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. "_Missie_," she says, "_lezhe pa aen pou moin: c'est minitt ka foute moin yon travail!_"--the hours do not give her any trouble; but the minutes are a frightful bore! And nevertheless, Cyrillia is punctual as the sun;--she always brings my coffee and a slice of corossol at five in the morning precisely. Her clock is the _cabritt-bois_. The great cricket stops singing, she says, at half-past four: the cessation of its chant awakens her.

--"_Bonjou', Missie. Coument ou pa.s.se lanuitt?_"--"Thanks, my daughter, I slept well."--"The weather is beautiful: if Missie would like to go to the beach, his bathing-towels are ready."--"Good! Cyrillia; I will go."... Such is our regular morning conversation.

n.o.body breakfasts before eleven o'clock or thereabout; but after an early sea-bath, one is apt to feel a little hollow during the morning, unless one take some sort of refreshment. Cyrillia always prepares something for me on my return from the beach,--either a little pot of fresh cocoa-water, or a _cocoyage_, or a _mabiyage_, or a _bavaroise_.

The _cocoyage_ I like the best of all. Cyrillia takes a green cocoa-nut, slices off one side of it so as to open a hole, then pours the opalescent water into a bowl, adds to it a fresh egg, a little Holland gin, and some grated nutmeg and plenty of sugar. Then she whips up the mixture into effervescence with her _baton-lele_. The _baton-lele_ is an indispensaple article in every creole home: it is a thin stick which is cut from a young tree so as to leave at one end a whorl of branch-stumps sticking out at right angles like spokes;--by twirling the stem between the hands, the stumps whip up the drink in a moment.

The _mabiyage_ is less agreeable, but is a popular morning drink among the poorer cla.s.ses. It is made with a little white rum and a bottle of the bitter native root-beer called _mabi_. The taste of _mabi_ I can only describe as that of mola.s.ses and water flavored with a little cinchona bark.

The _bavaroise_ is fresh milk, sugar, and a little Holland gin or rum,--mixed with the baton-lele until a fine thick foam is formed.

After the _cocoyage_, I think it is the best drink one can take in the morning; but very little spirit must be used for any of these mixtures.

It is not until just before the mid-day meal that one can venture to take a serious stimulant,--_yon ti ponch_,--rum and water, sweetened with plenty of sugar or sugar syrup.

The word _sucre_ is rarely used in Martinique,--considering that sugar is still the chief product;--the word _doux_, "sweet," is commonly subst.i.tuted for it. _Doux_ has, however, a larger range of meaning: it may signify syrup, or any sort of sweets,--duplicated into _doudoux_, it means the corossole fruit as well as a sweetheart. _ca qui le doudoux?_ is the cry of the corossole-seller. If a negro asks at a grocery store (_graisserie_) for _sique_ instead of for _doux_, it is only because he does not want it to be supposed that he means syrup;--as a general rule, he will only use the word _sique_ when referring to quality of sugar wanted, or to sugar in hogsheads. _Doux_ enters into domestic consumption in quite remarkable ways. People put sugar into fresh milk, English porter, beer, and cheap wine;--they cook various vegetables with sugar, such as peas; they seem to be particularly fond of sugar-and-water and of _d'leau-pain_,--bread-and-water boiled, strained, mixed with sugar, and flavored with cinnamon. The stranger gets accustomed to all this sweetness without evil results. In a northern climate the consequence would probably be at least a bilious attack; but in the tropics, where salt fish and fruits are popularly preferred to meat, the prodigal use of sugar or sugar-syrups appears to be decidedly beneficial.

... After Cyrillia has prepared my _cocoyage_, and rinsed the bathing-towels in fresh-water, she is ready to go to market, and wants to know what I would like to eat for breakfast. "Anything creole, Cyrillia;--I want to know what people eat in this country." She always does her best to please me in this respect,--almost daily introduces me to some unfamiliar dishes, something odd in the way of fruit or fish.

II.

Cyrillia has given me a good idea of the range and character of _mange-Creole_, and I can venture to write something about it after a year's observation. By _mange-Creole_ I refer only to the food of the people proper, the colored population; for the _cuisine_ of the small cla.s.s of wealthy whites is chiefly European, and devoid of local interest:--I might observe, however, that the fas.h.i.+on of cooking is rather Provencal than Parisian;--rather of southern than of northern France.

Meat, whether fresh or salt, enters little into the nourishment of the poorer cla.s.ses. This is partly, no doubt, because of the cost of all meats; but it is also due to natural preference for fruits and fish. When fresh meat is purchased, it is usually to make a stew or _daube_;--probably salt meats are more popular; and native vegetables and manioc flour are preferred to bread. There are only two popular soups which are peculiar to the creole cuisine,--_calalou_, a gombo soup, almost precisely similar to that of Louisiana; and the _soupe-d'habitant_, or "country soup." It is made of yams, carrots, bananas, turnips, _choux-carabes_, pumpkins, salt pork, and pimento, all boiled together;--the salt meat being left out of the composition on Fridays.

The great staple, the true meat of the population, is salt codfish, which is prepared in a great number of ways. The most popular and the rudest preparation of it is called "Ferocious" (_feroce_); 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 coa.r.s.e oatmeal; and is probably quite as nouris.h.i.+ng. Even when dear as bread, it is preferred, and forms the flour of the population, by whom the word _farine_ is only used to signify manioc flour: if wheat-flour be referred to it is always qualified as "French flour" (_farine-Fouance_). Although certain flours are regularly advertised as American in the local papers, they are still _farine-Fouance_ for the population, who call everything foreign French.

American beer is _bie-Fouance_; American canned peas, _ti-pois-Fouance_; any white foreigner who can talk French is _yon beke-Fouance_.

Usually the manioc flour is eaten uncooked: [49] merely poured into a plate, with a little water and stirred with a spoon into a thick paste or mush,--the thicker the better;--_dleau pa.s.se farine_ (more water than manioc flour) is a saying which describes the condition of a very dest.i.tute person. When not served with fish, the flour is occasionally mixed with water and refined mola.s.ses (_sirop-battrie_): this preparation, which is very nice, is called _cousscaye_. There is also a way of boiling it with mola.s.ses and milk into a kind of pudding. This is called _matete_; children are very fond of it. Both of these names, _cousscaye_ and _matete_, are alleged to be of Carib origin: the art of preparing the flour itself from manioc root is certainly an inheritance from the Caribs, who bequeathed many singular words to the creole patois of the French West Indies.

Of all the preparations of codfish with which manioc flour is eaten, I preferred the _lamori-bouilli_,--the fish boiled plain, after having been steeped long enough to remove the excess of salt; and then served with plenty of olive-oil and pimento. The people who have no home of their own, or at least no place to cook, can buy their food already prepared from the _machannes lapacotte_, who seem to make a specialty of _macadam_ (codfish stewed with rice) and the other two dishes already referred to. But in every colored family there are occasional feasts of _lamori-au-laitt_, codfish stewed with milk and potatoes; _lamori-au-grattin_, codfish boned, pounded with toast crumbs, and boiled with b.u.t.ter, onions, and pepper into a mush;--_coubouyon-lamori_, codfish stewed with b.u.t.ter and oil;--_bachamelle_, codfish boned and stewed with potatoes, pimentos, oil, garlic, and b.u.t.ter.

_Pimento_ is an essential accompaniment to all these dishes, whether it be cooked or raw: everything is served with plenty of pimento,-_en pile_, _en pile piment._ Among the various kinds I can mention only the _piment-cafe_, or "coffee-pepper," larger but about the same shape as a grain of Liberian coffee, violet-red at one end; the _piment-zoueseau_, or bird-pepper, small and long and scarlet;--and the _piment-capresse_, very large, pointed at one end, and bag-shaped at the other. It takes a very deep red color when ripe, and is so strong that if you only break the pod in a room, the sharp perfume instantly fills the apartment.

Unless you are as well-trained as any Mexican to eat pimento, you will probably regret your first encounter with the _capresse_.

Cyrillia told me a story about this infernal vegetable.

II

ZHISTOUe PIMENT.

Te ni yon manman qui te ni en pile, en pile yche; et yon jou y pa te ni aen pou y te baill yche-la mange. Y te ka leve bon matin-la sans yon sou: y pa sa ca y te doue fai,--la y te ke baill latete. Y alle lacae macoume-y, raconte lapeine-y. Macoume baill y toua chopine farine-manioc. Y alle lacaill liautt macoume, qui baill y yon grand trai piment. Macoume-la di y venne trai-piment-a, epi y te pe achete lamori,--p.i.s.se y ja te ni farine. Madame-la di: "Meci, macoume;"--y di y bonjou'; epi y alle lacae-y.

Lhe y rive acae y lime dife: y mette canari epi dleau a.s.sous dife-a; epi y ca.s.se toutt piment-la et mette yo adans canari-a a.s.sous dire.

Lhe y oue canari-a ka bou, y pouend _baton-lele_, epi y lele piment-a: aloss y ka fai yonne calalou-piment. Lhe calalou-piment-la te tchouitt, y pouend chaque za.s.siett yche-li; y mette calalou yo fouete dans za.s.siett-la; y mette ta-mari fouete, a.s.sou, epi ta-y. epi lhe calalou-la te bien fouete, y mette farine nans chaque za.s.siett-la. epi y crie toutt moune vini mange. Toutt moune vini mette yo a-tabe.

Pouemie bouchee mari-a pouend, y rete,--y crie: "Ae! ouaill! mafenm!"

Fenm-la reponne mari y: "Ouaill! monmari!" Ces ti manmaille-la crie: "Ouaill! manman!" Manman-a. reponne:--"Ouaill! yches-moin!"... Yo toutt pouend couri, quitte cae-la sele,--epi yo toutt tombe larvie a touempe bouche yo. Ces ti manmaille-la boue dleau sitellement jusse temps yo toutt neye: te ka rete anni manman-la epi papa-la. Yo te la b larivie, qui te ka pleire. Moin te ka pa.s.se a lhe-a;--moin ka mande yo: "ca zautt ni?"

Nhomme-la leve: y baill moin yon sele coup d'pie, y voye moin lautt bo larivie-ou oue moin vini pou conte ca ba ou.

II.

PIMENTO STORY.

There was once a mamma who had ever so many children; and one day she had nothing to give those children to eat. She had got up very early that morning, without a sou in the world: she did not know what to do: she was so worried that her head was upset. She went to the house of a woman-friend, and told her about her trouble. The friend gave her three _chopines_ [three pints] of manioc flour. Then she went to the house of another female friend, who gave her a big trayful of pimentos. The friend told her to sell that tray of pimentos: then she could buy some codfish,--since she already had some manioc flour. The good-wife said: "Thank you, _macoume_,"--she bid her good-day, and then went to her own house.

The moment she got home, she made a fire, and put her _canari_ [earthen pot] full of water on the fire to boil: then she broke up all the pimentos and put them into the canari on the fire.

As soon as she saw the canari boiling, she took her _baton-lele_, and beat up all those pimentos: then she made a _pimento-calalou_. When the pimento-calalou was well cooked, she took each one of the children's plates, and poured their calalou into the plates to cool it; she also put her husband's out to cool, and her own. And when the calalou was quite cool, she put some manioc flour into each of the plates. Then she called to everybody to come and eat. They all came, and sat down to table.

The first mouthful that husband took he stopped and screamed:--"_Ae!

ouaill!_ my wife!" The woman answered her husband: "_Ouaill_! my husband!" The little children all screamed: "_Ouaill!_ mamma!" Their mamma answered: "_Ouaill!_ my children!"... They all ran out, left the house empty; and they tumbled into the river to steep their mouths.

Those little children just drank water and drank water till they were all drowned: there was n.o.body left except the mamma and the papa, They stayed there on the river-bank, and cried. I was pa.s.sing that way just at that time;--I asked them: "What ails you people?" That man got up and gave me just one kick that sent me right across the river; I came here at once, as you see, to tell you all about it....

IV.

... It is no use for me to attempt anything like a detailed description of the fish Cyrillia brings me day after day from the Place du Fort: the variety seems to be infinite. I have learned, however, one curious fact which is worth noting: that, as a general rule, the more beautifully colored fish are the least palatable, and are sought after only by the poor. The _perroquet_, black, with bright bands of red and yellow; the _cirurgien_, blue and black; the _patate_, yellow and black; the _moringue_, which looks like polished granite; the _souri_, pink and yellow; the vermilion _Gouos-zie_; the rosy _sade_; the red _Bon-Die-manie-moin_ ("the-Good-G.o.d-handled-me")--it has two queer marks as of great fingers; and the various kinds of all-blue fish, _balaou_, _conliou_, etc. varying from steel-color to violet,--these are seldom seen at the tables of the rich. There are exceptions, of course, to this and all general rules: notably the _couronne_, pink spotted beautifully with black,--a sort of Redfish, which never sells less than fourteen cents a pound; and the _zorphie_, which has exquisite changing lights of nacreous green and purple. It is said, however, that the zorphi is sometimes poisonous, like the _becunne_; and there are many fish which, although not venomous by nature, have always been considered dangerous.

In the time of Pere 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 s.h.i.+ps. The _tazard_, the _lune_, the _capitaine_, the _dorade_, the _perroquet_, the _couliou_, the _congre_, various crabs, and even the _tonne_,--all are dangerous unless perfectly fresh: the least decomposition seems to develop a mysterious poison. A singular phenomenon regarding the poisoning occasionally produced by the becunne and dorade is that the skin peels from the hands and feet of those lucky enough to survive the terrible colics, burnings, itchings, and delirium, which are early symptoms, Happily these accidents are very rare, since the markets have been properly inspected: in the time of Dr. Rufz, they would seem to have been very common,--so common that he tells us he would not eat fresh fish without being perfectly certain where it was caught and how long it had been out of the water.

The poor buy the brightly colored fish only when the finer qualities are not obtainable at low rates; but often and often the catch is so enormous that half of it has to be thrown back into the sea. In the hot moist air, fish decomposes very rapidly; it is impossible to transport it to any distance into the interior; and only the inhabitants of the coast can indulge in fresh fish,--at least sea-fish.

Naturally, among the laboring cla.s.s the question of quality is less important than that of quant.i.ty and substance, unless the fish-market be extraordinarily well stocked. Of all fresh fish, the most popular is the _tonne_, a great blue-gray creature whose flesh is solid as beef; next come in order of preferment the flying-fish (_volants_), which often sell as low as four for a cent;--then the _lambi_, or sea-snail, which has a very dense and nutritious flesh;--then the small whitish fish cla.s.sed as _sadines_;--then the blue-colored fishes according to price, _couliou_, _balaou_, etc.;--lastly, the shark, which sells commonly at two cents a pound. Large sharks are not edible; the flesh is too hard; but a young shark is very good eating indeed. Cyrillia cooked me a slice one morning: it was quite delicate, tasted almost like veal.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD MARKET-PLACE OF THE FORT, ST. PIERRE.--(REMOVED IN 1888).]

The quant.i.ty of very small fish sold is surprising. With ten sous the family of a laborer can have a good fish-dinner: a pound of _sadines_ 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 quant.i.ty--enough for four or five individuals.

The _sadines_ are roasted over a charcoal fire, and flavored with a sauce of lemon, pimento, and garlic. When there are no _sadines_, there are sure to be _coulious_ in plenty,--small _coulious_ about as long as your little finger: these are more delicate, and fetch double the price.

With four sous' worth of _coulious_ a family can have a superb _blaffe_.

To make a _blaffe_ the fish are cooked in water, and served with pimento, lemon, spices, onions, and garlic; but without oil or b.u.t.ter.

Experience has demonstrated that _coulious_ make the best _blaffe_; and a _blaffe_ is seldom prepared with other fish.

V.

There are four dishes which are the holiday luxuries of the poor:--_manicou_, _ver-palmiste_, _zandouille_, and _poule-epi-diri_.

[50]

The _manitou_ is a brave little marsupial, which might be called the opossum of Martinique: it fights, although overmatched, with the serpent, and is a great enemy to the field-rat. In the market a manicou sells for two francs and a half at cheapest: it is generally salted before being cooked.