Part 26

Then came the general colonial crash!... You cannot see its results without feeling touched by them. Everywhere the weird beauty, the immense melancholy of tropic ruin. Magnificent terraces, once golden with cane, now abandoned to weeds and serpents;--deserted plantation-homes, with trees rooted in the apartments and pushing up through the place of the roofs;--grass-grown alleys ravined by rains;--fruit-trees strangled by lianas;--here and there the stem of some splendid palmiste, brutally decapitated, naked as a mast;--petty frail growths of banana-trees or of bamboo slowly taking the place of century-old forest giants destroyed to make charcoal. But beauty enough remains to tell what the sensual paradise of the old days must have been, when sugar was selling at 52.

And the fille-de-couleur has also changed. She is much less humble and submissive,--somewhat more exacting: she comprehends better the moral injustice of her position. The almost extreme physical refinement and delicacy, bequeathed to her by the freedwomen of the old regime, are passing away: like a conservatory plant deprived of its shelter, she is returning to a more primitive condition,--hardening and growing perhaps less comely as well as less helpless. She perceives also in a vague way the peril of her race: the creole white, her lover and protector, is emigrating;--the domination of the black becomes more and more probable. Furthermore, with the continual increase of the difficulty of living, and the growing pressure of population, social cruelties and hatreds have been developed such as her ancestors never knew. She is still loved; but it is alleged that she rarely loves the white, no matter how large the sacrifices made for her sake, and she no longer enjoys that reputation of fidelity accorded to her class in other years. Probably the truth is that the fille-de-couleur never had at any time capacity to bestow that quality of affection imagined or exacted as a right. Her moral side is still half savage: her feelings are still those of a child. If she does not love the white man according to his unreasonable desire, it is certain at least that she loves him as well as he deserves. Her alleged demoralization is more apparent than real;--she is changing from an artificial to a very natural being, and revealing more and more in her sufferings the true character of the luxurious social condition that brought her into existence. As a general rule, even while questioning her fidelity, the creole freely confesses her kindness of heart, and grants her capable of extreme generosity and devotedness to strangers or to children whom she has an opportunity to care for. Indeed, her natural kindness is so strikingly in contrast with the harder and subtler character of the men of color that one might almost feel tempted to doubt if she belong to the same race. Said a creole once, in my hearing:--"The gens-de-couleur are just like the _tourtouroux_:[48] one must pick out the females and leave the males alone." Although perhaps capable of a double meaning, his words were not lightly uttered;--he referred to the curious but indubitable fact that the character of the colored woman appears in many respects far superior to that of the colored man. In order to understand this, one must bear in mind the difference in the colonial history of both sexes; and a citation from General Romanet,[49] who visited Martinique at the end of the last century, offers a clue to the mystery. Speaking of the tax upon enfranchisement, he writes:--

--"The governor appointed by the sovereign delivers the certificates of liberty,--on payment by the master of a sum usually equivalent to the value of the subject. Public interest frequently justifies him in making the price of the slave proportionate to the desire or the interest manifested by the master. It can be readily understood that the tax upon the liberty of the women ought to be higher than that of the men: the latter unfortunates having no greater advantage than that of being useful;--the former know how to please: they have those rights and privileges which the whole world allows to their sex; they know how to make even the fetters of slavery serve them for adornments. They may be seen placing upon their proud tyrants the same chains worn by themselves, and making them kiss the marks left thereby: the master becomes the slave, and purchases another's liberty only to lose his own."

Long before the time of General Romanet, the colored male slave might win liberty as the guerdon of bravery in fighting against foreign invasion, or might purchase it by extraordinary economy, while working as a mechanic on extra time for his own account (he always refused to labor with negroes); but in either case his success depended upon the possession and exercise of qualities the reverse of amiable. On the other hand, the bondwoman won manumission chiefly through her power to excite affection. In the survival and perpetuation of the fittest of both sexes these widely different characteristics would obtain more and more definition with successive generations.

I find in the "Bulletin des Actes Administratifs de la Martinique" for 1831 (No. 41) a list of slaves to whom liberty was accorded _pour services rendus à leurs maîtres_. Out of the sixty-nine enfranchisements recorded under this head, there are only two names of male adults to be found,--one an old man of sixty;--the other, called Laurencin, the betrayer of a conspiracy. The rest are young girls, or young mothers and children;--plenty of those singular and pretty names in vogue among the creole population,--Acélie, Avrillette, Mélie, Robertine, Célianne, Francillette, Adée, Catharinette, Sidollie, Céline, Coraline;--and the ages given are from sixteen to twenty-one, with few exceptions. Yet these liberties were asked for and granted at a time when Louis Philippe had abolished the tax on manumissions.... The same "Bulletin" contains a list of liberties granted to colored men, _pour service accompli dans la milice_, only!

Most of the French West Indian writers whose works I was able to obtain and examine speak severely of the _hommes-de-couleur_ as a class,--in some instances the historian writes with a very violence of hatred. As far back as the commencement of the eighteenth century, Labat, who, with all his personal oddities, was undoubtedly a fine judge of men, declared:--"The mulattoes are as a general rule well made, of good stature, vigorous, strong, adroit, industrious, and daring (_hardis_) beyond all conception. They have much vivacity, but are given to their pleasures, fickle, proud, deceitful (_cachés_), wicked, and capable of the greatest crimes." A San Domingo historian, far more prejudiced than Père Labat, speaks of them "as physically superior, though morally inferior to the whites": he wrote at a time when the race had given to the world the two best swordsmen it has yet perhaps seen,--Saint-Georges and Jean-Louis.

Commenting on the judgment of Père Labat, the historian Borde observes:--"The wickedness spoken of by Père Labat doubtless relates to their political passions only; for the women of color are, beyond any question, the best and sweetest persons in the world--_à coup sûr, les meilleures et les plus douces personnes qu'il y ait au monde_."--("Histoire de l'Ile de la Trinidad," par M. Pierre Gustave Louis Borde, vol. I., p. 222.) The same author, speaking of their goodness of heart, generosity to strangers and the sick says "they are born Sisters of Charity";--and he is not the only historian who has expressed such admiration of their moral qualities. What I myself saw during the epidemic of 1887-88 at Martinique convinced me that these eulogies of the women of color are not extravagant. On the other hand, the existing creole opinion of the men of color is much less favorable than even that expressed by Père Labat. Political events and passions have, perhaps, rendered a just estimate of their qualities difficult. The history of the _hommes-de-couleur_ in all the French colonies has been the same;--distrusted by the whites, who feared their aspirations to social equality, distrusted even more by the blacks (who still hate them secretly, although ruled by them), the mulattoes became an Ishmaelitish clan, inimical to both races, and dreaded of both. In Martinique it was attempted, with some success, to manage them by according freedom to all who would serve in the militia for a certain period with credit. At no time was it found possible to compel them to work with blacks; and they formed the whole class of skilled city workmen and mechanics for a century prior to emancipation.

... To-day it cannot be truly said of the _fille-de-couleur_ that her existence is made up of "love, laughter, and forgettings." She has aims in life,--the bettering of her condition, the higher education of her children, whom she hopes to free from the curse of prejudice. She still clings to the white, because through him she may hope to improve her position. Under other conditions she might even hope to effect some sort of reconciliation between the races. But the gulf has become so much widened within the last forty years, that no rapprochement now appears possible; and it is perhaps too late even to restore the lost prosperity of the colony by any legislative or commercial reforms. The universal creole belief is summed up in the daily-repeated cry: "_C'est un pays perdu!_" Yearly the number of failures increase; and more whites emigrate;--and with every bankruptcy or departure some fille-de-couleur is left almost destitute, to begin life over again. Many a one has been rich and poor several times in succession;--one day her property is seized for debt;--perhaps on the morrow she finds some one able and willing to give her a home again... Whatever comes, she does not die for grief, this daughter of the sun: she pours out her pain in song, like a bird, Here is one of her little improvisations,--a song very popular in both Martinique and Guadeloupe, though originally composed in the latter colony:--

--"Good-bye Madras! Good-bye foulard! Good-bye pretty calicoes! Good-bye collier-choux! That ship Which is there on the buoy, It is taking My doudoux away."

--"Adiéu Madras! Adiéu foulard! Adiéu dézinde! Adiéu collier-choux! Batiment-là Qui sou labouè-là, Li ka mennein Doudoux-à-moin allé."

--"Very good-day,-- Monsieur the Consignee. I come To make one little petition. My doudoux Is going away. Alas! I pray you Delay his going."

--"Bien le-bonjou', Missié le Consignataire. Moin ka vini Fai yon ti pétition; Doudoux-à-moin Y ka pati,--T'enprie, hélas! Rétàdé li."

[He answers kindly in French: the _békés_ are always kind to these gentle children.]

--"My dear child, It is too late. The bills of lading Are already signed; The ship Is already on the buoy. In an hour from now They will be getting her under way."

--"Ma chère enfant Il est trop tard, Les connaissements Sont déjà signés, Est déjà sur la bouée; Dans une heure d'ici, Ils vont appareiller."

--"When the foulards came.... I always had some; When the Madras-kerchiefs came, I always had some; When the printed calicoes came, I always had some. ... That second officer--Is such a kind man!"

--"Foulard rivé, Moin té toujou tini; Madras rivé, Moin té toujou tini; Dézindes rivé, Moin té toujou tini.--Capitaine sougonde C'est yon bon gàçon!"

"Everybody has Somebody to love; Everybody has Somebody to pet; Every body has A sweetheart of her own. I am the only one Who cannot have that,--I!"

"Toutt moune tini Yon moune yo aimé; Toutt moune tini Yon moune yo chéri; Toutt moune tini Yon doudoux à yo. Jusse moin tou sèle Pa tini ça--moin!"

... On the eve of the _Fête Dieu_, or Corpus Christi festival, in all these Catholic countries, the city streets are hung with banners and decorated with festoons and with palm branches; and great altars are erected at various points along the route of the procession, to serve as resting-places for the Host. These are called _reposoirs_; in creole patois, "_reposouè Bon-Dié_." Each wealthy man lends something to help to make them attractive,--rich plate, dainty crystal, bronzes, paintings, beautiful models of ships or steamers, curiosities from remote parts of the world.... The procession over, the altar is stripped, the valuables are returned to their owners: all the splendor disappears.... And the spectacle of that evanescent magnificence, repeated year by year, suggested to this proverb-loving people a similitude for the unstable fortune of the fille-de-couleur:--_Fortune milatresse c'est reposouè Bon-Dié_. (The luck of the mulattress is the resting-place of the Good-God).

[Footnote 46: _La race de sang-mêlé, issue des blancs et des noirs, est éminement civilizable. Comme types physiques, elle fournit dans beaucoup d'individus, dans ses femmes en général, les plus beaux specimens de la race humaine_.--"Le Préjugé de Race aux Antilles Françaises." Par G. Souquet-Basiège. St. Pierre, Martinique: 1883. pp. 661-62.]

[Footnote 47: Turiault: "Étude sur le langage Créole de la Martinique." Brest: 1874.... On page 136 he cites the following pretty verses in speaking of the _fille-de-couleur_:--

L'Amour prit soin de la former Tendre, naïve, et caressante. Faite pour plaire, encore plus pour aimer. Portant tous les traits précieux Du caractère d'une amante. Le plaisir sur sa bouche et l'amour dans set yeux.]

[Footnote 48: A sort of land-crab;--the female is selected for food, and, properly cooked, makes a delicious dish;--the male is almost worthless.]

[Footnote 49: "Voyage à la Martinique," Par J. R., Général de Brigade. Paris: An. XII., 1804. Page 106.]

BÊTE-NI-PIÉ

I

St. Pierre is in one respect fortunate beyond many tropical cities;--she has scarcely any mosquitoes, although there are plenty of mosquitoes in other parts of Martinique, even in the higher mountain villages. The flood of bright water that pours perpetually through all her streets, renders her comparatively free from the pest;--nobody sleeps under a mosquito bar.

Nevertheless, St. Pierre is not exempt from other peculiar plagues of tropical life; and you cannot be too careful about examining your bed before venturing to lie down, and your clothing before you dress;--for various disagreeable things might be hiding in them: a spider large as a big crab, or a scorpion or a _mabouya_ or a centipede,--or certain large ants whose bite burns like the pricking of a red-hot needle. No one who has lived in St. Pierre is likely to forget the ants.... There are three or four kinds in every house;--the _fourmi fou_ (mad ant), a little speckled yellowish creature whose movements are so rapid as to delude the vision; the great black ant which allows itself to be killed before it lets go what it has bitten; the venomous little red ant, which is almost too small to see; and the small black ant which does not bite at all,--are usually omnipresent, and appear to dwell together in harmony. They are pests in kitchens, cupboards, and safes; but they are scavengers. It is marvellous to see them carrying away the body of a great dead roach or centipede,--pulling and pushing together like trained laborers, and guiding the corpse over obstacles or around them with extraordinary skill.... There was a time when ants almost destroyed the colony,--in 1751. The plantations, devastated by them are described by historians as having looked as if desolated by fire. Underneath the ground in certain places, layers of their eggs two inches deep were found extending over acres. Infants left unwatched in the cradle for a few hours were devoured alive by them. Immense balls of living ants were washed ashore at the same time on various parts of the coast (a phenomenon repeated within the memory of creoles now living in the north-east parishes). The Government vainly offered rewards for the best means of destroying the insects; but the plague gradually disappeared as it came.

None of these creatures can be prevented from entering a dwelling;--you may as well resign yourself to the certainty of meeting with them from time to time. The great spiders (with the exception of those which are hairy) need excite no alarm or disgust;--indeed they are suffered to live unmolested in many houses, partly owing to a belief that they bring good-luck, and partly because they destroy multitudes of those enormous and noisome roaches which spoil whatever they cannot eat. The scorpion is less common; but it has a detestable habit of lurking under beds; and its bite communicates a burning fever. With far less reason, the mabouya is almost equally feared. It is a little lizard about six inches long, and ashen-colored;--it haunts only the interior of houses, while the bright-green lizards dwell only upon the roofs. Like other reptiles of the same order, the mabouya can run over or cling to polished surfaces; and there is a popular belief that if frightened, it will leap at one's face or hands and there fasten itself so tightly that it cannot be dislodged except by cutting it to pieces. Moreover, it's feet are supposed to have the power of leaving certain livid and ineffaceable marks upon the skin of the person to whom it attaches itself:--_ça ka ba ou lota_, say the colored people. Nevertheless, there is no creature more timid and harmless than the mabouya.

But the most dreaded and the most insolent invader of domestic peace is the centipede. The water system of the city banished the mosquito; but it introduced the centipede into almost every dwelling. St. Pierre has a plague of centipedes. All the covered drains, the gutters, the crevices of fountain-basins and bathing-basins, the spaces between floor and ground, shelter centipedes. And the _bête à-mille-pattes_ is the terror of the barefooted population:--scarcely a day passes that some child or bonne or workman is not bitten by the creature.

The sight of a full-grown centipede is enough to affect a strong set of nerves. Ten to eleven inches is the average length of adults; but extraordinary individuals much exceeding this dimension may be sometimes observed in the neighborhood of distilleries (_rhommeries_) and sugar-refineries. According to age, the color of the creature varies from yellowish to black;--the younger ones often have several different tints; the old ones are uniformly jet-black, and have a carapace of surprising toughness,--difficult to break. If you tread, by accident or design, upon the tail, the poisonous head will instantly curl back and bite the foot through any ordinary thickness of upper-leather.

As a general rule the centipede lurks about the court-yards, foundations, and drains by preference; but in the season of heavy rains he does not hesitate to move upstairs, and make himself at home in parlors and bed-rooms. He has a provoking habit of nestling in your _moresques_ or your _chinoises_,--those wide light garments you put on before taking your siesta or retiring for the night. He also likes to get into your umbrella,--an article indispensable in the tropics; and you had better never open it carelessly. He may even take a notion to curl himself up in your hat, suspended on the wall. (I have known a trigonocephalus to do the same thing in a country-house). He has also a singular custom of mounting upon the long trailing dresses (douillettes) worn by Martinique women,--and climbing up very swiftly and lightly to the wearer's neck, where the prickling of his feet first betrays his presence. Sometimes he will get into bed with you and bite you, because you have not resolution enough to lie perfectly still while he is tickling you.... It is well to remember before dressing that merely shaking a garment may not dislodge him;--you must examine every part very patiently,--particularly the sleeves of a coat and the legs of pantaloons.

The vitality of the creature is amazing. I kept one in a bottle without food or water for thirteen weeks, at the end of which time it remained active and dangerous as ever. Then I fed it with living insects, which it devoured ravenously;--beetles, roaches, earthworms, several _lepismaoe_, even one of the dangerous-looking millepedes, which have a great resemblance in outward structure to the centipede, but a thinner body, and more numerous limbs,--all seemed equally palatable to the prisoner.... I knew an instance of one, nearly a foot long, remaining in a silk parasol for more than four months, and emerging unexpectedly one day, with aggressiveness undiminished, to bite the hand that had involuntarily given it deliverance.

In the city the centipede has but one natural enemy able to cope with him,--the hen! The hen attacks him with delight, and often swallows him, head first, without taking the trouble to kill him. The cat hunts him, but she is careful never to put her head near him;--she has a trick of whirling him round and round upon the floor so quickly as to stupefy him: then, when she sees a good chance, she strikes him dead with her claws. But if you are fond of your cat you will let her run no risks, as the bite of a large centipede might have very bad results for your pet. Its quickness of movement demands all the quickness of even the cat for self-defence.... I know of men who have proved themselves able to seize a fer-de-lance by the tail, whirl it round and round, and then flip it as you would crack a whip,--whereupon the terrible head flies off; but I never heard of anyone in Martinique daring to handle a living centipede.

There are superstitions concerning the creature which have a good effect in diminishing his tribe. If you kill a centipede, you are sure to receive money soon; and even if you dream of killing one it is good-luck. Consequently, people are glad of any chance to kill centipedes,--usually taking a heavy stone or some iron utensil for the work;--a wooden stick is not a good weapon. There is always a little excitement when a _bête-ni-pié_ (as the centipede is termed in the patois) exposes itself to death; and you may often hear those who kill it uttering a sort of litany of abuse with every blow, as if addressing a human enemy:--"_Quitté moin tchoué ou, maudi!--quitté moin tchoué ou, scelerat!--quitté moin tchoué ou, Satan!--quitté moin tchoué ou, abonocio!_" etc. (Let me kill you, accursed! scoundrel! Satan! abomination!)

The patois term for the centipede is not a mere corruption of the French _bête-à-mille-pattes_. Among a population of slaves, unable to read or write, [48] there were only the vaguest conceptions of numerical values; and the French term bête-à-mille-pattes was not one which could appeal to negro imagination. The slaves themselves invented an equally vivid name, _bête-anni-pié_ (the Beast-which-is-all-feet); _anni_ in creole signifying "only," and in such a sense "all." Abbreviated by subsequent usage to _bête-'ni-pié_, the appellation has amphibology;--for there are two words _ni_ in the patois, one signifying "to have," and the other "naked." So that the creole for a centipede might be translated in three ways,--"the Beast-which-is-all-feet"; or, "the Naked-footed Beast"; or, with fine irony of affirmation, "the Beast-which-has-feet."

[Footnote 50: According to the Martinique "Annuaire" for 1887, there were even then, out of a total population of 173,182, no less than 125,366 unable to read and write.]

II