyants</i> + with thick dark feathery foliage, and cassia-trees with long pods pending + and blackening from every branch, and hedges of <i>campêche</i>, or + logwood, and calabash-trees, and multitudes of the pretty shrubs bearing + the fruit called in creole <i>raisins-bò-lanmè</i>, 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 (<i>Aux + Abymes</i>),—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 <i>Alabama</i> once hid herself, as a fish hides + in the shadow of a rock, and escaped from her pursuer, the <i>Iroquois</i>. + 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 <i>Alabama</i> 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 <i>Iroquois</i> gave chase. The <i>Alabama</i> 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 manreuvre to the <i>Iroquois;</i> but she gained Aux + Abymes, laid herself close to the enormous black cliff, and there remained + indistinguishable; the <i>Iroquois</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + ... 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 (<i>boulevard</i>) 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>La Trace</i>,—the long + route 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 (<i>Trois + Ponts</i>),—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 broad-leaved 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 mornes. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>pommiers-roses</i>. 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 + <i>roseaux d' Inde</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 while 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0030" id="linkimage-0030"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/28-Morne_Rouge.jpg" + alt="Village of Morne Rouge, Martinique " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 (<i>irisées</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + We 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 from 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 <i>hivernage</i>, 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 <i>Saison de la + Sécheresse</i>. 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. <i>Saison fraîche</i>. December to March. + Rainfall, about 475 millimetres. 2. <i>Saison chaude et sèche</i>. April + to July. Rainfall, about 140 millimetres. 3. <i>Saison chaude et pluvieuse</i>. + July to November. Rainfall average, 121 millimetres. + </p> + <p> + Other authorities divide the <i>saison chaude et sèche</i> into two + periods, of which the latter, beginning about May, is called the <i>Renouveau</i>; + 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 midday 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. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + 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 silouette 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 with 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" (<i>yon ka sèpent-salé</i>);—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 + <i>crapaud-ladre</i>, 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." + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>travailleurs</i> from + serpent bite alone is probably fifty, <a href="#linknote-31" + name="linknoteref-31" id="linknoteref-31">[31]</a>—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. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>atelier</i>, + 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 (<i>amarreuse</i>): + 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 amareuses, the women + who tied and carried; and behind these the ka, the drum,—with a paid + <i>crieur</i> or <i>crieuse</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Y ka coumandé yo pouend gàde pou sèpent</i>," 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.... <a + href="#linknote-32" name="linknoteref-32" id="linknoteref-32">[32]</a> + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + ... We enter the grands-bois,—the primitive forest,—the "high + woods." + </p> + <p> + 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 interspaces 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 + fromagers, 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 <i>charbonniers</i>, 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 to-day 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0031" id="linkimage-0031"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/29-Montagen_Pelee.jpg" + alt="La Montagne PelÉe, As Seen from Grande Anse. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 nor more swift. + </p> + <p> + ... We climb. There is a trace rather than a foot-path;—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 me 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 <i>chasseurs-de-choux</i> (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 us + 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 easily 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 to 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Eau-de-Gouyave</i> (guava-water), which is always + sweet, clear, and cool in the very hottest weather. But the water of + almost everyone 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 mornes, 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 100 to 200 feet high. Their + waters are necessarily shallow in normal weather; but during rain-storms + 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. + </p> + <p> + Most of these rivers are well stocked with fish, of which the <i>tétart</i>, + <i>banane</i>, <i>loche</i>, and <i>dormeur</i> 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 "<i>titiri</i>" <a + href="#linknote-33" name="linknoteref-33" id="linknoteref-33">[33]</a> + —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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0032" id="linkimage-0032"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/30-Ferns.jpg" alt="Arborescent Ferns on a Mountain Road. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 Dutertre 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."... + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>petits-bois</i> + (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 too low. There are beautiful flowers here,—various + unfamiliar species of lobelia;—pretty red and yellow blossoms + belonging to plants which the creole physician calls <i>Bromeliacoe</i>; + and a plant like the <i>Guy Lussacia</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>razié</i>: + 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,—<i>La Fente</i>. + 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 <i>bourbiers</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 larvae of the <i>maringouin</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>Étang Sec</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + ... 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,—<i>8 Avril, 1867</i>.... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Cabane-Jésus</i> ("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 + <i>siffleur-de-montagne</i> 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 comes, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 up-heaved it. + </p> + <p> + 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 today 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>chef-lieu</i> + 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 Ossae, 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." + </p> + <p> + 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,—<i>le Pays de Revenants</i>. And the charm is as puissant in + our own day as it was more than two hundred years ago, when Père Dutertre + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + "Let there suddenly open before you one of those vistas, or <i>anses</i>, + 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 (<i>cases</i>);—or merely picture to yourself one of the most + ordinary, most trivial scenes: nets being hauled by two ranks of + fishermen; a <i>canot</i> waiting for the <i>embellie</i> 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! 0 + 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."... <a href="#linknote-34" + name="linknoteref-34" id="linknoteref-34">[34]</a> + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Wast thou brought forth before the + hills?</i>"... 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — 'TI CANOTIÉ + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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,—<i>bom!</i>—is also applied to the ship itself. The + English or French or Belgian steamer, however large, is only known as <i>packett-à</i>, + <i>batiment-là</i>; but the American steamer is always the "bom-ship"—<i>batiment-bom-à</i>, + or, the "food-ship"—<i>batiment-mangé-à</i>.... You hear women and + men asking each other, as the shock of the gun flaps through all the town, + "<i>Mi! gadé ça qui là, chè?</i>" And if the answer be, "<i>Mais c'est + bom-là, chè,—bom-mangé-à ka rivé</i>" (Why, it is the bom, dear,—the + food-bom that has come), great is the exultation. + </p> + <p> + Again, because of the sound of her whistle, we find a steamer called in + this same picturesque idiom, <i>batiment-cône</i>,—"the horn-ship." + There is even a song, of which the refrain is:— + </p> + <p> + "Bom-là rivé, chè.-Batiment-cône-là rivé." + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>'ti canotié</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + These <i>'ti canotié</i>—these little canoe-boys and professional + divers—are, for the most part, sons of boatmen of color, the real <i>canotiers</i>. + I cannot find who first invented the <i>'ti canot</i>: 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 <i>palettes</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0033" id="linkimage-0033"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/Ti_Canot.jpg" alt="'ti Canot. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>La Guayra</i> 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 + <i>'ti canots</i>; 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.... + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the <i>La Guayra</i> 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 stern of the + steamer; and there arose such a heaving as made all the little canoes + dance. The <i>La Guayra</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>La Guayra</i> was yet + moving slowly, it was a severe strain to follow her, and there was no time + to be lost. + </p> + <p> + The captain of the little band—black Maximilien, ten years old, and + his comrade Stéphane—nicknamed <i>Ti Chabin</i>, because of his + bright hair,—a slim little yellow boy of eleven—led the + pursuit, crying always, "<i>Encò, Missié,—encò!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + The <i>La Guayra</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Fouinq! ça fond içitt!</i>" he gasped. + </p> + <p> + Maximilien felt all at once uneasy. Very deep water, and perhaps sharks. + And sunset not far off! The <i>La Guayra</i> was diminishing in the + offing. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Boug-là 'lé fai nou néyé!—laissé y, Stéphane!</i>" he + cried. (The fellow wants to drown us. <i>Laissé</i>—leave it alone.) + </p> + <p> + But Stéphane had recovered breath, and was evidently resolved to try + again. It was gold! + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Mais ça c'est lò!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Assez, non!</i>" screamed Maximilien. "<i>Pa plongé 'ncò, moin + ka di ou! Ah! foute!</i>"... + </p> + <p> + Stéphane had dived again! + </p> + <p> + ... And where were the others? "<i>Bon-Dié, gadé oti yo yé!</i>" They were + almost out of sight,—tiny specks moving shoreward.... The <i>La + Guayra</i> now seemed no bigger than the little packet running between St. + Pierre and Fort-de-France. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah! moin té ka di ou laissé y!</i>" cried Maximilien, in anger + and alarm.... "<i>Gàdé, gàdé sang-à ka coulé nans nez ou,-nans bouche + ou!...Mi oti Iézautt!</i>" + </p> + <p> + <i>Lèzautt</i>, the rest, were no longer visible. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Et mi oti nou yé!</i>" cried Maximilien again. They had never + ventured so far from shore. + </p> + <p> + But Stéphane answered only, "<i>C'est lò!</i>" 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Mi! mi!—mi oti nou yé!</i>" reiterated Maximilien. "<i>Bon-Dié!</i> + look where we are!" + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>La Guayra</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Maximilien screamed out to him:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou pa ka pagayé,—anh?—ou ni bousoin dòmi?</i>" + (Thou dost not paddle, eh?—thou wouldst go to sleep?) + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Si! moin ka pagayé,—epi fò!</i>" (I am paddling, and + hard, too!) responded Stéphane.... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou ka pagayé!—ou ka menti!</i>" (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!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou fou!</i>" cried Stéphane, becoming angry. "<i>Moin ka + pagayé!</i>" (I am paddling.) + </p> + <p> + —"Beast! never may we get home so! Paddle, thou lazy!—paddle, + thou nasty!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Macaque</i> thou!—monkey!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Chabin!</i>—must be chabin, for to be stupid so!" + </p> + <p> + —"Thou black monkey!—thou species of <i>ouistiti!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"Thou tortoise-of-the-land!—thou slothful more than <i>molocoye!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"Why, thou cursed monkey, if thou sayest I do not paddle, thou dost + not know how to paddle!"... + </p> + <p> + ... 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Mais ni qui chose qui douôle içitt!</i>... There is something + queer, Stéphane; there is something queer."... + </p> + <p> + —"Ah! you begin to see now, Maximilien!-it is the current!" + </p> + <p> + —"A devil-current, Stéphane.... We are drifting: we will go to the + horizon!"... + </p> + <p> + To the horizon—"<i>nou kallé lhorizon!</i>"—a phrase of + terrible picturesqueness.... In the creole tongue, "to the horizon" + signifies to the Great Open—into the measureless sea. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>C'est pa lapeine pagayé atouèlement</i>" (It is no use to + paddle now), sobbed Maximilien, laying down his palettes. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Si! si!</i>" said Stéphane, reversing the motion: "paddle with + the current." + </p> + <p> + —"With the current! It runs to La Dominique!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pouloss</i>," phlegmatically returned Stéphane,—"<i>ennou!</i>—let + us make for La Dominique!" + </p> + <p> + —"Thou fool!—it is more than past forty kilometres.... <i>Stéphane, + mi! gadé!—mi quz" gouôs requ'em!</i>" + </p> + <p> + A long black fin cut the water almost beside them, passed, and vanished,—a + <i>requin</i> indeed! But, in his patois, the boy almost re-echoed the + name as uttered by quaint Père Dutertre, 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. + </p> + <p> + —"Do not paddle, Stéphane!—do not put thy hand in the water + again!" + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + ... The <i>La Guayra</i> was a point on the sky-verge;—the sun's + face had vanished. The silence and the darkness were deepening together. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Si lanmè ka vini plis fò, ça nou ké fai?</i>" (If the sea + roughens, what are we to do?) asked Maximilien. + </p> + <p> + —"Maybe we will meet a steamer," answered Stéphane: "the <i>Orinoco</i> + was due to-day." + </p> + <p> + —"And if she pass in the night?" + </p> + <p> + —"They can see us."... + </p> + <p> + —"No, they will not be able to see us at all. There is no moon." + </p> + <p> + —"They have lights ahead." + </p> + <p> + —"I tell thee, they will not see us at all,—pièss! pièss! + pièss!" + </p> + <p> + —"Then they will hear us cry out." + </p> + <p> + —"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 <i>Orinoco</i> is more big than the church + of the 'Centre.'" + </p> + <p> + —"Then we must try to get to La Dominique." + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>sans-fond</i>. + And they passed the great cliffs of Aux Abymes, under which lies the + Village of the Abysms. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>sans-fond</i>,—out + to the horizon. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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,—<i>riding + the horizon!</i> + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + From time to time they both cried out together, as loud as they could,—"<i>Sucou!—sucou!—sucou!</i>"—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. + </p> + <p> + —"Maximilien," said Stéphane, while the great heaving seemed to grow + vaster,—"<i>fau nou ka prié Bon-Dié</i>."... + </p> + <p> + Maximilien answered nothing. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Fau prié Bon-Dié</i>" (We must pray to the Bon-Dié), repeated + Stéphane. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pa lapeine, li pas pè ouè nou atò!</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + —"O Maximilien!—<i>Bon-Dié ka ouè toutt, ka connaitt toutt</i>" + (He sees all; He knows all), cried Stéphane. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Y pa pè ouè non pièss atouèelement, moin ben sur!</i>" (He + cannot see us at all now,—I am quite sure) irreverently responded + Maximilien.... + </p> + <p> + —"Thou thinkest the Bon-Dié like thyself!—He has not eyes like + thou," protested Stéphane. "<i>Li pas ka tini coulè; li pas ka tini zié</i>" + (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.] + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Moin pa save si li pa ka tini coulè</i>" (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.... <i>Fouinq!</i>—how idiot!" + </p> + <p> + —"Why, it is in the Catechism," cried Stéphane.... "<i>'Bon-Dié, li + conm vent: vent tout-patout, et nou pa save ouè li;-li ka touché nou,—li + ka boulvésé lanmè.'</i>" (The Good-God is like the Wind: the Wind is + everywhere, and we cannot see It;—It touches us,—It tosses the + sea.) + </p> + <p> + —"If the Bon-Dié is the Wind," responded Maximilien, "then pray thou + the Wind to stay quiet." + </p> + <p> + —"The Bon-Dié is not the Wind," cried Stéphane: "He is like the + Wind, but He is not the Wind."... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah! soc-soc—fouinq!</i>... More better past praying to + care we be not upset again and eaten by sharks." + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps, if there had been a breeze, neither Stéphane nor Maximilien would + have seen the sun again. But they saw him rise. + </p> + <p> + 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 Sea!... 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ça c'est la Dominique</i>," said Maximilien,—"<i>Ennou + pou ouivage-à!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + <i>Sough!—sough!—sough!</i>—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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Moin ni ben faim</i>," murmured Maximilien. Neither had eaten + since the morning of the previous day,—most of which they had passed + sitting in their canoe. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Moin ni anni soif</i>," 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 coming of + steamers,—the <i>Orinoco</i> might pass, or the English packet, or + some one of the small Martinique steamboats might be sent out to find + them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Aïe! ou ké jété nou encò</i>," panted Maximilien,—"<i>metté + ou toutt longue</i>." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou ben malade?</i>" he asked.... Stéphane did not seem to hear: + his eyes remained closed. + </p> + <p> + —"Stéphane!" cried Maximilien, in alarm,—"Stéphane!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>C'est lò, papoute</i>," murmured Stéphane, without lifting his + eyelids,—"<i>ça c'est lò!—ou pa janmain ouè yon bel pièce conm + ça?</i>" (It is gold, little father.... Didst thou ever see a pretty piece + like that?... No, thou wilt not beat me, little father?—no, <i>papoute!</i>) + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou ka dòmi, Stéphane?</i>"—queried Maximilien, wondering,—"art + asleep?" + </p> + <p> + But Stéphane opened his eyes and looked at him so strangely! Never had he + seen Stéphane look that way before. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>C'a ou ni, Stéphane?—what ails thee?—aïe, Bon-Dié, + Bon-Dié!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Bon-Dié!</i>"—muttered Stéphane, closing his eyes again + at the sound of the great Name,—"He has no color!—He is like + the Wind."... + </p> + <p> + —"Stéphane!"... + </p> + <p> + —"He feels in the dark—He has not eyes."... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Stéphane, pa pàlé ça!!</i>" + </p> + <p> + —"He tosses the sea.... He has no face;—He lifts up the + dead... and the leaves."... + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou fou</i>" cried Maximilien, bursting into a wild fit of + sobbing,—"Stéphane, thou art mad!" + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>zombi!</i> + </p> + <p> + But Stéphane's eyes remained closed!—he ceased to speak. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>pisquette</i> and <i>congre</i>,—of <i>caringue</i> and <i>gouôs-zié</i> + and <i>balaou</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + And the sun went down. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Sucou! + sucou!</i>" Stéphane lay motionless and dumb: his feet, touching + Maximilien's naked hips, felt singularly cold. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Ou...</i>"; 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Bon-Dié, li conm vent... li ka touché nou... + nou pa save ouè li</i>." (But why had the Bon-Dié shaken the wind?) "<i>Li + pa ka tini zié</i>," answered the water.... <i>Ouille!</i>—He might + all the same care not to upset folks in the sea!... <i>Mi!</i>... + </p> + <p> + 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.... "<i>Poor little devils!—poor little devils!</i>" 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!... + </p> + <p> + ... Maximilien was lying under an electric-light on board the great + steamer <i>Rio de Janeiro</i>, and dead Stéphane beside him.... It was + four o'clock in the morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — LA FILLE DE COULEUR. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,—<i>chemise</i> and <i>jupe</i>,—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. <a href="#linknote-35" name="linknoteref-35" id="linknoteref-35">[35]</a> + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0034" id="linkimage-0034"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/31-Martinique_Turban.jpg" + alt="The Martinique Turban, Or Madras Calende. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 <i>belles affranchies</i> 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 (<i>zépingue + tremblant</i>) to attach the folds of the brilliant Madras turban; the + great necklace of three or four strings of gold beads bigger than peas (<i>collier-choux</i>); + the ear-rings, immense but light as egg-shells (<i>zanneaux-à-clous</i> or + <i>zanneaux-chenilles</i>); the bracelets (<i>portes-bonheur</i>); the + studs (<i>boutons-à-clous</i>); 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 <i>da</i> (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 <i>das</i>, + hired only for such occasions), she usually borrows the jewellery. 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 + <i>belle affranchie</i> 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 <i>collier-choux</i>, <i>zépingues + tremblants</i>, and all the ornaments of a da. <a href="#linknote-36" + name="linknoteref-36" id="linknoteref-36">[36]</a> Recalling the + impression of that dazzling <i>da</i>, I can even now feel the picturesque + justice of the fabulist's description of Cinderella's creole costume: <i>Ça + té ka baille ou mal zie!</i>—(it would have given you a pain in your + eyes to look at her!) + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0035" id="linkimage-0035"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/32-Head-Dress.jpg" alt="The Guadeloupe Head-dress. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... 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 <i>douiellette</i> are becoming + less vivid;—while more and more young colored girls are being <i>élevées + en chapeau</i> ("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 <i>douillette</i> + and <i>mouchoir</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>douillettes</i>, <i>mouchoirs</i>, and <i>foulards</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>affranchie</i>—that still worn by the <i>da</i>—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 jewellery were all invented in + the colony, where the <i>collier-choux</i> is still manufactured by local + goldsmiths. Purchasers buy one, two, or three <i>grains</i>, 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 <i>douillette</i> + or the <i>collier-choux</i>: 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + Considering only the French peasant colonist and the West African slave as + the original factors of that physical evolution visible in the modern <i>fille-de-couleur</i>, + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0036" id="linkimage-0036"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/33-Mulatress.jpg" alt="Young Mulattress. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0037" id="linkimage-0037"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/34-Plantation_Coolie.jpg" + alt="Plantation Coolie Woman in Martinique Costume. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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" (<i>hideuses</i>). + 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. <a + href="#linknote-37" name="linknoteref-37" id="linknoteref-37">[37]</a> + 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 "<i>De la naissance honteuse des mulastres</i>": + </p> + <p> + —"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."... + </p> + <p> + To-day, however, the traveller would look in vain for a <i>livid</i> 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; <a href="#linknote-38" name="linknoteref-38" + id="linknoteref-38">[38]</a> 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0038" id="linkimage-0038"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/35-Half-Breed.jpg" alt="Coolie Half-breed " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + 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" (<i>le noir de la Cote</i>), can be + recognized at once.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0039" id="linkimage-0039"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/36-Country_Girl.jpg" alt="Country-girl--pure Negro Race. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + ... "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."... <a href="#linknote-39" + name="linknoteref-39" id="linknoteref-39">[39]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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 + curinus Article 9 of the <i>Code Noir</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>Africaine</i>, reformed, refined, beautified in + her descendants, transformed into the creole negress, commenced to exert a + fascination irresistible, capable of winning anything (<i>capable de tout + obtenir</i>)." <a href="#linknote-40" name="linknoteref-40" + id="linknoteref-40">[40]</a> Travellers of the eighteenth century were + confounded by the luxury of dress and of jewellery 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), <a href="#linknote-41" + name="linknoteref-41" id="linknoteref-41">[41]</a> 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 <i>negress</i> 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 <i>filles-de-couleur</i>. + 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 <i>three times her value as a + slave!</i> + </p> + <p> + 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, <a + href="#linknote-42" name="linknoteref-42" id="linknoteref-42">[42]</a> + "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 (<i>s'en + faire les marraines</i>)."... 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 <i>belles + affranchies</i> 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." <a href="#linknote-43" name="linknoteref-43" + id="linknoteref-43">[43]</a> + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>fille-de-couleur</i>, + inheriting the charm of the belle <i>affranchie</i>, 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 coloniei. 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 <i>belle affranchie</i>, had mocked at slave codes;—in the <i>fille-de-couleur</i> + 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: <i>Enfants légitimes</i>, 1 (one birth + announced); <i>enfants naturels</i>, 25. + </p> + <p> + In speaking of the <i>fille-de-couleur</i> 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 <i>gens-de-couleur</i> + 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 <i>filles-de-couleur</i>, 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 <i>de couleur</i>. (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 <i>sang-mêlé</i>, + 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 <i>fille-de-couleur</i> 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 <i>belle affranchie</i> of the + old regime;—for the moral cruelties of slavery have survived + emancipation. + </p> + <p> + Physically, the typical <i>fille-de-couleur</i> may certainly be classed, + as white creole writers have not hesitated to class her, with the "most + beautiful women of the human race." <a href="#linknote-44" + name="linknoteref-44" id="linknoteref-44">[44]</a> 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 <i>zhèbe-m'amisé</i>, or <i>zhèbe-manmzelle</i>, + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... "<i>Née + de l'amour</i>," says a creole writer, "<i>la fille-de-couleur vit + d'amour, de rires, et d'oublis</i>."... <a href="#linknote-45" + name="linknoteref-45" id="linknoteref-45">[45]</a> + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0040" id="linkimage-0040"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/37-Capresse.jpg" alt="Capresse. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>tourtouroux</i>: + <a href="#linknote-46" name="linknoteref-46" id="linknoteref-46">[46]</a> + 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, + <a href="#linknote-47" name="linknoteref-47" id="linknoteref-47">[47]</a> + who visited Martinique at the end of the last century, offers a clue to + the mystery. Speaking of the tax upon enfranchisement, he writes:— + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I find in the "Bulletin des Actes Administratifs de la Martinique" for + 1831 (No. 41) a list of slaves to whom liberty was accorded <i>pour + services rendus à leurs maîtres</i>. 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, <i>pour + service accompli dans la milice</i>, only! + </p> + <p> + Most of the French West Indian writers whose works I was able to obtain + and examine speak severely of the <i>hommes-de-couleur</i> 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 (<i>hardis</i>) beyond all + conception. They have much vivacity, but are given to their pleasures, + fickle, proud, deceitful (<i>cachés</i>), 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. + </p> + <p> + 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—<i>à coup sûr, les meilleures et + les plus douces personnes qu'il y ait au monde</i>."—("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 <i>hommes-de-couleur</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + ... To-day it cannot be truly said of the <i>fille-de-couleur</i> 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: "<i>C'est un pays + perdu!</i>" 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —"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." +</pre> + <p> + [He answers kindly in French: the <i>békés</i> are always kind to these + gentle children.] + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —"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!" +</pre> + <p> + ... On the eve of the <i>Fête Dieu</i>, 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 <i>reposoirs</i>; in creole + patois, "<i>reposouè Bon-Dié</i>." 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:—<i>Fortune milatresse c'est + reposouè Bon-Dié</i>. (The luck of the mulattress is the resting-place of + the Good-God). + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — BÊTE-NI-PIÉ. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>mabouya</i> 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 <i>fourmi fou</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + 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:—<i>ça ka ba ou lota</i>, say + the colored people. Nevertheless, there is no creature more timid and + harmless than the mabouya. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>bête à-mille-pattes</i> is the terror of + the barefooted population:—scarcely a day passes that some child or + bonne or workman is not bitten by the creature. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>rhommeries</i>) 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>moresques</i> + or your <i>chinoises</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>lepismaoe</i>, + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>bête-ni-pié</i> + (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:—"<i>Quitté moin + tchoué ou, maudi!—quitté moin tchoué ou, scelerat!—quitté moin + tchoué ou, Satan!—quitté moin tchoué ou, abonocio!</i>" etc. (Let me + kill you, accursed! scoundrel! Satan! abomination!) + </p> + <p> + The patois term for the centipede is not a mere corruption of the French + <i>bête-à-mille-pattes</i>. Among a population of slaves, unable to read + or write, <a href="#linknote-48" name="linknoteref-48" id="linknoteref-48">[48]</a> + 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, <i>bête-anni-pié</i> + (the Beast-which-is-all-feet); <i>anni</i> in creole signifying "only," + and in such a sense "all." Abbreviated by subsequent usage to <i>bête-'ni-pié</i>, + the appellation has amphibology;—for there are two words <i>ni</i> + 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." + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>matoutou-falaise</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + I am about to leave my room after breakfast, when little Victoire who + carries the meals up-stairs in a wooden tray, screams out:—"<i>Gadé, + Missié! ni bête-ni-pié assous dos ou!</i>" There is a thousand-footed + beast upon my back!. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>magnifying himself</i>,—dilating the disgust + of his shape at will: he invariably amplifies himself to face attack.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + —"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?" + </p> + <p> + —"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. + </p> + <p> + —"Touch them," he said, holding out to me the mass of articulated + flat bodies and bristling legs. + </p> + <p> + —"Not for anything!" I replied, in astonished disgust. He laughed, + and opened his hand. As he did so, the mass expanded. + </p> + <p> + —"Now look," he exclaimed! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Negroes call it the <i>coco-macaque</i>. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — MA BONNE. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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. "<i>Missié</i>," she says, "<i>lézhè pa aïen pou moin: + c'est minitt ka fouté moin yon travail!</i>"—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 <i>cabritt-bois</i>. + The great cricket stops singing, she says, at half-past four: the + cessation of its chant awakens her. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Bonjou', Missié. Coument ou passé lanuitt?</i>"—"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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>cocoyage</i>, or a <i>mabiyage</i>, or a <i>bavaroise</i>. + </p> + <p> + The <i>cocoyage</i> 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 <i>baton-lélé</i>. The <i>baton-lélé</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>mabiyage</i> 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 <i>mabi</i>. The taste of <i>mabi</i> + I can only describe as that of molasses and water flavored with a little + cinchona bark. + </p> + <p> + The <i>bavaroise</i> 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 <i>cocoyage</i>, 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,—<i>yon ti ponch</i>,—rum + and water, sweetened with plenty of sugar or sugar syrup. + </p> + <p> + The word <i>sucre</i> is rarely used in Martinique,—considering that + sugar is still the chief product;—the word <i>doux</i>, "sweet," is + commonly substituted for it. <i>Doux</i> has, however, a larger range of + meaning: it may signify syrup, or any sort of sweets,—duplicated + into <i>doudoux</i>, it means the corossole fruit as well as a sweetheart. + <i>Ça qui lè doudoux?</i> is the cry of the corossole-seller. If a negro + asks at a grocery store (<i>graisserie</i>) for <i>sique</i> instead of + for <i>doux</i>, 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 <i>sique</i> + when referring to quality of sugar wanted, or to sugar in hogsheads. <i>Doux</i> + 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 <i>d'leau-pain</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + ... After Cyrillia has prepared my <i>cocoyage</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + Cyrillia has given me a good idea of the range and character of <i>mangé-Créole</i>, + and I can venture to write something about it after a year's observation. + By <i>mangé-Créole</i> I refer only to the food of the people proper, the + colored population; for the <i>cuisine</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>daube</i>;—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,—<i>calalou</i>, a gombo soup, almost precisely + similar to that of Louisiana; and the <i>soupe-d'habitant</i>, or "country + soup." It is made of yams, carrots, bananas, turnips, <i>choux-caraïbes</i>, + pumpkins, salt pork, and pimento, all boiled together;—the salt meat + being left out of the composition on Fridays. + </p> + <p> + 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" (<i>férocé</i>); 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 <i>farine</i> is only used to signify + manioc flour: if wheat-flour be referred to it is always qualified as + "French flour" (<i>farine-Fouance</i>). Although certain flours are + regularly advertised as American in the local papers, they are still <i>farine-Fouance</i> + for the population, who call everything foreign French. American beer is + <i>biè-Fouance</i>; American canned peas, <i>ti-pois-Fouance</i>; any + white foreigner who can talk French is <i>yon béké-Fouance</i>. + </p> + <p> + Usually the manioc flour is eaten uncooked: <a href="#linknote-49" + name="linknoteref-49" id="linknoteref-49">[49]</a> merely poured into a + plate, with a little water and stirred with a spoon into a thick paste or + mush,—the thicker the better;—<i>dleau passé farine</i> (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 (<i>sirop-battrie</i>): + this preparation, which is very nice, is called <i>cousscaye</i>. There is + also a way of boiling it with molasses and milk into a kind of pudding. + This is called <i>matêté</i>; children are very fond of it. Both of these + names, <i>cousscaye</i> and <i>matêté</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + Of all the preparations of codfish with which manioc flour is eaten, I + preferred the <i>lamori-bouilli</i>,—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 <i>màchannes lapacotte</i>, who seem to make a specialty + of <i>macadam</i> (codfish stewed with rice) and the other two dishes + already referred to. But in every colored family there are occasional + feasts of <i>lamori-au-laitt</i>, codfish stewed with milk and potatoes; + <i>lamori-au-grattin</i>, codfish boned, pounded with toast crumbs, and + boiled with butter, onions, and pepper into a mush;—<i>coubouyon-lamori</i>, + codfish stewed with butter and oil;—<i>bachamelle</i>, codfish boned + and stewed with potatoes, pimentos, oil, garlic, and butter. + </p> + <p> + <i>Pimento</i> is an essential accompaniment to all these dishes, whether + it be cooked or raw: everything is served with plenty of pimento,-<i>en + pile</i>, <i>en pile piment.</i> Among the various kinds I can mention + only the <i>piment-café</i>, or "coffee-pepper," larger but about the same + shape as a grain of Liberian coffee, violet-red at one end; the <i>piment-zouèseau</i>, + or bird-pepper, small and long and scarlet;—and the <i>piment-capresse</i>, + 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 <i>capresse</i>. + </p> + <p> + Cyrillia told me a story about this infernal vegetable. + </p> + <p> + II + </p> + <p> + ZHISTOUÈ PIMENT. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Lhè y oue canari-à ka bouï, y pouend <i>baton-lélé</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + II. PIMENTO STORY. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>chopines</i> + [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, <i>macoumè</i>,"—she + bid her good-day, and then went to her own house. + </p> + <p> + The moment she got home, she made a fire, and put her <i>canari</i> + [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. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she saw the canari boiling, she took her <i>baton-lélé</i>, and + beat up all those pimentos: then she made a <i>pimento-calalou</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + The first mouthful that husband took he stopped and screamed:—"<i>Aïe! + ouaill!</i> my wife!" The woman answered her husband: "<i>Ouaill</i>! my + husband!" The little children all screamed: "<i>Ouaill!</i> mamma!" Their + mamma answered: "<i>Ouaill!</i> 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.... + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>perroquet</i>, black, with bright bands of red and yellow; + the <i>cirurgien</i>, blue and black; the <i>patate</i>, yellow and black; + the <i>moringue</i>, which looks like polished granite; the <i>souri</i>, + pink and yellow; the vermilion <i>Gouôs-zie</i>; the rosy <i>sade</i>; the + red <i>Bon-Dié-manié-moin</i> ("the-Good-God-handled-me")—it has two + queer marks as of great fingers; and the various kinds of all-blue fish, + <i>balaou</i>, <i>conliou</i>, 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 <i>couronné</i>, pink + spotted beautifully with black,—a sort of Redfish, which never sells + less than fourteen cents a pound; and the <i>zorphie</i>, which has + exquisite changing lights of nacreous green and purple. It is said, + however, that the zorphi is sometimes poisonous, like the <i>bécunne</i>; + 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 <i>tazard</i>, the <i>lune</i>, the <i>capitaine</i>, the <i>dorade</i>, + the <i>perroquet</i>, the <i>couliou</i>, the <i>congre</i>, various + crabs, and even the <i>tonne</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>tonne</i>, a great blue-gray creature whose flesh is solid as beef; + next come in order of preferment the flying-fish (<i>volants</i>), which + often sell as low as four for a cent;—then the <i>lambi</i>, or + sea-snail, which has a very dense and nutritious flesh;—then the + small whitish fish classed as <i>sàdines</i>;—then the blue-colored + fishes according to price, <i>couliou</i>, <i>balaou</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0041" id="linkimage-0041"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/38-Old_Market_Place.jpg" + alt="Old Market-place of the Fort, St. Pierre.--(removed In 1888). " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 <i>sàdines</i> + 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 <i>sàdines</i> are roasted over a charcoal fire, and + flavored with a sauce of lemon, pimento, and garlic. When there are no <i>sàdines</i>, + there are sure to be <i>coulious</i> in plenty,—small <i>coulious</i> + about as long as your little finger: these are more delicate, and fetch + double the price. With four sous' worth of <i>coulious</i> a family can + have a superb <i>blaffe</i>. To make a <i>blaffe</i> the fish are cooked + in water, and served with pimento, lemon, spices, onions, and garlic; but + without oil or butter. Experience has demonstrated that <i>coulious</i> + make the best <i>blaffe</i>; and a <i>blaffe</i> is seldom prepared with + other fish. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + There are four dishes which are the holiday luxuries of the poor:—<i>manicou</i>, + <i>ver-palmiste</i>, <i>zandouille</i>, and <i>poule-épi-diri</i>. <a + href="#linknote-50" name="linknoteref-50" id="linknoteref-50">[50]</a> + </p> + <p> + The <i>manitou</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + The great worm, or caterpillar, called <i>ver-palmiste</i> 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, <i>léfant</i>: + 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>zandouilles</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + But <i>poule-épi-diri</i> 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 <i>jimbalaya</i>: 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:—"<i>Ça + ou lè 'nco-poule, épi-diri?</i>" (What more do you want, great heavens!—chicken-and-rice?) + Naughty children are bribed into absolute goodness by the promise of + poule-épi-diri:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + —"<i>Aïe! chè, bò doudoux! + Doudoux ba ou poule-épi-diri; + Aïe! chè, bò doudoux!</i>"... +</pre> + <p> + (Aïe, dear! kiss <i>doudoux!—doudoux</i> has rice-and-chicken for + you!—<i>aïe</i>, dear! kiss <i>doudoux!</i>) + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Diri-doux</i>, 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 <i>cachibou</i> + leaves, are retailed at a cent each. <i>Diri-aulaitt</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + Everybody eats <i>akras</i>;—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, <i>choux-caraïbes</i>, little black + peas (<i>poix-zié-nouè</i>, "black-eyed peas"), or of crawfish (<i>akra-cribîche</i>). + When made of carrots, bananas, chicken, palm-cabbage, etc. and sweetened, + they are called <i>marinades</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>choux-caraïbes</i>, + <i>patates</i>, <i>zignames</i>, <i>camanioc</i>, and <i>cousscouche</i>: + 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 <i>migan</i>: such as <i>migan-choux</i>, made with + the choux-caraïbe; <i>migan-zignames</i>, made with yams; <i>migan-cousscouche</i>, + etc.,—in which case crabs or shrimps are usually served with the <i>migan</i>. + There is a particular fondness for the little rosy crab called <i>tourlouroux</i>, + in patois <i>touloulou</i>. <i>Migan</i> is also made with bread-fruit. + Very large bananas or plantains are boiled with codfish, with <i>daubes</i>, + 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 <i>fleu-fouitt-à-pain</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>figues</i>). Plantains seem to be + called <i>bananes</i>. One is often surprised at popular nomenclature: <i>choux</i> + may mean either a sort of root (<i>choux-caraïbe</i>), or the top of the + cabbage-palm; <i>Jacquot</i> may mean a fish; <i>cabane</i> never means a + cabin, but a bed; <i>crickett</i> 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 <i>figues-Fouanc</i> + (French figs); otherwise nobody will understand him. There are many kinds + of bananas here called <i>figues</i>,—the four most popular are the + <i>figues-bananes</i>, which are plantains, I think; the <i>figues-makouenga</i>, + which grow wild, and have a red skin; the <i>figues-pommes</i> + (apple-bananas), which are large and yellow; and the <i>ti-figues-desse</i> + (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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>pomme-cannelle</i> + are little more than huge masses of very hard seeds buried in pulp of + exquisite taste. The <i>sapota</i>, or <i>sapodtilla</i>, 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:—"<i>Ess ou ainmein moin?—pouloss + tiré ti lapeau-là sans cassé-y</i>." Woe to him if he breaks it!... The + most disagreeable fruit is, I think, the <i>pomme-d'Haiti</i>, or Haytian + apple: it is very attractive exteriorly; but has a strong musky odor and + taste which nauseates. Few white creoles ever eat it. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>chadèque</i>, which grows here to fully three feet in + circumference, and has a sweet pink pulp; and there is the + "forbidden-fruit" (<i>fouitt-défendu</i>), 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: <i>c'est ça mênm qui fai moune ka fai yche conm ça atouelement!</i> + The fouitt-défendu is wonderful, indeed, in its way; but the fruit which + most surprised me on my first acquaintance with it was the <i>zabricôt</i>. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ou lè yon zabricôt?</i>" (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 <i>two</i> apricots, with the + observation:—"<i>Ça ke fai ou malade mangé toutt ça!</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0042" id="linkimage-0042"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/39-Bread_Fruit.jpg" alt="Bread-fruit Tree. " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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 <i>mangue</i> 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 <i>mango-Bassignac</i>;—<i>mango-pêche</i> (or peach-mango);—<i>mango-vert</i> + (green mango), very large and oblong;—<i>mango-grêffé</i>;—<i>mangotine</i>, + quite round and small;—<i>mango-quinette</i>, very small also, + almost egg-shaped;—<i>mango-Zézé</i>, very sweet, rather small, and + of flattened form;—<i>mango-d'or</i> (golden mango), worth half a + franc each;—<i>mango-Lamentin</i>, a highly cultivated variety—and + the superb <i>Reine-Amélie</i> (or Queen Amelia), a great yellow fruit + which retails even in Martinique at five cents apiece. + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + ... "<i>Ou c'est bonhomme caton?-ou c'est zimage, non?</i>" (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 <i>mangé-Creole</i> 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 (<i>tablett-coco-rapé</i>) + of which a stranger becomes very fond. But, nevertheless, I cannot eat + enough to quiet Cyrillia's fears. + </p> + <p> + 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: "<i>Yo + pa fai ça içi</i>"—(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: "<i>ça ké tchoué limiè zié ou</i>" (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." + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>dobanne</i>, the water-jar, dewy and cool with the exudation of the <i>Eau-de-Gouyave</i> + which filled it to the brim,—<i>toutt vivant</i>, as Cyrillia says, + "all alive"! There was a sudden scream,—the water-pitcher was + snatched from my hands by Cyrillia with the question: "<i>Ess ou lè tchoué + cò-ou?—Saint Joseph!</i>" (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. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>canar</i>), 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 <i>canari</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>zombis</i>. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Travaill Bon-Dié joli,—anh?</i>" (Is not the work of the + Good-God pretty?) she said at last.... "There was Madame Remy, who used to + sell the finest <i>foulards</i> and Madrases in St. Pierre;—she used + to study the clouds. She drew the patterns of the clouds for her <i>foulards</i>: + 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 <i>foulards</i> made just like it.... Since she is dead, you do + not see any more pretty <i>foulards</i> such as there used to be."... + </p> + <p> + —"Would you like to look at the moon with my telescope, Cyrillia?" I + asked. "Let me get it for you." + </p> + <p> + —"Oh no, no!" she answered, as if shocked. + </p> + <p> + —"Why?" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah! faut pa gàdé baggaïe Bon-Dié conm ça!</i>" (It is not right + to look at the things of the Good-God that way.) + </p> + <p> + I did not insist. After a little silence, Cyrillia resumed:— + </p> + <p> + —"But I saw the Sun and the Moon once fighting together: that was + what people call an <i>eclipse</i>,—is not that the word?... They + fought together a long time: I was looking at them. We put a <i>terrine</i> + 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?" + </p> + <p> + —"They don't, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + —"Oh yes, they do. I saw them!... And the Moon is much stronger than + the Sun!" + </p> + <p> + 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?" + </p> + <p> + —"Why, Cyrillia, they are only vapor,—brume: I have been in + clouds." + </p> + <p> + She looked at me in surprise, and, after a moment's silence, asked, with + an irony of which I had not supposed her capable:— + </p> + <p> + —"Then you are the Good-God?" + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + —"My dear Cyrillia, there is no sky to touch. The sky is only an + appearance." + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Anh, anh, anh!</i> No sky!—you say there is no sky?... + Then, what is that up there?" + </p> + <p> + —"That is air, Cyrillia, beautiful blue air." + </p> + <p> + —"And what are the stars fastened to?" + </p> + <p> + —"To nothing. They are suns, but so much further away than our sun + that they look small." + </p> + <p> + —"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!" + </p> + <p> + —"My dear Cyrillia, I don't see what that has to do with the sky." + </p> + <p> + —"Where does the Good-God stay, if there be no sky? And where is + heaven?—and where is hell?" + </p> + <p> + —"Hell in the sky, Cyrillia?" + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + —"What is a Protestant, Cyrillia?" + </p> + <p> + —"You are one. The Protestants do not believe in religion,—do + not love the Good-God." + </p> + <p> + —"Well, I am neither a Protestant nor a Catholic, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + —"Oh! you do not mean that; you cannot be a <i>maudi</i>, an + accursed. There are only the Protestants, the Catholics, and the accursed. + You are not a <i>maudi</i>, I am sure, But you must not say there is no + sky"... + </p> + <p> + —"But, Cyrillia"— + </p> + <p> + —"No: I will not listen to you:—you are a Protestant. Where + does the rain come from, if there is no sky,"... + </p> + <p> + —"Why, Cyrillia,... the clouds"... + </p> + <p> + —"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!" + </p> + <p> + —"Cyrillia, perhaps I am a <i>maudi</i>." + </p> + <p> + —"No, no! You are only a Protestant. But do not tell me there is no + sky: it is wicked to say that!" + </p> + <p> + —"I won't say it any more, Cyrillia—there! But I will say + there are no <i>zombis</i>." + </p> + <p> + —"I know you are not a <i>maudi</i>;—you have been baptized." + </p> + <p> + —"How do you know I have been baptized?" + </p> + <p> + —"Because, if you had not been baptized you would see <i>zombis</i> + all the time, even in broad day. All children who are not baptized see <i>zombis</i>."... + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>sociès</i>), + or <i>zombis</i>. 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. + </p> + <p> + <i>Zombi!</i>—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 <i>zombi</i>-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 <i>zombi</i> 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. "<i>Zombi ké nana ou</i>" (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:— + </p> + <p> + —"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 <i>Angelus</i> + rings.) Why? + </p> + <p> + —"<i>C'est pou moune pas joinne yo dans larue</i>." (So that people + may not meet with them in the street), Cyrillia answers. + </p> + <p> + —"Are they afraid of the people, Cyrillia?" I asked. + </p> + <p> + —"No, they are not afraid; but they do not want people to know their + business" (<i>pa lè moune ouè zaffai yo</i>). + </p> + <p> + Cyrillia also says one must not look out of the window when a dog howls at + night. Such a dog may be a <i>mauvais vivant</i> (evil being): "If he sees + me looking at him he will say, '<i>Ou tropp quirièse quittée cabane ou pou + gàdé zaffai lezautt</i>.'" (You are too curious to leave your bed like + that to look at other folks' business.) + </p> + <p> + —"And what then, Cyrillia?" + </p> + <p> + —"Then he will put out your eyes,—<i>y ké coqui zié ou</i>,—make + you blind." + </p> + <p> + —"But, Cyrillia," I asked one day, "did you ever see any zombis?" + </p> + <p> + —"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." + </p> + <p> + —"What do they look like?" + </p> + <p> + —"Like people,—sometimes like beautiful people (<i>bel moune</i>). + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>reposoirs</i> + (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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Ah ou pa connaitt choïe pays-ci</i>." (You do not know Things + in this country.) + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>engagés</i> or <i>envoyés</i>—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. '<i>Ah! macoumè</i>,' asked the sewing-woman, '<i>ça ou + ni dans guiôle-ou?</i>' And the other answered, very angrily, '<i>Ou ni + toupet mandé moin ça moin ni dans guiôle moin!—et cété ou qui té + brilé guiôle moin nans chandelle-ou hiè-souè</i>.'" (You have the + impudence to ask what is the matter with my mouth! and you yourself burned + my mouth in your candle last night.) + </p> + <p> + 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>I</i> + touch it?—never! it can go about its business. How do I know it is + not <i>an arranged crab</i> (<i>yon crabe rangé</i>), or an <i>envoyé</i>?—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, "<i>Miserabe!—envoyé Satan!—allez, maudi!</i>"—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." + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Yo te ka pilé + malifice</i>: 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. + </p> + <p> + XI. + </p> + <p> + While Cyrillia is busy with her <i>canari</i>, 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Épi quiless moune ça ou ka pàlé-à?</i>" + </p> + <p> + But she would always answer:—"<i>Moin ka pàlé anni cò moin</i>" (I + am only talking to my own body), which is the creole expression for + talking to oneself. + </p> + <p> + —"And what are you talking so much to your own body about, + Cyrillia?" + </p> + <p> + —"I am talking about my own little affairs" (<i>ti zaffai-moin</i>).... + That is all that I could ever draw from her. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Missié?</i>"—timidly. + </p> + <p> + —"Eh?" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Di moin, chè, ti manmaille dans pays ou, toutt piti, piti,—ess + ça pàlé Anglais?</i>" (Do the little children in my country—the + very, very little children—talk English?) + </p> + <p> + —"Why, certainly, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt piti, piti?</i>"—with growing surprise. + </p> + <p> + —"Why, of course!" + </p> + <p> + —"<i>C'est drôle, ça</i>" (It is queer, that!) She cannot understand + it. + </p> + <p> + —"And the little <i>manmaille</i> in Martinique, Cyrillia—<i>toutt + piti, piti</i>,—don't they talk creole?" + </p> + <p> + —"'<i>Oui; mais toutt moune ka pâlé nègue: ça facile</i>." (Yes; but + anybody can talk negro—that is easy to learn.) + </p> + <p> + XII. + </p> + <p> + 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 + <i>léfant</i>, 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,—<i>bourré épi flêches-canne</i>,—filled + with the plumes of the sugar-cane. A cheap trunk with broken hinges + contains her modest little wardrobe: a few <i>mouchoirs</i>, or kerchiefs, + used for head-dresses, a spare <i>douillette</i>, 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 <i>Esmeralda</i> + in prison with her pet goat; the other, Lamartine's <i>Laurence</i> with + her fawn. Both are very old and stained and bitten by the <i>bête-à-ciseau</i>, + a species of <i>lepisma</i>, which destroys books and papers, and + everything it can find exposed. On a shelf are two bottles,—one + filled with holy water; another with <i>tafia camphrée</i> (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. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Gagné ti bouquet pou Viège-ou, chè!</i>... + Buy a nosegay, dear, for your Virgin;—she is asking you for one;—give + her a little one, <i>chè cocott</i>."... 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. "<i>Faut + limé lampe ou pou fai la-Viège passé dans caïe-ou</i>," 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>chapelles</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —"Cyrillia, <i>mafi</i>," I asked her one day, after my discovery of + the little Virgin,—"would you not like me to buy a <i>chapelle</i> + for you?" The <i>chapelle</i> is the little bracket-altar, together with + images and ornaments, to be found in every creole bedroom. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Mais non, Missié</i>," she answered, smiling, "<i>moin aimein + ti Viège moin, pa lè gagnin dautt</i>. 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 <i>chapelle?</i>—Missié is a Protestant?" + </p> + <p> + —"I thought it might give you pleasure, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + —"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—" + </p> + <p> + —"Tell me what it is, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + She remained silent a moment, then said:— + </p> + <p> + —"Missié makes photographs...." + </p> + <p> + —"You want a photograph of yourself, Cyrillia?" + </p> + <p> + —"Oh! no, Missié, I am too ugly and too old. But I have a daughter. + She is beautiful—<i>yon bel bois</i>,—like a beautiful tree, + as we say here. I would like so much to have her picture taken." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. "<i>Yche moin, yche moin!... Oui! ou toutt bel!—yche + moin bel</i>." (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. + </p> + <p> + —"Ah! Missié, you watch me;—<i>ou guette moin</i>.... But she + is my child. Why should I not love her?... She looks so beautiful there." + </p> + <p> + —"She is beautiful, Cyrillia;—I love to see you love her." + </p> + <p> + She gazed at the picture a little longer in silence;—then turned to + me again, and asked earnestly:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>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</i>." + </p> + <p> + (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.) + </p> + <p> + —"Perhaps they will be able to do something like that one of these + days, Cyrillia." + </p> + <p> + —"Ah! that would be so nice. Then I could talk to her. <i>C'est yon + bel moune moin fai—y bel, joli moune!... Moin sé causé épi y</i>."... + </p> + <p> + ... 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!... + </p> + <p> + 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!... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — "PA COMBINÉ, CHÈ!" + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + ... More finely than any term in our tongue does the French word <i>frisson</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>ça qui le doudoux?</i>"... + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + ... 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 (<i>lit-à-bateau</i>) of heavy polished wood, with its richly + carven sides reaching down to the very floor;—and its invariable + companion, the little couch or <i>sopha</i>, similarly shaped but much + narrower, used only for the siesta;—and the thick red earthen + vessels (<i>dobannes</i>) 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,—<i>dleau toutt vivant</i>, + "all alive";—and the <i>verrines</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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,—"<i>Bonjou', + Missié</i>,"—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 <i>màchanne</i> + who brings your fruit, the <i>porteuse</i> who delivers your bread, the <i>blanchisseuse</i> + who washes your linen at the river,—and all the kindly folk who + circle about your existence, with their trays and turbans, their <i>foulards</i> + and <i>douillettes</i>, 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, "<i>Pauv' malhérè!</i>" (poor unfortunate), "<i>pauv' diabe!</i>"... "<i>Toutt + baggaïe-y pou allé, casse!</i>" (All its things-to-go-with are broken!) + sobbed a girl, with tears streaming down her cheeks.... She seemed to + believe it was alive.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + 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?... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + 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. <a href="#linknote-51" + name="linknoteref-51" id="linknoteref-51">[51]</a> + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>frisson</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>foulards</i>,—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + —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. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps she will quell this revolt forever,—thus:— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>frisson</i> 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.... + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>berceuse</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>carangue</i>, + when the beautiful tropic fish is turned in the light, and its gem-greens + shift to rich azure and prism-purple. + </p> + <p> + 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. <i>Papillon-lanmò</i>,—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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>cabritt-bois</i>, and the chirruping of + tree-frogs, and the <i>k-i-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 <i>bois-canon</i> 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 <i>guimbos</i>, the great bats. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pa combiné, chè!—pa combiné conm ça!</i>" (Do not think, + dear!—do not think like that!) + </p> + <p> + ... 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." + </p> + <p> + <i>Combiné</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pa combiné,—non, chè</i>," she repeated, plaintively, + stroking Felicien's hair. "It is thinking that makes us old.... And it is + time to bid your friend good-night."... + </p> + <p> + —"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."... + </p> + <p> + As he spoke she slipped an arm about his neck. + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Doudoux</i>," she persisted;—and her voice was a dove's + coo,—"<i>Si ou ainmein moin, pa combiné-non!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>If thou wouldst love me, + do not think</i>"... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — YÉ. + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + Almost every night, just before bedtime, I hear some group of children in + the street telling stories to each other. Stories, enigmas or <i>tim-tim</i>, + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>travailleur</i> 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 <i>chapeau-Bacouè</i>, + and feet like an ape, and fire in his throat. <i>Y ka sam yon gouôs, gouôs + macaque</i>.... + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + <i>Ça qui pa té connaitt Yé?</i>... 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 <a + href="#linknote-52" name="linknoteref-52" id="linknoteref-52">[52]</a> of + children; and they were most of the time all half dead for hunger. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + —The Devil had a big calabash in his hand full of <i>feroce</i>,—that + is to say, boiled salt codfish and manioc flour, with ever so many + pimentos (<i>épi en pile piment</i>),—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, <i>Aïe-yaïe</i>. + The Devil finished the last morsel, threw down the calabash, and said to + Yé in a terrible voice:—"<i>Atò, saff!—ou c'est ta moin!</i>" + (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!" + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>régime</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Manman mò!—papa mò!—touttt yche mò!</i>" (Mamma + dead!—papa dead!—all the children dead!) + </p> + <p> + And he blew his breath on them, and they all fell down stiff as if they + were dead—<i>raidi-cadave!</i>. 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Toutt moune lévé!</i>" (Everybody get up!) + </p> + <p> + Then they all got up. Then he pointed to all the plates and dishes full of + dirt, and said to them:—* + </p> + <p> + [* In the original:—"Y té ka monté assous tabe-là, épi y té ka fai + caca adans toutt plats-à, adans toutt zassiett-là."] + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Gobe-moin ça!</i>" + </p> + <p> + And they had to gobble it all up, as he told them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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." + </p> + <p> + 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.* + </p> + <p> + [*A peaklet rising above the verge of the ancient crater now filled with + water.] + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Eh bien!—ça ou ni, Yé fa ou lè?</i>" + </p> + <p> + When Yé had recounted his troubles, the Good-God said:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Pauv ma pauv!</i> 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:—'<i>Tam ni pou tam ni bé!</i>' Then the Devil will + drop down dead. Don't forget not to eat anything—<i>ou tanne?</i>"... + </p> + <p> + 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 (<i>bien conm y faut</i>), + and started. All the way he kept repeating the words the Good-God had told + him: "<i>Tam ni pou tam ni bé!"—"tam ni pou tam ni bé!</i>"—over + and over again. + </p> + <p> + —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 <i>zicaques</i> and green plums, and all sorts of nasty sour things, + till he could not eat any more. + </p> + <p> + —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. + </p> + <p> + 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,—"<i>Tam ni pou tam ni bé</i>," + he could only stammer out:—-"<i>Anni toqué Diabe-là cagnan</i>." + </p> + <p> + 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;— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Gobe-moin ça!</i>" And they had to gobble it up,—every + bit of it. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + But luckily for the poor woman, she had one child as cunning as a rat,—* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [* The great field-rat of Martinique is, in Martinique folk- + lore, the symbol of all cunning, and probably merits its + reputation.] +</pre> + <p> + a boy called Ti Fonté (little Impudent), who bore his name well. When he + saw his mother crying so much, he said to her:— + </p> + <p> + —"Mamma, send papa just once more to see the Good-God: I know + something to do!" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Yé used always to wear one of those big long coats they call <i>lavalasses</i>;—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 <i>floup!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:—"<i>Tam ni pou tam ni bé</i>."... + 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. + </p> + <p> + The moment Yé got home and took off his coat, Ti Fonté jumped out, <i>plapp!</i>—and + ran to his mamma, and whispered:— + </p> + <p> + —"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!" + </p> + <p> + Then the mother got ready a nice <i>calalou-crabe</i>, a <i>tonton-banane</i>, + a <i>matété-cirique</i>,—several calabashes of <i>couss-caye</i>, + two <i>régimes-figues</i> (bunches of small bananas),—in short, a + very fine dinner indeed, with a <i>chopine</i> of tafia to wash it all + well down. + </p> + <p> + 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:—-"<i>Tam ni pou tam ni bé!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Yé, like the old fool he was, kept trying to say what the + Bon-Dié had told him, and could only mumble:— + </p> + <p> + —"<i>Anni toqué Diabe-là cagnan!</i>" + </p> + <p> + 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—<i>pauv piti!</i> + </p> + <p> + 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—<i>yo tè plein lafòce</i>; 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <i>Fouinq!</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + The moment he did that, his nose swelled up as big as the refinery-pot of + a sugar-plantation. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"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 <i>taya</i> [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." + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The nose he took was the nose of the <i>coulivicou</i>.* And that is why + the <i>coulivicou</i> always looks so much ashamed of himself even to this + day. + </p> + <p> + [* The <i>coulivicou</i>, or "Colin Vicou," is a Martinique bird with a + long meagre body, and an enormous bill. It has a very tristful and + taciturn expression.... <i>Maig conm yon coulivicou</i>, "thin as a + coulivicou," is a popular comparison for the appearance of anybody much + reduced by sickness.] + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>rafale yche</i>,—and they are famished; for + you have taken into your <i>ajoupa</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV — LYS + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Two vanilla beans wrapped in a morsel of banana-leaf,—her poor + little farewell gift!... + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>bouts</i>, and a pretty box of French matches, warranted + inextinguishable by wind. Azaline, the blanchisseuse, sent me a little + pocket looking-glass. Cerbonnie, the <i>màchanne</i>, 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?... + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... <i>Steamer from + the South!</i> 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 <i>pouémiè + communion</i>. So I kiss her, according to the old colonial custom, once + on each downy cheek;—and she is to pray to <i>Notre Dame du Bon Port</i> + that the ship shall bear me safely to far-away New York. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. "<i>Adié encò, chè;—Bon-Dié ké béni + ou!</i>" 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. + </p> + <p> + ... Fifteen minutes later, Mademoiselle and I find ourselves under the + awnings shading the saloon-deck of the <i>Guadeloupe</i>. 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 <i>sakiwinkis</i>. + 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. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Guadeloupe</i> 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." + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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!— + </p> + <p> + 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!— + </p> + <p> + 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!— + </p> + <p> + And the violet velvet distances of eyening;—and the swaying of palms + against the orange-burning,—when all the heaven seems filled with + vapors of a molten sun!... + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> + <p> + —"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."... + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 wamrth, 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. + </p> + <p> + ... And it seems to me now that all which I have tried to write about the + <i>Pays des Revenants</i> can only be for others, who have never beheld + it,—vague like the design upon this fan. + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + <i>Brrrrrrrrrrr!</i>... The steam-winch is lifting the anchor; and the <i>Guadeloupe</i> + 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 <i>bonne</i> among the ever-thickening crowd upon + the quay.... Ah! there she is—waving her foulard. Mademoiselle Lys + is waving a handkerchief in reply.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0043" id="linkimage-0043"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/40-Basse-Terre.jpg" alt="Basse-terre St. Kitts. " + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + 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!... + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + ... 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + And ever through tepid nights and azure days the <i>Guadeloupe</i> rushes + on,—her wake a river of snow beneath the sun, a torrent of fire + beneath the stars,—steaming straight for the North. + </p> + <p> + 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;— + </p> + <p> + 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;— + </p> + <p> + Past low Antigua's vast blue harbor,—shark-haunted, bounded about by + huddling of little hills, blue and green. + </p> + <p> + 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;— + </p> + <p> + 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;— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + Then only the enormous double-vision of sky and sea. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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! + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + At once the engines slacken their respiration. The <i>Guadeloupe</i> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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 <i>sakiwinki</i>. 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!... + </p> + <p> + ... Hour after hour the <i>Guadeloupe</i> 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + ... 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!... + </p> + <p> + 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!... + </p> + <p> + 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!... <i>Adié, chè!—Bon-Dié ké bént ou!</i>... + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + APPENDIX — SOME CREOLE MELODIES + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="41 (125K)" src="images/41.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="42 (127K)" src="images/42.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="43 (127K)" src="images/43.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="44 (113K)" src="images/44.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="45 (132K)" src="images/45.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="46 (40K)" src="images/46.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + ENDNOTES + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linknote-1" id="linknote-1"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 1 (<a href="#linknoteref-1">return</a>)<br /> [ 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 site; and the beautiful trees have + been cut down.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-2" id="linknote-2"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 2 (<a href="#linknoteref-2">return</a>)<br /> [ 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:...] + </p> + <p class="foot"> + "When, among the populations of the Antilles, we first notice those + remarkable <i>métis</i> 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. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-3" id="linknote-3"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 3 (<a href="#linknoteref-3">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Extract from the "Story + of Marie," as written from dictation:</i> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + ... Manman-à té ni yon gouôs 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 bò la + fontaine, y pa trouvé pésonne pou châgé y. Y rété; y ka crié, "Toutt bon + Chritien, vini châgé moin!" + </p> + <p class="foot"> + ... Lhè manman rété y ouè pa té ni piess bon Chritien pou chage y. Y rété; + y crié: "Pouloss, si pa ni bon Chritien, ni mauvais Chritien! toutt + mauvais Chritien vini châgé moin!" + </p> + <p class="foot"> + ... Lhè y fini di ça, y ouè yon diabe qui ka vini, ka di conm çaa, "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." + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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 anyone to load her. She stood there, crying out, "Any good + Christian, come load me!" + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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!" + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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."] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-4" id="linknote-4"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 4 (<a href="#linknoteref-4">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>Y batt li conm lambi</i>—"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 phase.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-5" id="linknote-5"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 5 (<a href="#linknoteref-5">return</a>)<br /> [ Moreau de Saint-Méry + writes, describing the drums of the negroes of Saint Domingue: "Le plus + court de ces tambours est nommé <i>Bamboula</i>, attendu qu'il est formé + quelquefois d'un très-gros bambou."—"Description de la partie + française de Saint Domingue", vol. i., p. 44.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-6" id="linknote-6"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 6 (<a href="#linknoteref-6">return</a>)<br /> [ 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. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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 clear, begins the + breaking of the sea; then darkness comes, and after it the wind.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-7" id="linknote-7"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 7 (<a href="#linknoteref-7">return</a>)<br /> [ "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 + 4to.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-8" id="linknote-8"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 8 (<a href="#linknoteref-8">return</a>)<br /> [ 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 <i>quimboiseur</i>. + 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—<i>yon richard, man chè!</i> "How many cows did you + steal from him?" asked the magistrate. "<i>Ess moin pè save?—moin té + pouend yon savane toutt pleine</i>," 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. "<i>Moin pa ké rété geole</i>," + 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-9" id="linknote-9"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 9 (<a href="#linknoteref-9">return</a>)<br /> [ 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"] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-10" id="linknote-10"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 10 (<a href="#linknoteref-10">return</a>)<br /> [ Vol. iii., p. 382-3. + Edition of 1722.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-11" id="linknote-11"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 11 (<a href="#linknoteref-11">return</a>)<br /> [ 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-12" id="linknote-12"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 12 (<a href="#linknoteref-12">return</a>)<br /> [ The creole word <i>moudongue</i> + is said to be a corruption of <i>Mondongue</i>, 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-13" id="linknote-13"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 13 (<a href="#linknoteref-13">return</a>)<br /> [ 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 + <i>either from the movement of the Earth around the Sun, or from the + movement of the Sun around the Earth. Whether it be the one or the other, + of these two great bodies which moves...</i>" etc.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-14" id="linknote-14"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 14 (<a href="#linknoteref-14">return</a>)<br /> [ In creole, <i>cabritt-bois</i>,—("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 clock, the cessation of its song is the signal to get up.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-15" id="linknote-15"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 15 (<a href="#linknoteref-15">return</a>)<br /> [ —"Where dost stay, + dear?"—"Affairs of the goat are not affairs of the rabbit."—"But + why art thou dressed all in black thus?"—"I wear mourning for my + dead soul."—"<i>Aïe ya yaïe!</i>...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 <i>maboya</i> + enters unasked."—"Tell me where thou art going, sweetheart?"—"As + far as the River of the Lizard."—"<i>Fouinq!</i>—there are + more than thirty kilometres!"—"What of that?—dost thou want to + come with me?"] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-16" id="linknote-16"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 16 (<a href="#linknoteref-16">return</a>)<br /> [ "Kiss me now!"] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-17" id="linknote-17"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 17 (<a href="#linknoteref-17">return</a>)<br /> [ 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! + </p> + <p class="foot"> + "Voyez làbas, 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!" + </p> + <p class="foot"> + Translation: + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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! + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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!] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-18" id="linknote-18"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 18 (<a href="#linknoteref-18">return</a>)<br /> [ "Cette danse est opposée + à la pudeur. Avec tout cela, elle ne lesse 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 théatre élévé dans leur Choeur, vis-à-vis + de leur grille, qui est ouverte, afin que le Peuple aît sa part dans la + joye que ces bonnes âmes témoignent pour la naissance du Sauveur."] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-19" id="linknote-19"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 19 (<a href="#linknoteref-19">return</a>)<br /> [ 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. Sorely 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-20" id="linknote-20"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 20 (<a href="#linknoteref-20">return</a>)<br /> [ "<i>Bel laline, moin ka + montré ti pièce moin!—ba moin làgent toutt temps ou ka clairé!</i>"... + This little invocation is supposed to have most power when uttered on the + first appearance of the new moon.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-21" id="linknote-21"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 21 (<a href="#linknoteref-21">return</a>)<br /> [ "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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-22" id="linknote-22"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 22 (<a href="#linknoteref-22">return</a>)<br /> [ —"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 danse. 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! main 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."...] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-23" id="linknote-23"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 23 (<a href="#linknoteref-23">return</a>)<br /> [ 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 indicates a desire to affiliate with the white class.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-24" id="linknote-24"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 24 (<a href="#linknoteref-24">return</a>)<br /> [ 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-25" id="linknote-25"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 25 (<a href="#linknoteref-25">return</a>)<br /> [ I may cite in this + relation one stanza of a creole song—very popular in St. Pierre—celebrating + the charms of a little capresse:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "...Moin toutt jeine, + Gouôs, gouâs, vaillant, + Peau,di chapoti + Ka fai plaisi;—Lapeau moin + Li bien poli; + Et moin ka plai + Mênm toutt nhomme grave!" +</pre> + <p class="foot"> + —Which might be freely rendered thus:— + </p> + <p class="foot"> + "...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 at me!"] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-26" id="linknote-26"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 26 (<a href="#linknoteref-26">return</a>)<br /> [ 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-27" id="linknote-27"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 27 (<a href="#linknoteref-27">return</a>)<br /> [ Also called <i>La Barre + de 'Isle</i>,—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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-28" id="linknote-28"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 28 (<a href="#linknoteref-28">return</a>)<br /> [ Thibault de Chanvallon, + writing of Martinique in 1751, declared:—"All possible hinderances + to study are encountered here (<i>tout s'oppose à l'etude</i>): 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 othelr + 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."—(<i>Voyage à la Martinique</i>.)...The + conditions have scarcely changed since De Chanvallon's day, despite the + creation of Government roads, and the thinning of the high woods.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-29" id="linknote-29"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 29 (<a href="#linknoteref-29">return</a>)<br /> [ Humboldt believed the + height to be not less than 800 <i>toises</i> (1 toise=6 ft. 4.73 inches), + or about 5115 feet.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-30" id="linknote-30"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 30 (<a href="#linknoteref-30">return</a>)<br /> [ 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 time, might be + regarded as an omen of hurricane.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-31" id="linknote-31"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 31 (<a href="#linknoteref-31">return</a>)<br /> [ "De la piqure du serpent + de la Martinique," par Auguste Charriez, Medecin de la Marine. Paris: + Moquet, 1875] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-32" id="linknote-32"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 32 (<a href="#linknoteref-32">return</a>)<br /> [ M. Francard Bayardelle, + overseer of the Prèsbourg plantation at Grande Anse, tells me that the + most successful treatment of snake bite 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. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + The negro panseur method is much more elaborate and, to some extent, + mysterious. He cups and bleeds, using a small <i>couï</i>, or + half-calabash, in lieu of a grass; and then applies cataplasms of herbs,—orange-leaves, + cinnamon-leaves, clove-leaves, <i>chardon-béni</i>, <i>charpentier</i>, + 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 <i>the head of the fer-de-lance + itself</i>, 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 over-seer.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-33" id="linknote-33"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 33 (<a href="#linknoteref-33">return</a>)<br /> [ The sheet-lightnings + which play during the nights of July and August are termed in creole <i>Zéclai-titiri</i>, + or "titiri-lightnings";—it is believed these give notice that the + titiri have begun to swarn 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, "<i>Zéclai-a ka fai + yo écloré</i>" (the lightning hatches them).] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-34" id="linknote-34"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 34 (<a href="#linknoteref-34">return</a>)<br /> [ Dr. E. Rufz: "Études + historiques," vol. i., p. 189.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-35" id="linknote-35"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 35 (<a href="#linknoteref-35">return</a>)<br /> [ The brightly colored + douillettes are classified by the people according to the designs of the + printed calico:—<i>robe-à-bambou</i>,—<i>robe-à-bouquet</i>,—<i>robe-arc-en-ciel</i>, + —<i>robe-à-carreau</i>,—etc., according as the pattern is in + stripes, flower-designs, "rainbow" bands of different tints, or plaidings. + <i>Ronde-en-ronde</i> 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 <i>robe-uni</i>. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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 (cacoa) Pale blue. Sky + blue Pale rose. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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:— + </p> + <p class="foot"> + <i>Capresse</i> (a clear red skin) should wear.... Pale yellow. <i>Mulatresse</i> + (according to shade).... Rose. Blue. Green. <i>Negresse</i>.... White. + Scarlet, or any violet color.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-36" id="linknote-36"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 36 (<a href="#linknoteref-36">return</a>)<br /> [ "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."...—(<i>Conte Cendrillon</i>,—d'après + Turiault.) + </p> + <p class="foot"> + —"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, + <i>tremblants</i>, bracelets,—everything fine of that sort."—(Story + of Cinderella in Turinault's Creole Grammar).] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-37" id="linknote-37"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 37 (<a href="#linknoteref-37">return</a>)<br /> [ 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:—"<i>J'en ai vu des deux sexes faits à peindre, et + beaux par merveille</i>" (vol. iv. chap, vii,). He adds that their skin + was extremely fine, and of velvety softness;—"<i>le velours n'est + pas plus doux</i>."... Among the 30,000 blacks yearly shipped to the + French colonies, there were doubtless many representatives of the finer + African races.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-38" id="linknote-38"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 38 (<a href="#linknoteref-38">return</a>)<br /> [ "Leur sueur n'est pas + fétide comme celle des nègres de la Guinée," writes the traveller + Dauxion-Lavaysse, in 1813.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-39" id="linknote-39"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 39 (<a href="#linknoteref-39">return</a>)<br /> [ Dr. E. Rufz: "Études + historiques et statistiques sur la population de la Martinique." St. + Pierre: 1850. Vol. i., pp. 148-50. + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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.)] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-40" id="linknote-40"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 40 (<a href="#linknoteref-40">return</a>)<br /> [ Rufz: "Études," vol. i., + p. 236.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-41" id="linknote-41"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 41 (<a href="#linknoteref-41">return</a>)<br /> [ I am assured it has now + fallen to a figure not exceeding 5000.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-42" id="linknote-42"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 42 (<a href="#linknoteref-42">return</a>)<br /> [ Rufz: "Études," vol. ii., + pp. 311, 312.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-43" id="linknote-43"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 43 (<a href="#linknoteref-43">return</a>)<br /> [ Rufz: "Études," vol. i., + p. 237.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-44" id="linknote-44"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 44 (<a href="#linknoteref-44">return</a>)<br /> [ <i>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</i>.—"Le + Préjugé de Race aux Antilles Françaises." Par G. Souquet-Basiège. St. + Pierre, Martinique: 1883. pp. 661-62.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-45" id="linknote-45"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 45 (<a href="#linknoteref-45">return</a>)<br /> [ Turiault: "Étude sur le + langage Créole de la Martinique." Brest: 1874.... On page 136 he cites the + following pretty verses in speaking of the <i>fille-de-couleur</i>:— + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 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 ses + yeux.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-46" id="linknote-46"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 46 (<a href="#linknoteref-46">return</a>)<br /> [ A sort of land-crab;—the + female is selected for food, and, properly cooked, makes a delicious dish;—the + male is almost worthless.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-47" id="linknote-47"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 47 (<a href="#linknoteref-47">return</a>)<br /> [ "Voyage à la Martinique," + Par J. R., Général de Brigade. Paris: An, XII., 1804. Page 106.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-48" id="linknote-48"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 48 (<a href="#linknoteref-48">return</a>)<br /> [ According to the + Martinique "Annuaire" for 1887, there were even then, out of a total + population of 173,182, no less than 12,366 able to read and write.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-49" id="linknote-49"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 49 (<a href="#linknoteref-49">return</a>)<br /> [ 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.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-50" id="linknote-50"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 50 (<a href="#linknoteref-50">return</a>)<br /> [ I must mention a + surreptitious dish, <i>chatt</i>;—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 <i>quimboiseur</i> + 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: <i>ou ké ni sept + grands péchés effacé</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-51" id="linknote-51"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 51 (<a href="#linknoteref-51">return</a>)<br /> [ 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."— <i>Études</i>.] + </p> + <p> + <a name="linknote-52" id="linknote-52"> + <!-- Note --></a> + </p> + <p class="foot"> + 52 (<a href="#linknoteref-52">return</a>)<br /> [ In the patois, "<i>yon + rafale yche</i>,"—a "whirlwind of children."] + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Years in the French West Indies, by +Lafcadio Hearn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRENCH WEST INDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 6381-h.htm or 6381-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/6381/ + +Produced by Richard Farris and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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 with public domain eBooks. 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 in the public domain 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 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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (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 Michael +Hart, 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 +public domain works 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 located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., 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 Public Domain 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. + + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/6381-h/images/01-La_Place_Bertin.jpg b/6381-h/images/01-La_Place_Bertin.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..79b939f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/01-La_Place_Bertin.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/02-Pastry_Seller.jpg b/6381-h/images/02-Pastry_Seller.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0aa2a9f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/02-Pastry_Seller.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/03-Cimetiere.jpg b/6381-h/images/03-Cimetiere.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..282ff9d --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/03-Cimetiere.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/04-Jardin.jpg b/6381-h/images/04-Jardin.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..652bab6 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/04-Jardin.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/05-Cascade.jpg b/6381-h/images/05-Cascade.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6900f41 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/05-Cascade.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/06-Josephine.jpg b/6381-h/images/06-Josephine.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff66e35 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/06-Josephine.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/07-Bridgetown.jpg b/6381-h/images/07-Bridgetown.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2178771 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/07-Bridgetown.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/08-Trafalgar.jpg b/6381-h/images/08-Trafalgar.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8222a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/08-Trafalgar.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/09-Street.jpg b/6381-h/images/09-Street.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1d7498 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/09-Street.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/10-Victoria_Regia.jpg b/6381-h/images/10-Victoria_Regia.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6960593 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/10-Victoria_Regia.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/11-Coolie_Girl.jpg b/6381-h/images/11-Coolie_Girl.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9705be --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/11-Coolie_Girl.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/12-St_James_Ave.jpg b/6381-h/images/12-St_James_Ave.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3abbcc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/12-St_James_Ave.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/13-Coolies.jpg b/6381-h/images/13-Coolies.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..04f0f0f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/13-Coolies.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/14-Coolie_Servant.jpg b/6381-h/images/14-Coolie_Servant.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1534332 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/14-Coolie_Servant.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/15-Coolie_Merchant.jpg b/6381-h/images/15-Coolie_Merchant.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7cf12f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/15-Coolie_Merchant.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/16-Churh_Street.jpg b/6381-h/images/16-Churh_Street.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4498d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/16-Churh_Street.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/17-Castries.jpg b/6381-h/images/17-Castries.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e56d5a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/17-Castries.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/18-Ti_Marie.jpg b/6381-h/images/18-Ti_Marie.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be5287b --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/18-Ti_Marie.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/19-Fort_de_France.jpg b/6381-h/images/19-Fort_de_France.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b9c777 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/19-Fort_de_France.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/20-Creole.jpg b/6381-h/images/20-Creole.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cdd7b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/20-Creole.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/21-Confirmation.jpg b/6381-h/images/21-Confirmation.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..750a19f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/21-Confirmation.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/22-Playing_the_Ka.jpg b/6381-h/images/22-Playing_the_Ka.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea88979 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/22-Playing_the_Ka.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/23-Wayside_Shrine.jpg b/6381-h/images/23-Wayside_Shrine.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3802591 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/23-Wayside_Shrine.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/24-Victor_Hugo.jpg b/6381-h/images/24-Victor_Hugo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8596737 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/24-Victor_Hugo.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/25-Fort_St_Pierrre.jpg b/6381-h/images/25-Fort_St_Pierrre.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..672efd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/25-Fort_St_Pierrre.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/26-Riviere.jpg b/6381-h/images/26-Riviere.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f2737ac --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/26-Riviere.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/27-La_Pelee.jpg b/6381-h/images/27-La_Pelee.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9001b24 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/27-La_Pelee.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/28-Morne_Rouge.jpg b/6381-h/images/28-Morne_Rouge.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ee32d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/28-Morne_Rouge.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/29-Montagen_Pelee.jpg b/6381-h/images/29-Montagen_Pelee.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b41388 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/29-Montagen_Pelee.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/30-Ferns.jpg b/6381-h/images/30-Ferns.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a1581bf --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/30-Ferns.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/31-Martinique_Turban.jpg b/6381-h/images/31-Martinique_Turban.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a3cdb0f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/31-Martinique_Turban.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/32-Head-Dress.jpg b/6381-h/images/32-Head-Dress.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4b83dc --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/32-Head-Dress.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/33-Mulatress.jpg b/6381-h/images/33-Mulatress.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a1d97f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/33-Mulatress.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/34-Plantation_Coolie.jpg b/6381-h/images/34-Plantation_Coolie.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..62f4491 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/34-Plantation_Coolie.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/35-Half-Breed.jpg b/6381-h/images/35-Half-Breed.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3aee465 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/35-Half-Breed.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/36-Country_Girl.jpg b/6381-h/images/36-Country_Girl.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bcf552f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/36-Country_Girl.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/37-Capresse.jpg b/6381-h/images/37-Capresse.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d7b729 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/37-Capresse.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/38-Old_Market_Place.jpg b/6381-h/images/38-Old_Market_Place.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..294e5af --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/38-Old_Market_Place.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/39-Bread_Fruit.jpg b/6381-h/images/39-Bread_Fruit.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..422552c --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/39-Bread_Fruit.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/40-Basse-Terre.jpg b/6381-h/images/40-Basse-Terre.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..027d2ac --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/40-Basse-Terre.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/41.jpg b/6381-h/images/41.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..40380c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/41.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/42.jpg b/6381-h/images/42.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..527caf4 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/42.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/43.jpg b/6381-h/images/43.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..beca885 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/43.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/44.jpg b/6381-h/images/44.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1561067 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/44.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/45.jpg b/6381-h/images/45.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a255ab5 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/45.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/46.jpg b/6381-h/images/46.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..67e2e43 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/46.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/Avenue_Georgetown.jpg b/6381-h/images/Avenue_Georgetown.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..15c5b0f --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/Avenue_Georgetown.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/Departure_Steamer.jpg b/6381-h/images/Departure_Steamer.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ad00d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/Departure_Steamer.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/Ti_Canot.jpg b/6381-h/images/Ti_Canot.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c6329a --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/Ti_Canot.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/frontispiece.jpg b/6381-h/images/frontispiece.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fcdf5c --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/frontispiece.jpg diff --git a/6381-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/6381-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4207a2b --- /dev/null +++ b/6381-h/images/titlepage.jpg |
