I
Whoever stops for a few months in St. Pierre is certain, sooner or
later, to pass an idle half-hour in that charming place of Martinique
idlers,--the beautiful Savane du Fort,--and, once there, is equally
certain to lean a little while over the mossy parapet of the river-wall
to watch the _blanchisseuses_ at work. It has a curious interest, this
spectacle of primitive toil: the deep channel of the Roxelane winding
under the palm-crowned heights of the Fort; the blinding whiteness of
linen laid out to bleach for miles upon the huge bowlders of porphyry
and prismatic basalt; and the dark bronze-limbed women, with faces
hidden under immense straw hats, and knees in the rushing torrent,--all
form a scene that makes one think of the earliest civilizations. Even
here, in this modern colony, it is nearly three centuries old; and it
will probably continue thus at the Rivière des Blanchisseuses for fully
another three hundred years. Quaint as certain weird Breton legends
whereof it reminds you,--especially if you watch it before daybreak
while the city sleeps,--this fashion of washing is not likely to change.
There is a local prejudice against new methods, new inventions, new
ideas;--several efforts at introducing a less savage style of washing
proved unsuccessful; and an attempt to establish a steam-laundry
resulted in failure. The public were quite contented with the old ways
of laundrying, and saw no benefits to be gained by forsaking
them;--while the washers and ironers engaged by the laundry proprietor
at higher rates than they had ever obtained before soon wearied of
in-door work, abandoned their situations, and returned with a sense of
relief to their ancient way of working out in the blue air and the wind
of the hills, with their feet in the mountain-water and their heads in
the awful sun.
... It is one of the sights of St. Pierre,--this daily scene at the
River of the Washerwomen: everybody likes to watch it;--the men,
because among the blanchisseuses there are not a few decidedly
handsome girls; the women, probably because a woman feels always
interested in woman's work. All the white bridges of the Roxelane
are dotted with lookers-on during fine days, and particularly
in the morning, when every bonne on her way to and from the
market stops a moment to observe or to greet those blanchisseuses
whom she knows. Then one hears such a calling and clamoring,--such
an intercrossing of cries from the bridge to the river, and the river
to the bridge.... "Ouill! Noémi!" ... "Coument ou yé, chè?"...
"Eh! Pascaline!"... "Bonjou', Youtte!--Dédé!--Fifi!--Henrillia!"...
"Coument ou kallé, Cyrillia?"... "Toutt douce, chè!--et Ti Mémé?"... "Y
bien;--oti Ninotte?"... "Bo ti manmaille pou moin, chè--ou tanne?"... But
the bridge leading to the market of the Fort is the poorest point of view;
for the better classes of blanchisseuses are not there: only the lazy,
the weak, or non-professionals--house-servants, who do washing at the
river two or three times a month as part of their family-service--are
apt to get so far down. The experienced professionals and early risers
secure the best places and choice of rocks; and among the hundreds at
work you can discern something like a physical gradation. At the next
bridge the women look better, stronger; more young faces appear; and the
further you follow the river-course towards the Jardin des Plantes, the
more the appearance of the blanchisseuses improves,--so that within the
space of a mile you can see well exemplified one natural law of life's
struggle,--the best chances to the best constitutions.
You might also observe, if you watch long enough, that among the
blanchisseuses there are few sufficiently light of color to be classed
as bright mulâtresses;--the majority are black or of that dark
copper-red race which is perhaps superior to the black creole in
strength and bulk; for it requires a skin insensible to sun as well as
the toughest of constitutions to be a blanchisseuse. A porteuse can
begin to make long trips at nine or ten years; but no girl is strong
enough to learn the washing-trade until she is past twelve. The
blanchisseuse is the hardest worker among the whole population;--her
daily labor is rarely less than thirteen hours; and during the greater
part of that time she is working in the sun, and standing up to her
knees in water that descends quite cold from the mountain peaks. Her
labor makes her perspire profusely; and she can never venture to cool
herself by further immersion without serious danger of pleurisy. The
trade is said to kill all who continue at it beyond a certain number of
years:--"_Nou ka mò toutt dleau_" (we all die of the water), one told
me, replying to a question. No feeble or light-skinned person can
attempt to do a single day's work of this kind without danger; and a
weak girl, driven by necessity to do her own washing, seldom ventures to
go to the river. Yet I saw an instance of such rashness one day. A
pretty sang-mêlée, perhaps about eighteen or nineteen years old,--whom
I afterwards learned had just lost her mother and found herself thus
absolutely destitute,--began to descend one of the flights of stone
steps leading to the river, with a small bundle upon her head; and two
or three of the blanchisseuses stopped their work to look at her. A tall
capresse inquired mischievously:--
[Illustration: LES BLANCHISSEUSES
"_Their daily labor is rarely less than thirteen hours,--during
the greater part of the time in the sun and up to
their knees in water that descends quite cold from the
mountain peaks._"]
--"_Ou vini pou pouend yon bain?_" (Coming to take a bath?) For the
river is a great bathing-place.
--"_Non; moin vini lavé._" (No; I am coming to wash.)
--"_Aïe! aïe! aïe!--y vini lavé!_"... And all within hearing laughed
together. "Are you crazy, girl?--_ess ou fou?_" The tall capresse
snatched the bundle from her, opened it, threw a garment to her nearest
neighbor, another to the next one, dividing the work among a little
circle of friends, and said to the stranger, "Non ké lavé toutt ça ba
ou bien vite chè,--va, amisé ou!" (We'll wash this for you very
quickly, dear--go and amuse yourself!) These kind women even did more
for the poor girl;--they subscribed to buy her a good breakfast, when
the food-seller--the màchanne-mangé--made her regular round among
them, with fried fish and eggs and manioc flour and bananas.