Endless Ebook, One Click Away – Start Downloading at ebookname.

com

Théories asymptotiques et équations de Painlevé

Angers juin 2004 1st Edition Eric Delabaere

https://ebookname.com/product/theories-asymptotiques-et-
equations-de-painleve-angers-juin-2004-1st-edition-eric-
delabaere/

OR CLICK HERE

DOWLOAD EBOOK

Browse and Get More Ebook Downloads Instantly at https://ebookname.com

Click here to visit ebookname.com and download ebook now
Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) available
Download now and explore formats that suit you...

The Swan System of the C2 Molecule John G. Phillips

https://ebookname.com/product/the-swan-system-of-the-c2-molecule-
john-g-phillips/

Gibraltar 1779 83 The Great Siege First Edition René

Chartrand

https://ebookname.com/product/gibraltar-1779-83-the-great-siege-
first-edition-rene-chartrand/

TI 83 Plus Graphing Calculator For Dummies 1st Edition

C. C. Edwards

https://ebookname.com/product/ti-83-plus-graphing-calculator-for-
dummies-1st-edition-c-c-edwards/

Consuming Passions and Patterns of Consumption 1st

Edition A Colin Renfrew

https://ebookname.com/product/consuming-passions-and-patterns-of-
consumption-1st-edition-a-colin-renfrew/
This Man 1st edition Edition Malpas Jodi Ellen

https://ebookname.com/product/this-man-1st-edition-edition-
malpas-jodi-ellen/

Chemistry of the Climate System 1st Edition Detlev

Möller

https://ebookname.com/product/chemistry-of-the-climate-
system-1st-edition-detlev-moller/

The Rapper s Handbook A Guide to Freestyling Writing

Rhymes and Battling by Flocabulary 1st Edition Emcee
Escher With Alex Rappaport (Flocabulary)

https://ebookname.com/product/the-rapper-s-handbook-a-guide-to-
freestyling-writing-rhymes-and-battling-by-flocabulary-1st-
edition-emcee-escher-with-alex-rappaport-flocabulary/

Wireless Power Transfer 1st Edition Johnson I. Agbinya

https://ebookname.com/product/wireless-power-transfer-1st-
edition-johnson-i-agbinya/

Researching the Stereotypes of People Around Me An

Introductory Thesis Writing Course for International
Students 1st Edition Stephanie Ann Houghton

https://ebookname.com/product/researching-the-stereotypes-of-
people-around-me-an-introductory-thesis-writing-course-for-
international-students-1st-edition-stephanie-ann-houghton/
Form and forces designing efficient expressive
structures 1st Edition Edward Allen

https://ebookname.com/product/form-and-forces-designing-
efficient-expressive-structures-1st-edition-edward-allen/
Séminaires & Congrès
14, 2006, p. 1–20

SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI

by

Philip Boalch

Abstract. — After recalling some of the geometry of the sixth Painlevé equation,
we describe how the Okamoto symmetries arise naturally from symmetries of
Schlesinger’s equations and summarise the classification of the Platonic Painlevé six
solutions.
Résumé (Six résultats sur Painlevé VI). — Après quelques rappels sur la géométrie de
la sixième équation de Painlevé, nous expliquons comment les symétries d’Okamoto
résultent de façon naturelle des symétries des équations de Schlesinger et comment
elles conduisent à la classification des solutions platoniques de la sixième équation de
Painlevé.

1. Background
The Painlevé VI equation is a second order nonlinear differential equation which
governs the isomonodromic deformations of linear systems of Fuchsian differential
equations of the form
 
d A1 A2 A3
(1) − + + , Ai ∈ g := sl2 (C)
dz z z−t z−1
as the second pole position t varies in B := P1 \{0, 1, ∞}. (The general case —varying
all four pole positions— reduces to this case using automorphisms of P1 .)
By ‘isomonodromic deformation’ one means that as t varies the linear monodromy
representation
ρ : π1 (P1 \ {0, t, 1, ∞}) → SL2 (C)
of (1) does not change (up to overall conjugation). Of course, this is not quite well-
defined since as t varies one is taking fundamental groups of different four-punctured

2000 Mathematics Subject Classification. — Primary 34M55; Secondary 32S40.

Key words and phrases. — Painlevé VI, Schlesinger equations, monodromy, Okamoto symmetries, pla-
tonic solutions, complex reflections.

c Séminaires et Congrès 14, SMF 2006

2 P. BOALCH

spheres, and it is crucial to understand this in order to understand the global be-
haviour (nonlinear monodromy) of Painlevé VI solutions. For small changes of t there
are canonical isomorphisms between the fundamental groups: if t1 , t2 are in some disk
∆ ⊂ B in the three-punctured sphere then one has a canonical isomorphism
∼ π1 (P1 \ {0, t2 , 1, ∞})
π1 (P1 \ {0, t1 , 1, ∞}) =
coming from the homotopy equivalences
P1 \ {0, t1 , 1, ∞} ,→ {(t, z) ∈ ∆ × P1 z 6= 0, t, 1, ∞} ←- P1 \ {0, t2 , 1, ∞}.
(Here we view the central space as a family of four-punctured spheres parameterised
by t ∈ ∆ and are simply saying that it contracts onto any of its fibres.)
In turn, by taking the space of such ρ’s, i.e., the space of conjugacy classes of SL2 (C)
representations of the above fundamental groups, one obtains canonical isomorphisms:
Hom(π1 (P1 \ {0, t1 , 1, ∞}), G)/G ∼ = Hom(π1 (P1 \ {0, t2 , 1, ∞}), G)/G
where G = SL2 (C). Geometrically this says that the spaces of representations
ft := Hom(π1 (P1 \ {0, t, 1, ∞}), G)/G
M
constitute a ‘local system of varieties’ parameterised by t ∈ B. In other words, the
natural fibration
Mf := {(t, ρ) t ∈ B, ρ ∈ Mft }−→B
over B (whose fibre over t is Mft ) has a natural flat (Ehresmann) connection on it.
Moreover, this connection is complete: over any disk in B any two fibres have a
canonical identification.
To get from here to Painlevé VI (PVI ) one pulls back the connection on the fibre
bundle Mf along the Riemann–Hilbert map and writes down the resulting connection
in certain coordinates. Consequently we see immediately that the monodromy of
PVI solutions corresponds (under the Riemann–Hilbert map) to the monodromy of
the connection on the fibre bundle M f. However, since this connection is flat and
complete, its monodromy is given by the action of the fundamental group of the base
π1 (B) ∼
= F2 (the free group on 2 generators) on a fibre M ft ⊂ M f, which can easily be
written down explicitly.
Before describing this in more detail let us first restrict to linear representations ρ
having local monodromies in fixed conjugacy classes:
ft
Mt := {ρ ∈ M ft
ρ(γi ) ∈ Ci , i = 1, 2, 3, 4} ⊂ M
where Ci ⊂ G are four chosen conjugacy classes, and γi is a simple positive loop
in P1 \ {0, t, 1, ∞} around ai , where (a1 , a2 , a3 , a4 ) = (0, t, 1, ∞) are the four pole
positions. (By convention we assume the loop γ4 · · · γ1 is contractible, and note that
Mt is two-dimensional in general.) The connection on M f restricts to a (complete flat
Ehresmann) connection on the fibration
M := {(t, ρ) t ∈ B, ρ ∈ Mt } → B

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 3

whose fibre over t ∈ B is Mt . The action of F2 = π1 (B) on the fibre Mt (giving

the monodromy of the connection on the bundle M and thus the monodromy of
the corresponding PVI solution) is given explicitly as follows. Let w1 , w2 denote the
generators of F2 , thought of as simple positive loops in B based at 1/2 encircling 0
(resp. 1) once. Then, wi acts on ρ ∈ Mt as the square of ωi where ωi acts by fixing
Mj for j 6= i, i + 1, (1 6 j 6 4) and
−1
(2) ωi (Mi , Mi+1 ) = (Mi+1 , Mi+1 Mi Mi+1 )
where Mj = ρ(γj ) ∈ G is the jth monodromy matrix. Indeed, F2 can naturally be
identified with the pure mapping class group of the four-punctured sphere and this
action comes from its natural action (by push-forward of loops) as outer automor-
phisms of π1 (P1 \ {0, t, 1, ∞}), cf. [5]. (The geometric origins of this action in the
context of isomonodromy can be traced back at least to Malgrange’s work [28] on the
global properties of the Schlesinger equations.)
On the other side of the Riemann–Hilbert correspondence we may choose some
adjoint orbits Oi ⊂ g := sl2 (C) such that
√
exp(2π −1Oi ) = Ci
and construct the space of residues:
n X o
O := O1 × · · · × O4 //G = (A1 , . . . A4 ) ∈ O1 × · · · × O4 Ai = 0 /G

where, on the right-hand side, G is acting by diagonal conjugation: g · (A1 , . . . A4 ) =

(gA1 g −1 , . . . , gA4 g −1 ). This space O is also two-dimensional in general. To construct
a Fuchsian system (1) out of such a four-tuple of residues one must also choose a value
of t, so the total space of linear connections we are interested in is:
M∗ := O × B
and we think of a point (A, t) ∈ M∗ , where A = (A1 , . . . , A4 ), as representing the
linear connection
3
X Ai
∇ = d − Adz, where A = , (a1 , a2 , a3 , a4 ) = (0, t, 1, ∞)
1
z − ai

or equivalently the Fuchsian system (1).

If we think of M∗ as being a (trivial) fibre bundle over B with fibre O then,
provided the residues are sufficiently generic (e.g., if no eigenvalues differ by positive
integers), the Riemann–Hilbert map (taking linear connections to their monodromy
representations) gives a bundle map
ν : M∗ → M.
Written like this the Riemann–Hilbert map ν is a holomorphic map (which is in fact
injective if the eigenvalues are also nonzero cf. e.g., [25, Proposition 2.5] ). We may

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

4 P. BOALCH

then pull-back (restrict) the nonlinear connection on M to give a nonlinear connection

on the bundle M∗ , which we will refer to as the isomonodromy connection.
The remarkable fact is that even though the Riemann–Hilbert map is transcenden-
tal, the connection one obtains in this way is algebraic. Indeed Schlesinger [31] showed
that locally horizontal sections A(t) : B → M∗ are given (up to overall conjugation)
by solutions to the Schlesinger equations:
dA1 [A2 , A1 ] dA2 [A1 , A2 ] [A3 , A2 ] dA3 [A2 , A3 ]
(3) = , = + , =
dt t dt t t−1 dt t−1
which are (nonlinear) algebraic differential equations.
To get from the Schlesinger equations to PVI one proceeds as follows (cf. [24,
Appendix C]). Label the eigenvalues of Ai by ±θi /2 (thus choosing an order of the
eigenvalues or equivalently, if the reader prefers, a quasi-parabolic structure at each
singularity), and suppose A4 is diagonalisable. Conjugate the system so that
A4 = −(A1 + A2 + A3 ) = diag(θ4 , −θ4 )/2
and note that Schlesinger’s equations preserve A4 . Since the top-right matrix entry
of A4 is zero, the top-right matrix entry of
3
X Ai
(4) z(z − 1)(z − t)
1
z − ai
is a degree one polynomial in z. Define y(t) to be the position of its unique zero on
the complex z line.

Theorem -1 (see [24]). — If A(t) satisfies the Schlesinger equations then y(t) satisfies
PVI :
   2  
d2 y 1 1 1 1 dy 1 1 1 dy
= + + − + +
dt2 2 y y − 1 y − t dt t t − 1 y − t dt
 
y(y − 1)(y − t) 2 θ12 t θ32 (t − 1) (1 − θ22 )t(t − 1)
+ (θ4 − 1) − 2 + + .
2 t2 (t − 1)2 y (y − 1)2 (y − t)2
Phrased differently, for each fixed t, the prescription above defines a function y on
O, which makes up half of a system of (canonical) coordinates, defined on a dense
open subset. A conjugate coordinate x can be explicitly defined and one can write the
isomonodromy connection explicitly in the coordinates x, y on O to obtain a coupled
system of first-order nonlinear equations for x(t), y(t) (see [24], where our x is denoted
ze). Then, eliminating x yields the second order equation PVI for y. (One consequence
is that if y solves PVI there is a direct relation between x and the derivative y 0 , as in
equation (6) below.)
In the remainder of this article the main aims are to:
•1) Explain how Okamoto’s affine F4 Weyl group symmetries of PVI arise from
natural symmetries of Schlesinger equations, and

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 5

•2) Describe the classification of the Platonic solutions to PVI (i.e., those solutions
having linear monodromy group equal to the symmetry group of a Platonic
solid).
The key step for •1) (which also led us to •2)) is to use a different realisation of PVI ,
as controlling isomonodromic deformations of certain 3 × 3 Fuchsian systems. Note
that these results have been written down elsewhere, although the explicit formulae of
Remarks 6 and 7 are new and constitute a direct verification of the main results about
the 3×3 Fuchsian realisation. Note also that the construction of the Platonic solutions
has evolved rapidly recently (e.g., since the author’s talk in Angers and since the first
version of [13] appeared). For example, there are now simple explicit formulae for all
the Platonic solutions (something that we had not imagined was possible for a long
time(1) ).

Remark 1. — Let us briefly mention some other possible directions that will not be
discussed further here. Firstly, by describing PVI in this way the author is trying
to emphasise that PVI is the explicit form of the simplest non-abelian Gauss–Manin
connection, in the sense of Simpson [34], thereby putting PVI in a very general context
(propounded further in [9, section 7], especially p. 192). For example, suppose we
replace the above family of four-punctured spheres (over B) by a family of projective
varieties X over a base S, and choose a complex reductive group G. Then (by the
same argument as above), one again has a local system of varieties
MB = Hom(π1 (Xs ), G)/G
over S and one can pull-back along the Riemann–Hilbert map to obtain a flat con-
nection on the corresponding family MDR of moduli spaces of connections. Simpson
proves this connection is again algebraic, and calls it the non-abelian Gauss–Manin
connection, since MB and MDR are two realisations of the first non-abelian cohomol-
ogy group H 1 (Xs , G), the Betti and De Rham realisations.
Also, much of the structure found in the regular (-singular) case may be generalised
to the irregular case. For example, as Jimbo–Miwa–Ueno [25] showed, one can also
consider isomonodromic deformations of (generic) irregular connections on a Riemann
surface and obtain explicit deformation equations in the case of P1 . This can also be
described in terms of nonlinear connections on moduli spaces and there are natural
symplectic structures on the moduli spaces which are preserved by the connections
[9, 7]. Perhaps most interestingly, one obtains extra deformation parameters in the
irregular case (one may vary the ‘irregular type’ of the linear connections as well as
the moduli of the punctured curve). These extra deformation parameters turn out to
be related to quantum Weyl groups [10].

(1) Mainly
because the 18 branch genus one icosahedral solution of [18] took 10 pages to write down
and we knew quite early on that the largest icosahedral solution had genus seven and 72 branches.

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

6 P. BOALCH

As another example, in the regular (-singular) case non-abelian Hodge theory [33]
gives a third “Dolbeault” realisation of H 1 (Xs , G) as a moduli space of Higgs bundles,
closely related to the existence of a hyperKähler structure on the moduli space. The
moduli spaces of (generic) irregular connections on curves may also be realised in
terms of Higgs bundles and admit hyperKähler metrics [4].

2. Affine Weyl group symmetries

2
If we subtract off y 00 = ddt2y from the right-hand side of the PVI equation and
multiply through by t2 (t − 1)2 y(y − 1)(y − t) then we obtain a polynomial
P (t, y, y 0 , y 00 , θ) ∈ C[t, y, y 0 , y 00 , θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , θ4 ]
where θ = (θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , θ4 ) are the parameters.
Suppose Π is a Riemann surface equipped with a holomorphic map t : Π → U onto
some open subset U ⊂ B := P1 \ {0, 1, ∞}, with non-zero derivative (so t is always a
local isomorphism). (For example, one could take Π = U with t the inclusion, or take
Π to be the upper half-plane, and t the universal covering map onto U = B.) Then,
a meromorphic function y on Π will be said to be a solution to PVI if
(5) P (t, y, y 0 , y 00 , θ) = 0
2
as functions on Π, for some choice of θ, where y 0 = dy 00 d y
dt , y = dt2 are defined by using
t as a local parameter on Π. (With this t-dependence understood we will abbreviate
(5) as P (t, y, θ) = 0 below.) By definition, the finite branching solutions to PVI are
those with Π a finite cover of B, i.e., so that t is a Belyi map. Such Π admits a
natural compactification Π, on which t extends to a rational function. The solution
is “algebraic” if y is a rational function on Π. Given an algebraic solution (Π, y, t) we
will say the curve Π is “minimal” or is an “efficient parameterisation” if y generates the
function field of Π as an extension of C(t). The “degree” (or number of “branches”)
of an algebraic solution is the degree of the map t : Π → P1 (for Π minimal) and
the genus of the solution is the genus of the (minimal) curve Π. (The genus can
easily be computed in terms of the nonlinear monodromy of the PVI solution using
the Riemann–Hurwitz formula, i.e., in terms of the explicit F2 action above on the
linear monodromy data.)
Four symmetries of PVI (which we will label R1 , . . . , R4 ) are immediate:
(R1 ) P (t, y, θ) = P (t, y, −θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , θ4 )
(R2 ) = P (t, y, θ1 , −θ2 , θ3 , θ4 )
(R3 ) = P (t, y, θ1 , θ2 , −θ3 , θ4 )
(R4 ) = P (t, y, θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , 2 − θ4 )
since P only depends on the squares of θ1 , θ2 , θ3 and θ4 − 1.
Okamoto [30] proved there are also much less trivial symmetries:

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 7

Theorem 0. — If P (t, y, θ) = 0 then

(R5 ) P (t, y + δ/x, θ1 − δ, θ2 − δ, θ3 − δ, θ4 − δ) = 0
P4
where δ = 1 θi /2 and
(t − 1) y 0 − θ1 y 0 − 1 − θ2 t y 0 + θ3
(6) 2x = + − .
y y−t y−1
Remark 2. — This can be verified directly by a symbolic computation in differential
algebra. On actual solutions however it is not always well-defined since, for example,
one may have y = t (identically) or find x is identically zero. It seems one can avoid
these problems by assuming y is not a Riccati solution (cf. [35]). For example, if
one finds x = 0 then we see y solves a first order (Riccati) equation, so was a Riccati
solution. Moreover, the Riccati solutions are well understood and correspond to the
linear representations ρ which are either reducible or rigid, so little generality is lost.

Remark 3. — In terms of the symmetries s0 , . . . , s4 of [29], R1 , . . . R4 are s4 , s0 , s3 , s1

respectively and R5 is conjugate to s2 via R1 R2 R3 R4 , where the parame-
ters α4 , α0 , α3 , α1 of [29] are taken to be θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , θ4 − 1 respectively, and
P
p = x + 31 θi /(y − ai ).

A basic observation (of Okamoto) is that these five symmetries generate a group
isomorphic to the affine Weyl group of type D4 . More precisely let ε1 , . . . , ε4 be
an orthonormal basis of a Euclidean vector space VR with inner product ( , ) and
complexification V , and consider the following set of 24 unit vectors
D4− = {±εi , (±ε1 ± ε2 ± ε3 ± ε4 )/2}.
This is a root system isomorphic to the standard D4 root system
D4 = {±εi ± εj (i < j)}
√
but with vectors of length 1 rather than 2. (Our main reference for root systems
etc. is [14]. One may identify D4− with the group of units of the Hurwitzian integral
quaternions [15], and then identify with D4 by multiplying by the quaternion 1 + i.)
2α
Each root α ∈ D4− determines a coroot α∨ = (α,α) (= 2α here) as well as a hyperplane
Lα in V :
Lα := { v ∈ V (α, v) = 0 }.
In turn α determines an orthogonal reflection sα , the reflection in this hyperplane:
(α, v)
sα (v) = v − 2 α = v − (α∨ , v)α.
(α, α)
The Weyl group W (D4− ) ⊂ O(V ) is the group generated by these reflections:
W (D4− ) = h sα α ∈ D4− i

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

8 P. BOALCH

which is of order 192. Similarly the choice of a root α ∈ D4− and an integer k ∈ Z
determines an affine hyperplane Lα,k in V :
Lα,k := { v ∈ V (α, v) = k }
and the reflection sα,k in this hyperplane is an affine Euclidean transformation
sα,k (v) = sα (v) + kα∨ .
The affine Weyl group Wa (D4− ) ⊂ Aff(V ) is the group generated by these reflec-
tions:
Wa (D4− ) = h sα,k α ∈ D4− , k ∈ Z i
which is an infinite group isomorphic to the semi-direct product of W (D4− ) and the
coroot lattice Q((D4− )∨ ) (which is the lattice in V generated by the coroots α∨ ∈
(D4− )∨ = D4+ = 2D4− ). By definition the connected components of the complement
in VR of all the (affine) reflection hyperplanes are the D4− alcoves. The closure A in
VR of any alcove A is a fundamental domain for the action of the affine Weyl group;
every Wa (D4− ) orbit in VR intersects A in precisely one point.
P
Now, if we write a point of V as θi εi (i.e., the parameters θi are being viewed as
coordinates on V with respect to the ε-basis) then, on V , the five symmetries above
correspond to the reflections in the five hyperplanes:
X
θ1 = 0, θ2 = 0, θ3 = 0, θ4 = 1, θi = 0.

The reflections in these hyperplanes generate Wa (D4− ) since the region:

X
θ1 < 0, θ2 < 0, θ3 < 0, θ4 < 1, θi > 0
that they bound in VR is an alcove. (With respect to the root ordering given by taking
P3 P
the inner product with the vector 4ε4 − 1 εi , the roots −ε1 , −ε2 , −ε3 , εi /2 are a
basis of positive roots of D4− , and the highest root is ε4 , so by [14, p. 175] this is an
alcove.)
In fact, as Okamoto showed, the full symmetry group of PVI is the affine Weyl
group of type F4 . (The F4 root system is the set of 48 vectors in the union of D4 and
D4− .) This is not surprising if one recalls that Wa (F4 ) is the normaliser of Wa (D4− )
in the group of affine transformations; Wa (F4 ) is the extension of Wa (D4− ) by the
symmetric group on four letters, S4 thought of as the automorphisms of the affine D4
Dynkin diagram (a central node with four satellites). This extension breaks into two
pieces corresponding to the exact sequence
1 −→ K4 −→ S4 −→ S3 −→ 1
where K4 ∼ = (Z/2)2 is the Klein four-group. On one hand the group of translations
is extended by a K4 ; the lattice Q(D4+ ) is replaced by Q(F4∨ ) = Q(D4 ). (In general
[14, p. 176] one replaces Q(R∨ ) by P (R∨ ) = Q(R)∗ .) On the other hand the Weyl
group is extended by an S3 , thought of as the automorphisms of the usual D4 Dynkin

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 9

diagram; W (D4− ) is replaced by the full group of automorphisms A(D4− ) of the root
system, which in this case is equal to W (F4 ).
Likewise, the corresponding symmetries of PVI break into two pieces. First, one has
an S3 permuting θi (i = 1, 2, 3) generated, for example, by the symmetries (denoted
x1 , x3 respectively in [30, p. 361]):
P (t, y, θ) = 0 =⇒ P (1 − t, 1 − y, θ3 , θ2 , θ1 , θ4 ) = 0
 
t t−y
P (t, y, θ) = 0 =⇒ P , , θ2 , θ1 , θ3 , θ4 = 0.
t−1 t−1
We remark that Wa (D4− ) already contains transformations permuting θ by the
standard Klein four group (mapping θ to (θ3 , θ4 , θ1 , θ2 ) etc.), and so we already ob-
tain all permutations of θ just by adding the above two symmetries.(2) To obtain
the desired K4 extension we refine the possible translations by adding the further
symmetry (denoted x2 in [30]):
P (t, y, θ) = 0 =⇒ P (1/t, 1/y, θ4 − 1, θ2 , θ3 , θ1 + 1) = 0.
Combined with x1 , x3 this generates an S4 which may be thought of as permuting the
set of values of θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , θ4 − 1. (Note that, modulo the permutations of θ, we now
have translations of the form θ 7→ (θ1 + 1, θ2 , θ3 , θ4 − 1), generating Q(D4 ).)

Remark 4. — One can also just extend by the K4 and get an intermediate group, often
called the extended Weyl group Wa0 (D4− ) = W (D4− )nP ((D4− )∨ ) which is normal in
Wa (F4 ) and is the maximal subgroup that does not change the time t in the above
action on PVI . The quotient group S3 should thus be thought of as the automorphisms
of P1 \ {0, 1, ∞}.

Our aim in the rest of this section is to explain how these symmetries arise naturally
from symmetries of the Schlesinger equations. The immediate symmetries are:
• (twisted) Schlesinger transformations,
• negating the θi independently, and
• arbitrary permutations of the θi .
In more detail, the Schlesinger transformations (see [24]) are certain rational gauge
transformations which shift the eigenvalues of the residues by integers. Applying such
a transformation and then twisting by a logarithmic connection on the trivial line
bundle (to return the system to sl2 ) is a symmetry of the Schlesinger equations. (This
procedure of “twisting” clearly commutes with the flows of the Schlesinger equations:
P
in concrete terms it simply amounts to adding an expression of the form 31 ci /(z−ai ),
for constant scalars ci , to the Fuchsian system (1). Recall (a1 , a2 , a3 ) = (0, t, 1).)

(2) For
example, R5 r1 r3 R5 r2 r4 produces the permutation written, where ri is the Okamoto trans-
formation negating θi —i.e., ri = Ri for i = 1, 2, 3 and r4 = R5 (R1 R2 R3 )R5 (R1 R2 R3 )R5 .

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

10 P. BOALCH

Secondly, the eigenvalues of the residues are only determined by the abstract Fuch-
sian system up to sign (i.e., one chooses an order of the eigenvalues of each residue to
define θi , and these choices can be swapped).
Finally, if we permute the labels a1 , . . . , a4 of the singularities of the Fuchsian sys-
tem arbitrarily and then perform the (unique) automorphism of the sphere mapping
a1 , a3 , a4 to 0, 1, ∞ respectively, we obtain another isomonodromic family of systems,
which can be conjugated to give another Schlesinger solution.
As an example, consider the case of negating θ4 . Suppose we have a solution of
the Schlesinger equations A(t) for a given choice of θ and have normalised A4 as
required in Theorem -1 (this is where the sign choice is used). If we conjugate A by
the permutation matrix ( 01 10 ) we again get a solution of the Schlesinger equations,
and by Theorem -1 this yields a solution to PVI with parameters (θ1 , θ2 , θ3 , −θ4 ). This
gives the corresponding Okamoto transformation in terms of Schlesinger symmetries.
(It is a good, if unenlightening, exercise to compute the explicit formula —in effect
computing the position of the zero of the bottom-left entry of (4) in terms of x, y— and
check it agrees with the action of the corresponding word in the given generators of
Wa (D4− ), although logically this verification is unnecessary since a) This is a symmetry
of PVI and b) Okamoto found all symmetries, and they are determined by their action
on {θ}.)
However, one easily sees that the group generated by these immediate symmetries
does not contain the transformation R5 of Theorem 0. To obtain this symmetry we
will recall (from [12]) how PVI also governs the isomonodromic deformations of certain
rank three Fuchsian systems and show that R5 arises from symmetries of the corre-
sponding Schlesinger equations (indeed it arises simply from the choice of ordering of
the eigenvalues at infinity). (Note that Noumi–Yamada [29] have also obtained this
symmetry from an isomonodromy viewpoint, but only in terms of an irregular (non-
Fuchsian) 8 × 8 system whose isomonodromy deformations, in a generalised sense, are
governed by PVI . Note also that Arinkin and Lysenko ([2, Corollary 2]) give a nice
explicit description of R5 as an isomorphism of the abstract varieties underlying the
(compactified) moduli spaces of linear connections.)
To this end, let V = C3 be a three-dimensional complex vector space and suppose
B1 , B2 , B3 ∈ End(V ) are rank one matrices. Let λi = Tr(Bi ) and suppose that
B1 + B2 + B3 is diagonalisable with eigenvalues µ1 , µ2 , µ3 , so that taking the trace
implies
X3 X3
(7) λi = µi .
1 1
Consider connections of the form
b b B1 B2 B3
(8) ∇ = d − Bdz, B(z) = + + .
z z−t z−1
The fact is that the isomonodromic deformations of such connections are also gov-
erned by PVI (one might expect such a thing since the corresponding moduli spaces

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 11

are again two-dimensional). One proof of this ([11]) is to show directly that the cor-
responding Schlesinger equations are equivalent to those arising in the original 2 × 2
case (this may be done easily by writing out the isomonodromy connections explicitly
in terms of the coordinates on the spaces of residues given by the invariant functions,
and comparing the resulting nonlinear differential equations).
The second proof of this result directly gives the function that solves PVI ; First
conjugate B1 , B2 , B3 by a single element of GL3 (C) such that
B1 + B2 + B3 = diag(µ1 , µ2 , µ3 ).
(Note this uses the choice of ordering of eigenvalues of B1 + B2 + B3 .) Consider the
polynomial defined to be the (2, 3) matrix entry of
(9) b
z(z − 1)(z − t)B(z).
By construction, this is a linear polynomial, so has a unique zero on the complex
plane. Define y = y23 to be the position of this zero.
b according to Schlesinger’s equa-
Theorem 1 ([12, p. 201]). — If we vary t and evolve B
tions then y(t) satisfies the PVI equation with parameters
(10) θ1 = λ1 − µ1 , θ2 = λ2 − µ1 , θ3 = λ3 − µ1 , θ4 = µ3 − µ2 .

The proof given in [12] uses an extra symmetry of the corresponding Schlesinger
equations ([12, Proposition 16]) to pass to the 2 × 2 case. Note that [12] also gives
the explicit relation between the 2 × 2 and 3 × 3 linear monodromy data, not just the
relation between the Fuchsian systems.

Remark 5. — Apparently, ([16]), this procedure of [12] is essentially N. Katz’s

middle-convolution functor [26] in this context. For us it originated by considering
the effect of performing the Fourier–Laplace transformation, twisting by a flat line
bundle λdw/w and transforming back (reading [3] carefully to see what happens to
the connections and their monodromy). It is amusing that the middle-convolution
functor first arose through the l-adic Fourier transform, essentially in this way it
seems, and was then translated back into the complex analytic world, rather than
having been previously worked out directly.
b
If we now conjugate B(z) by an arbitrary 3 × 3 permutation matrix (i.e., a matrix
which is zero except for precisely one 1 in each row and column), we obtain another
solution of the Schlesinger equations, but with the µi permuted accordingly. The
happy fact that this S3 transitively permutes the six off-diagonal entries yields:

Corollary. — Let (i, j, k) be some permutation of (1, 2, 3). Then, the position yjk of
the zero of the (j, k) matrix entry of (9) satisfies PVI with parameters
(11) θ1 = λ1 − µi , θ2 = λ2 − µi , θ3 = λ3 − µi , θ4 = µk − µj .

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

12 P. BOALCH

Proof. — Conjugate by the corresponding permutation matrix and apply Theo-

rem 1.

For example, the permutation swapping µ2 and µ3 thus amounts to negating θ4

(indeed one may view the original 2 × 2 picture as embedded in this 3 × 3 picture as
the bottom-right 2 × 2 submatrices, at least after twisting by a logarithmic connection
on a line bundle to make A1 , A2 , A3 rank one matrices).
More interestingly, let us compute the action on the θ parameters of the permuta-
tion swapping µ1 and µ3 :
θ = (λ1 − µ1 , λ2 − µ1 , λ3 − µ1 , µ3 − µ2 ),
θ0 = (λ1 − µ3 , λ2 − µ3 , λ3 − µ3 , µ1 − µ2 ).
Thus θi0 = θi − δ with δ = µ3 − µ1 . However, using the relation (7) we find
4
X 3
X
θi = λi − 3µ1 + µ3 − µ2 = 2(µ3 − µ1 )
1 1
P4
so that δ = 1 θi /2 as required for R5 . This leads to:

Theorem 2 ([12, p. 202]). — The permutation swapping µ1 and µ3 yields the Okamoto
P4
transformation R5 . In other words if y = y23 and δ = 1 θi /2 and
(t − 1) y 0 − θ1 y 0 − 1 − θ2 t y 0 + θ3
2x = + −
y y−t y−1
then
δ
y21 = y + .
x
Remark 6. — Of course, if one had a suitable parameterisation of the space of such
3 × 3 linear connections (8) in terms of x and y, this could be proved by a direct
computation. Such a parameterisation may be obtained as follows (lifted from the
2 × 2 case in [24] using [12, Prop. 16]). (In particular, this shows how one might have
obtained the transformation formula of Theorem 0 directly.) Fix λi , µi for i = 1, 2, 3
P P
such that λi = µi . We wish to write down the matrix entries of B1 , B2 , B3 as
rational functions of x, y, t, λi , µi . The usual 2 × 2 parameterisation of Jimbo–Miwa
[24] will appear in the bottom-right corner if µ1 = 0. First define θi as in Theorem 1.
Then, define zi , ui for i = 1, 2, 3 as the unique solution to the 6 equations:
X X
y = tu1 z1 , x= zi /(y − ai ), zi = µ1 − µ3 ,
X X X
ui zi = 0, wi = 0, (t − ai )ui zi = 1,
where wi = (zi + θi )/ui and (a1 , a2 , a3 ) = (0, t, 1) (cf. [24] and [8, Appendix A]).
Now, define c1 , c2 , c3 as the solution to the 3 linear equations:
X X X
ci zi = 0, ci wi = 0, (t − ai )ci zi = 1.

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 13

The determinant of the corresponding 3×3 matrix is generically nonzero so this yields
explicit formulae for the ci (using, for example, the formula for the inverse of a 3 × 3
matrix) —we will not write them since they are somewhat clumsy and easily derived
from the above equations.(3) Using zi , ui , wi , ci we construct forms βi and vectors fi
for i = 1, 2, 3 by setting  
ci
βi = (0, wi , −zi ) ∈ V ∗ , fi = ui  ∈ V.
1
(The meaning of the above 9 equations is simply that if we set Bi0 = fi ⊗ βi ∈ End(V )
e 0 = z(z − 1)(z − t)B
and B b 0 where B b 0 = P B 0 /(z − ai ) then
i
X
Bi0 = diag(µ1 , µ2 , µ3 ) − µ1 , −B b0 e0 = z − y
33 z=y = x, B23

and the coefficient of z in the top-right entry B e 0 is also 1.)

13
The fi are in general linearly independent and we can define the dual basis fbi ∈ V ∗ ,
with fbi (fj ) = δij , explicitly. The desired matrices are then

Bi = fi ⊗ (βi + µ1 fbi ) ∈ End(V ).

Clearly, Bi is a rank-one matrix and one may check that Tr(Bi ) = λi and that
P
Bi = diag(µ1 , µ2 , µ3 ). Moreover, generically, any such triple of rank-one matrices
is conjugate to the triple B1 , B2 , B3 up to overall conjugation by the diagonal torus,
for some values of x and y. Now, if we define yij to be the value of z for which the
P
i, j matrix entry of B e := z(z − 1)(z − t)Bb vanishes, where B b = 3 Bi /(z − ai ) then
1
one may check explicitly (e.g., using Maple) that y23 = y and y21 = y + (µ3 − µ1 )/x
as required. Also x may be defined in general, as a function on the space of such
connections, by the prescription:
µ1 − µ3 b
x= B33 z=y
µ3
which may be checked to hold in the above parameterisation, and specialises to the
usual definition of x in the 2 × 2 case when µ1 = 0. Moreover, one may check x is
preserved under R5 and this agrees with the fact that one also has
µ3 − µ1 b
x= B11 z=y+δ/x
µ1
in the above parameterisation. We should emphasise that this parameterisation is
such that if y solves PVI (with parameters θ) and x is defined by (6) then the family
of connections (8) is isomonodromic as t varies. Indeed one may obtain a solution

(3) Forthe reader’s convenience a text file with some Maple code to verify the assertions of this
remark (and some others in this article) is available at www.dma.ens.fr/˜boalch/files/sps.mpl (or
alternatively with the source file of arxiv:math.AG/0503043).

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

14 P. BOALCH

to Schlesinger’s equations by also doing two quadratures as follows. (This amounts

to varying the systems appropriately under the adjoint action of the diagonal torus,
which clearly only conjugates the monodromy.) By construction, the above parame-
terisation is transverse to the torus orbits. We will parameterise the torus orbits by
replacing Bi above by hBi h−1 where h = diag(l, k, 1) for parameters l, k ∈ C∗ . One
then finds the new residues Bi solve Schlesinger’s equations provided also
d θ4 − 1
(12) log k = (y − t)
dt t(t − 1)
(as in [24, p. 445]) and
 
d δ−1 δ − θ4
(13) log l = y−t−
dt t(t − 1) p
P3
where p = x + 1 θi /(y − ai ). As a consistency check one can observe that the
equations (12) and (13) are exchanged by the transformation swapping µ1 and µ2 .
Indeed the corresponding Okamoto transformation (R1 R2 R3 )R5 (R1 R2 R3 ) maps y to
y − δ−θ
p
4
and changes θ4 into δ.

Remark 7. — The parameterisation of the 3 × 3 Fuchsian systems given in the previ-

ous remark is tailored so that one can see how the Okamoto transformation R5 arises
and see the relation to Schlesinger’s equations (i.e., one may do the two quadratures
to obtain a Schlesinger solution). However, when written out explicitly, the matrix
entries are complicated rational functions of x, y, t, λi , µi (the 2 × 2 case in [24] is
already quite complicated). If one is simply interested in writing down an isomon-
odromic family of Fuchsian system (starting from a PVI solution y) then one may
conjugate the above family of Fuchsian systems into a simpler form, as follows. First,
if we write each Bi of the previous remark with respect to the basis {fi }, then Bi will
only have non-zero matrix entries in the ith row. Then, one can further conjugate by
the diagonal torus to obtain the following, simpler, explicit matrices:
     
λ1 b12 b13 0 0 0 0 0 0
(14) B1 =  0 0 0  , B2 = b21 λ2 b23  , B3 =  0 0 0
0 0 0 0 0 0 b31 b32 λ3
where

b12 = λ1 − µ3 y + (µ1 − xy)(y − 1), b32 = (µ2 − λ2 − b12 )/t,

b13 = λ1 t − µ3 y + (µ1 − xy)(y − t), b23 = (µ2 − λ3 )t − b13 ,

µ3 (y − t) − µ1 (y − 1) + x(y − t)(y − 1)
b21 = λ2 + , b31 = (µ2 − λ1 − b21 )/t.
t−1

SÉMINAIRES & CONGRÈS 14

 SIX RESULTS ON PAINLEVÉ VI 15

Thus if y(t) solves PVI (with parameters θ as in (10)) and we define x(t) via (6)
and construct the matrices Bi from the above formulae, then the family of Fuchsian
systems
 
d B1 B2 B3
(15) − + +
dz z z−t z−1
will be isomonodromic as t varies, since it is conjugate to a Schlesinger solution. This
seems to be the simplest way to write down explicit isomonodromic families of rank
three Fuchsian systems from PVI solutions (an example will be given in the following
section).

3. Special solutions
Another application of the 3 × 3 Fuchsian representation of PVI is that it allows
us to see new finite-branching solutions to PVI . The basic idea is that, due to (2),
if a Fuchsian system has finite linear monodromy group then the solution to the
isomonodromy equations, controlling its deformations, will only have a finite number
of branches. For example, this idea was used in the 2 × 2 context by Hitchin [20,
21] to find some explicit solutions with dihedral, tetrahedral and octahedral linear
monodromy groups. (Also there are 5 solutions in [17, 18, 27] equivalent to solutions
with icosahedral linear monodromy groups.)
One can also try to use the same idea in the 3 × 3 context. The first question
to ask is: what are the possible finite monodromy groups of rank 3 connections of
the form (8)? Well (at least if λi 6∈ Z), the local monodromies around 0, t, 1 will
be conjugate to the exponentials of the residues, which will be matrices of the form
“identity + rank one matrix”, i.e., they will be pseudo-reflections. Moreover, the finite
groups generated by such pseudo-reflections, often called complex reflection groups,
have been classified by Shephard and Todd [32]. Looking at their list we immediately
see that we get a richer class of finite groups than the finite subgroups of SL2 (C), and
so expect to get new PVI solutions.
For example, the smallest non-real exceptional complex reflection group is the
Klein reflection group of order 336 (which is a two-fold cover of Klein’s simple group
of holomorphic automorphisms of Klein’s quartic curve). This leads to:

Theorem 3 ([12]). — The rational functions

2
5 s2 − 8 s + 5 7 s2 − 7 s + 4 7 s2 − 7 s + 4
y=− , t= 2,
s (s − 2) (s + 1) (2 s − 1) (4 s2 − 7 s + 7) s3 (4 s2 − 7 s + 7)
constitute a genus zero solution to PVI with 7 branches and parameters θ =
(2, 2, 2, 4)/7. It governs isomonodromic deformations of a rank 3 Fuchsian connec-
tion of the form (8) with linear monodromy group isomorphic to the Klein reflection
group and parameters λi = 1/2, (µ1 , µ2 , µ3 ) = (3, 5, 13)/14. Moreover, this solution

SOCIÉTÉ MATHÉMATIQUE DE FRANCE 2006

Other documents randomly have
different content
the ancient peoples of the archipelago as the birthplace of the human race; and that
the first brown habitants of Madiana, having been driven from their natural heritage by
the man-eating pirates of the south—the cannibal Caribs,—remembered and mourned
for their sacred mountains, and gave the names of them, for a memory, to the loftiest
summits of their new home,—Hayti.... Surely never was fairer spot hallowed by the
legend of man's nursing-place than the valley blue-shadowed by those peaks,—worthy,
for their gracious femininity of shape, to seem the visible breasts of the All-nourishing
Mother,—dreaming under this tropic sun.
Touching the zone of pale light north-east, appears a beautiful peaked silhouette,—
Dominica. We had hoped to perceive Saint Lucia; but the atmosphere is too heavily
charged with vapor to-day. How magnificent must be the view on certain extraordinary
days, when it reaches from Antigua to the Grenadines—over a range of three hundred
miles! But the atmospheric conditions which allow of such a spectacle are rare indeed.
As a general rule, even in the most unclouded West Indian weather, the loftiest peaks
fade into the light at a distance of one hundred miles.
A sharp ridge covered with fern cuts off the view of the northern slopes: one must
climb it to look down upon Macouba. Macouba occupies the steepest slope of Pelée,
and the grimmest part of the coast: its little chef-lieu is industrially famous for the
manufacture of native tobacco, and historically for the ministrations of Père Labat, who
rebuilt its church. Little change has taken place in the parish since his time. "Do you
know Macouba?" asks a native writer;—"it is not Pelion upon Ossa, but ten or twelve
Pelions side by side with ten or twelve Ossæ, interseparated by prodigious ravines.
Men can speak to each other from places whence, by rapid walking, it would require
hours to meet;—to travel there is to experience on dry land the sensation of the sea."
With the diminution of the warmth provoked by the exertion of climbing, you begin to
notice how cool it feels;—you could almost doubt the testimony of your latitude.
Directly east is Senegambia: we are well south of Timbuctoo and the Sahara,—on a
line with southern India. The ocean has cooled the winds; at this altitude the rarity of
the air is northern; but in the valleys below the vegetation is African. The best
alimentary plants, the best forage, the flowers of the gardens, are of Guinea;—the
graceful date-palms are from the Atlas region: those tamarinds, whose thick shade
stifles all other vegetal life beneath it, are from Senegal. Only, in the touch of the air,
the vapory colors of distance, the shapes of the hills, there is a something not of
Africa: that strange fascination which has given to the island its poetic creole name,—
le Pays des Revenants. And the charm is as puissant in our own day as it was more
than two hundred years ago, when Père Du Tertre wrote:—"I have never met one
single man, nor one single woman, of all those who came back therefrom, in whom I
have not remarked a most passionate desire to return thereunto."
Time and familiarity do not weaken the charm, either for those born among these
scenes who never voyaged beyond their native island, or for those to whom the streets
of Paris and the streets of St. Pierre are equally well known. Even at a time when
Martinique had been forsaken by hundreds of her ruined planters, and the paradise-life
of the old days had become only a memory to embitter exile,—a Creole writes:—
—"Let there suddenly open before you one of those vistas, or anses, with colonnades
of cocoa-palm—at the end of which you see smoking the chimney of a sugar-mill, and
catch a glimpse of the hamlet of negro cabins (cases);—or merely picture to yourself
one of the most ordinary, most trivial scenes: nets being hauled by two ranks of
fishermen; a canot waiting for the embellie to make a dash for the beach; even a
negro bending under the weight of a basket of fruits, and running along the shore to
get to market;—and illuminate that with the light of our sun! What landscapes!—O
Salvator Rosa! O Claude Lorrain,—if I had your pencil!... Well do I remember the day
on which, after twenty years of absence, I found myself again in presence of these
wonders;—I feel once more the thrill of delight that made all my body tremble, the
tears that came to my eyes. It was my land, my own land, that appeared so
beautiful."...[36]

[36]Dr. E. Rufz: "Études historiques," vol. I, p. 180.

At the beginning, while gazing south, east, west, to the rim of the world, all laughed,
shouted, interchanged the quick delight of new impressions: every face was radiant....
Now all look serious;—none speak. The first physical joy of finding oneself on this point
in violet air, exalted above the hills, soon yields to other emotions inspired by the
mighty vision and the colossal peace of the heights. Dominating all, I think, is the
consciousness of the awful antiquity of what one is looking upon,—such a sensation,
perhaps, as of old found utterance in that tremendous question of the Book of Job:
—"Wast thou brought forth before the hills?"
 RUINS, ST. PIERRE
Decked out with flowers grayed by the
passing years, these crumbling walls look
immeasurably old.
... And the blue multitude of the peaks, the perpetual congregation of the mornes,
seem to chorus in the vast resplendence,—telling of Nature's eternal youth, and the
passionless permanence of that about us and beyond us and beneath,—until
something like the fulness of a great grief begins to weigh at the heart.... For all this
astonishment of beauty, all this majesty of light and form and color, will surely endure,
—marvellous as now,—after we shall have lain down to sleep where no dreams come,
and may never arise from the dust of our rest to look upon it.
 'TI CANOTIÉ

One might almost say that commercial time in St. Pierre is measured by
cannon-shots,—by the signal-guns of steamers. Every such report announces
an event of extreme importance to the whole population. To the merchant it is
a notification that mails, money, and goods have arrived;—to consuls and
Government officials it gives notice of fees and dues to be collected;—for the
host of lightermen, longshoremen, port laborers of all classes, it promises
work and pay;—for all it signifies the arrival of food. The island does not feed
itself: cattle, salt meats, hams, lard, flour, cheese, dried fish, all come from
abroad,—particularly from America. And in the minds of the colored
population the American steamer is so intimately associated with the idea of
those great tin cans in which food-stuffs are brought from the United States,
that the onomatope applied to the can, because of the sound outgiven by it
when tapped,—bom!—is also applied to the ship itself. The English or French
or Belgian steamer, however large, is only known as packett-à, batiment-là;
but the American steamer is always the "bom-ship"—batiment-bom-à; or, the
"food-ship"—batiment-mangé-à. ... You hear women and men asking each other, as
the shock of the gun flaps through all the town, "Mil godé ça qui là, chè?" And if the
answer be, "Mais c'est bom-là, chè,—bom-mangé-à ka rivé" (Why, it is the bom, dear,
—the food-bom that has come), great is the exultation.
Again, because of the sound of her whistle, we find a steamer called in this same
picturesque idiom, batiment-cône,—"the horn-ship." There is even a song, of which the
refrain is:—
"Bom-là rivé, chè,—
Batiment-cône-là rivé."
... But of all the various classes of citizens, those most joyously excited by the coming
of a great steamer, whether she be a "bom" or not,—are the 'ti canotié, who swarm
out immediately in little canoes of their own manufacture to dive for coins which
passengers gladly throw into the water for the pleasure of witnessing the graceful
spectacle. No sooner does a steamer drop anchor—unless the water be very rough
indeed—than she is surrounded by a fleet of the funniest little boats imaginable, full of
naked urchins screaming creole.

These 'ti canotié—these little canoe-boys and professional divers—are, for the most
part, sons of boatmen of color, the real canotiers. I cannot find who first invented the
'ti canot: the shape and dimensions of the little canoe are fixed according to a tradition
several generations old; and no improvements upon the original model seem to have
ever been attempted, with the sole exception of a tiny water-tight box contrived
sometimes at one end, in which the palettes, or miniature paddles, and various other
trifles may be stowed away. The actual cost of material for a canoe of this kind seldom
exceeds twenty-five or thirty cents; and, nevertheless, the number of canoes is not
very large—I doubt if there be more than fifteen in the harbor;—as the families of
Martinique boatmen are all so poor that twenty-five sous are difficult to spare, in spite
of the certainty that the little son can earn fifty times the amount within a month after
owning a canoe.
For the manufacture of a canoe an American lard-box or kerosene-oil box is preferred
by reason of its shape; but any well-constructed shipping-case of small size would
serve the purpose. The top is removed; the sides and the corners of the bottom are
sawn out at certain angles; and the pieces removed are utilized for the sides of the
bow and stern,—sometimes also in making the little box for the paddles, or palettes,
which are simply thin pieces of tough wood about the form and size of a cigar-box lid.
Then the little boat is tarred and varnished: it cannot sink,—though it is quite easily
upset. There are no seats. The boys (there are usually two to each canot) simply squat
down in the bottom,—facing each other. They can paddle with surprising swiftness
over a smooth sea; and it is a very pretty sight to witness one of their prize contests in
racing,—which take place every 14th of July....

II

... It was five o'clock in the afternoon: the horizon beyond the harbor was turning
lemon-color;—and a thin warm wind began to come in weak puffs from the south-
west,—the first breaths to break the immobility of the tropical air. Sails of vessels
becalmed at the entrance of the bay commenced to flap lazily: they might belly after
sundown.
The La Guayra was in port, lying well out: her mountainous iron mass rising high above
the modest sailing craft moored in her vicinity,—barks and brigantines and brigs and
schooners and barkentines. She had lain before the town the whole afternoon,
surrounded by the entire squadron of canots; and the boys were still circling about her
flanks, although she had got up steam and was lifting her anchor. They had been very
lucky, indeed, that afternoon,—all the little canotiers;—and even many yellow lads, not
fortunate enough to own canoes, had swum out to her in hope of sharing the silver
shower falling from her saloon-deck. Some of these, tired out, were resting themselves
by sitting on the slanting cables of neighboring ships. Perched naked thus,—balancing
in the sun, against the blue of sky or water, their slender bodies took such orange from
the mellowing light as to seem made of some self-luminous substance,—flesh of sea-
fairies....
Suddenly the La Guayra opened her steam-throat and uttered such a moo that all the
mornes cried out for at least a minute after;—and the little fellows perched on the
cables of the sailing craft tumbled into the sea at the sound and struck out for shore.
Then the water all at once burst backward in immense frothing swirls from beneath the
stem of the steamer; and there arose such a heaving as made all the little canoes
dance. The La Guayra was moving. She moved slowly at first, making a great fuss as
she turned round: then she began to settle down to her journey very majestically,—
just making the water pitch a little behind her, as the hem of a woman's robe tosses
lightly at her heels while she walks.
And, contrary to custom, some of the canoes followed after her. A dark handsome
man, wearing an immense Panama hat, and jewelled rings upon his hands, was still
throwing money; and still the boys dived for it. But only one of each crew now
plunged; for, though the La Guayra was yet moving slowly, it was a severe strain to
follow her, and there was no time to be lost.
The captain of the little band—black Maximilien, ten years old, and his comrade
Stéphane—nicknamed Ti Chabin, because of his bright hair,—a slim little yellow boy of
eleven—led the pursuit, crying always, "Encò, Missié,—encò!"...
The La Guayra had gained fully two hundred yards when the handsome passenger
made his final largess,—proving himself quite an expert in flinging coin. The piece fell
far short of the boys, but near enough to distinctly betray a yellow shimmer as it
twirled to the water. That was gold!
In another minute the leading canoe had reached the spot, the other canotiers
voluntarily abandoning the quest,—for it was little use to contend against Maximilien
and Stéphane, who had won all the canoe contests last 14th of July. Stéphane, who
was the better diver, plunged.
He was much longer below than usual, came up at quite a distance, panted as he
regained the canoe, and rested his arms upon it. The water was so deep there, he
could not reach the coin the first time, though he could see it: he was going to try
again,—it was gold, sure enough.
—"Fouinq! ça fond içitt!" he gasped.
Maximilien felt all at once uneasy. Very deep water, and perhaps sharks. And sunset
not far off! The La Guayra was diminishing in the offing.
—"Boug-là 'lé fai nou néyé!—laissé y, Stéphane!" he cried. (The fellow wants to drown
us. Laissé—leave it alone.)
But Stéphane had recovered breath, and was evidently resolved to try again. It was
gold!
—"Mais ça c'est lò!"
—"Assez, non!" screamed Maximilien. "Pa plongé ncò, moin ka di ou! Ah! foute!"...
Stéphane had dived again!
... And where were the others? "Bon-Dié, gadé oti yo yé!" They were almost out of
sight,—tiny specks moving shoreward.... The La Guayra now seemed no bigger than
the little packet running between St. Pierre and Fort-de-France.
Up came Stéphane again, at a still greater distance than before,—holding high the
yellow coin in one hand. He made for the canoe, and Maximilien paddled towards him
and helped him in. Blood was streaming from the little diver's nostrils, and blood
colored the water he spat from his mouth.
—"Ah! moin té ka di ou laissé y!" cried Maximilien, in anger and alarm.... "Gàdé, godé
sang-à ka coulé nans nez ou,—nans bouche ou!... Mi oti lézautt!"
Lézautt, the rest, were no longer visible.
—"Et mi oti nou yé!" cried Maximilien again. They had never ventured so far from
shore.
But Stéphane answered only, "C'est lò!" For the first time in his life he held a piece of
gold in his fingers. He tied it up in a little rag attached to the string fastened about his
waist,—a purse of his own invention,—and took up his paddles, coughing the while and
spitting crimson.
—"Mi! mi!—mi oti nou yé!" reiterated Maximilien. "Bon-Dié! look where we are!"
The Place had become indistinct;—the light-house, directly behind half an hour earlier,
now lay well south: the red light had just been kindled. Seaward, in advance of the
sinking orange disk of the sun, was the La Guayra, passing to the horizon. There was
no sound from the shore: about them a great silence had gathered,—the Silence of
seas, which is a fear. Panic seized them: they began to paddle furiously.
But St. Pierre did not appear to draw any nearer. Was it only an effect of the dying
light, or were they actually moving towards the semicircular cliffs of Fond-Corré?...
Maximilien began to cry. The little chabin paddled on,—though the blood was still
trickling over his breast.
Maximilien screamed out to him:—
—"Ou pa ka pagayé,—anh?—ou ni bousoin demi??" (Thou dost not paddle, eh?—thou
wouldst go to sleep?)
—"Si! moin ka pagayé,—epi fò!" (I am paddling, and hard, too!) responded
Stéphane....
—"Ou ka pagayé!—ou ka menti!" (Thou art paddling!—thou liest!) vociferated
Maximilien.... "And the fault is all thine. I cannot, all by myself, make the canoe to go
in water like this! The fault is all thine: I told thee not to dive, thou stupid!"
—"Ou fou!" cried Stéphane, becoming angry. "Moin ka pagayé!" (I am paddling.)
—"Beast! never may we get home so! Paddle, thou lazy;—paddle, thou nasty!"
—"Macaque thou!—monkey!"
—"Chabin!—must be chabin, for to be stupid so!"
—"Thou black monkey!—thou species of ouistiti!"
—"Thou tortoise-of-the-land!—thou slothful more than molocoye!"
—"Why, thou cursed monkey, if thou sayest I do not paddle, thou dost not know how
to paddle!"...
... But Maximilien's whole expression changed: he suddenly stopped paddling, and
stared before him and behind him at a great violet band broadening across the sea
northward out of sight; and his eyes were big with terror as he cried out:—
—"Mais ni qui chose qui douôle içitt!... There is something queer, Stéphane; there is
something queer."...
—"Ah! you begin to see now, Maximilien!—it is the current!"
—"A devil-current, Stéphane.... We are drifting: we will go to the horizon!"...
To the horizon—"nou kallé Ihorizon!"—a phrase of terrible picturesqueness.... In the
creole tongue, "to the horizon" signifies to the Great Open—into the measureless sea.
—"C'est pa lapeine pagayé atouèlement!" (It is no use to paddle now), sobbed
Maximilien, laying down his palettes.
—"Si! si!" said Stéphane, reversing the motion: "paddle with the current."
—"With the current! It runs to La Dominique!"
—"Pouloss," phlegmatically returned Stéphane,—"ennou!—let us make for La
Dominique!"
—"Thou fool!—it is more than past forty kilometres.... Stéphane, mi! gadé!—mi qui
gouôs requ'em!"
A long black fin cut the water almost beside them, passed, and vanished,—a requin
indeed! But, in his patois, the boy almost re-echoed the name as uttered by quaint
Père Du Tertre, who, writing of strange fishes more than two hundred years ago, says
it is called REQUIEM, because for the man who findeth himself alone with it in the
midst of the sea, surely a requiem must be sung.
—"Do not paddle, Stéphane!—do not put thy hand in the water again!"

III

... The La Guayra was a point on the sky-verge;—the sun's face had vanished. The
silence and the darkness were deepening together.
—"Si lanmè ka vini plis fò, ça nou ké fai?" (If the sea roughens, what are we to do?)
asked Maximilien.
—"Maybe we will meet a steamer," answered Stéphane: "the Orinoco was due to-day."
—"And if she pass in the night?"
—"They can see us."...
—"No, they will not be able to see us at all. There is no moon."
—"They have lights ahead."
—"I tell thee, they will not see us at all,—pièss! pièss!"
—"Then they will hear us cry out."
—"No,—we cannot cry so loud. One can hear nothing but a steam-whistle or a cannon,
with the noise of the wind and the water and the machine.... Even on the Fort-de-
France packet one cannot hear for the machine. And the machine of the Orinoco is
more big than the church of the 'Centre.'"
—"Then we must try to get to La Dominique."
... They could now feel the sweep of the mighty current;—it even seemed to them that
they could hear it,—a deep low whispering. At long intervals they saw lights,—the
lights of houses in Pointe-Prince, in Fond-Canonville,—in Au Prêcheur. Under them the
depth was unfathomed:—hydrographic charts mark it sans-fond. And they passed the
great cliffs of Aux Abymes, under which lies the Village of the Abysms.
The red glare in the west disappeared suddenly as if blown out;—the rim of the sea
vanished into the void of the gloom;—the night narrowed about them, thickening like a
black fog. And the invisible, irresistible power of the sea was now bearing them away
from the tall coast,—over profundities unknown,—over the sans-fond,—out "to the
horizon."
 IV

... Behind the canoe a long thread of pale light quivered and twisted: bright points
from time to time mounted up, glowered like eyes, and vanished again;—glimmerings
of faint flame wormed away on either side as they floated on. And the little craft no
longer rocked as before;—they felt another and a larger motion,—long slow ascents
and descents enduring for minutes at a time;—they were riding the great swells,—
riding the horizon!
Twice they were capsized. But happily the heaving was a smooth one, and their little
canoe could not sink: they groped for it, found it, righted it, and climbed in, and baled
out the water with their hands.
From time to time they both cried out together, as loud as they could,—"Sucou!—
sucou!—sucou!"—hoping that some one might be looking for them.... The alarm had
indeed been given; and one of the little steam-packets had been sent out to look for
them,—with torch-fires blazing at her bows; but she had taken the wrong direction.
—"Maximilien," said Stéphane, while the great heaving seemed to grow vaster,—"fau
nou ka prié Bon-Dié."...
Maximilien answered nothing.
—"Fau prié Bon-Dié" (We must pray to the Bon-Dié), repeated Stéphane.
—"Pa lapeine, li pas pè ouè nou atò!" (It is not worth while: He cannot see us now)
answered the little black.
... In the immense darkness even the loom of the island was no longer visible.
—"O Maximilien!—Bon-Dié ka ouè toutt, ha connaitt toutt" (He sees all; He knows all),
cried Stéphane.
—"Y pa pè ouè non pièss atouèlement, moin ben sur!" (He cannot see us at all now,—I
am quite sure) irreverently responded Maximilien....
—"Thou thinkest the Bon-Dié like thyself!—He has not eyes like thou," protested
Stéphane. "Li pas ka tiny coulé; li pas ka tini zié" (He has not color; He has not eyes),
continued the boy, repeating the text of his catechism,—the curious creole catechism
of old Perè Goux, of Carbet. [Quaint priest and quaint catechism have both passed
away.]
—"Moin pa save si li pa ka tini coulè" (I know not if He has not color), answered
Maximilien. "But what I well know is that if He has not eyes. He cannot see.... Fouinq!
—how idiot!"
—"Why, it is in the Catechism," cried Stéphane.... "'Bon-Dié, li conm vent: vent tout-
patout, et nou pa save ouè li;—li ka touché nou,—li ka boulvésé lamnè." (The Good-
God is like the Wind: the Wind is everywhere, and we cannot see It;—It touches us,—
It tosses the sea.)
—"If the Bon-Dié is the Wind," responded Maximilien, "then pray thou the Wind to stay
quiet."
—"The Bon-Dié is not the Wind," cried Stéphane: "He is like the Wind, but He is not
the Wind."...
—"Ah! soc-soc!—fouinq!... More better past praying to care we be not upset again and
eaten by sharks."
***************
... Whether the little chabin prayed either to the Wind or to the Bon-Dié, I do not
know. But the Wind remained very quiet all that night,—seemed to hold its breath for
fear of ruffling the sea. And in the Mouillage of St. Pierre furious American captains
swore at the Wind because it would not fill their sails.

Perhaps, if there had been a breeze, neither Stéphane nor Maximilien would have seen
the sun again. But they saw him rise.
Light pearled in the east, over the edge of the ocean, ran around the rim of the sky
and yellowed: then the sun's brow appeared;—a current of gold gushed rippling across
the sea before him;—and all the heaven at once caught blue fire from horizon to
zenith. Violet from flood to cloud the vast recumbent form of Pelée loomed far behind,
—with long reaches of mountaining: pale grays o'ertopping misty blues. And in the
north another lofty shape was towering,—strangely jagged and peaked and beautiful,
—the silhouette of Dominica: a sapphire saw!... No wandering clouds:—over far Pelée
only a shadowy piling of nimbi.... Under them the sea swayed dark as purple ink—a
token of tremendous depth.... Still a dead calm, and no sail in sight.
—"Ça c'est la Dominique," said Maximilien,—"Ennou pou ouivage-à!"
They had lost their little palettes during the night;—they used their naked hands, and
moved swiftly. But Dominica was many and many a mile away. Which was the nearer
island, it was yet difficult to say;—in the morning sea-haze, both were vapory,—
difference of color was largely due to position....
Sough!—sough!—sough!—A bird with a white breast passed overhead; and they
stopped paddling to look at it,—a gull. Sign of fair weather!—it was making for
Dominica.
—"Moin ni ben faim," murmured Maximilien. Neither had eaten since the morning of
the previous day,—most of which they had passed sitting in their canoe.
—"Moin ni anni soif," said Stéphane. And besides his thirst he complained of a burning
pain in his head, always growing worse. He still coughed, and spat out pink threads
after each burst of coughing.
The heightening sun flamed whiter and whiter: the flashing of waters before his face
began to dazzle like a play of lightning.... Now the islands began to show sharper lines,
stronger colors; and Dominica was evidently the nearer;—for bright streaks of green
were breaking at various angles through its vapor-colored silhouette, and Martinique
still remained all blue.
... Hotter and hotter the sun burned; more and more blinding became his
reverberation. Maximilien's black skin suffered least; but both lads, accustomed as they
were to remaining naked in the sun, found the heat difficult to bear. They would gladly
have plunged into the deep water to cool themselves, but for fear of sharks;—all they
could do was to moisten their heads, and rinse their mouths with sea-water.
Each from his end of the canoe continually watched the horizon. Neither hoped for a
sail, there was no wind; but they looked for the coining of steamers,—the Orinoco
might pass, or the English packet, or some one of the small Martinique steamboats
might be sent out to find them.
Yet hours went by; and there still appeared no smoke in the ring of the sky,—never a
sign in all the round of the sea, broken only by the two huge silhouettes.... But
Dominica was certainly nearing;—the green lights were spreading through the
luminous blue of her hills.
... Their long immobility in the squatting posture began to tell upon the endurance of
both boys,—producing dull throbbing aches in thighs, hips, and loins.... Then, about
mid-day, Stéphane declared he could not paddle any more;—it seemed to him as if his
head must soon burst open with the pain which filled it: even the sound of his own
voice hurt him,—he did not want to talk.

VI

... And another oppression came upon them,—in spite of all the pains, and the blinding
dazzle of waters, and the biting of the sun: the oppression of drowsiness. They began
to doze at intervals,—keeping their canoe balanced in some automatic way,—as cavalry
soldiers, overweary, ride asleep in the saddle.
But at last, Stéphane, awaking suddenly with a paroxysm of coughing, so swayed
himself to one side as to overturn the canoe; and both found themselves in the sea.
Maximilien righted the craft, and got in again; but the little chabin twice fell back in
trying to raise himself upon his arms. He had become almost helplessly feeble.
Maximilien, attempting to aid him, again overturned the unsteady little boat; and this
time it required all his skill and his utmost strength to get Stéphane out of the water.
Evidently Stéphane could be of no more assistance;—the boy was so weak he could
not even sit up straight.
—"Aïe! ou kê jété nou encò," panted Maximilien,—"metté ou toutt longue."
Stéphane slowly let himself down, so as to lie nearly all his length in the canoe,—one
foot on either side of Maximilien's hips. Then he lay very still for a long time,—so still
that Maximilien became uneasy.
—"Ou ben malade?" he asked.... Stéphane did not seem to hear: his eyes remained
closed.
—"Stéphane!" cried Maximilien, in alarm,—"Stéphane!"
—"C'est lò, papoute," murmured Stéphane, without lifting his eyelids,—"ça c'est lò!—ou
pa janmain cuè yon bel pièce conm ça?" (It is gold, little father.... Didst thou ever see a
pretty piece like that?... No, thou wilt not beat me, little father?—no, papoute!)
—"Ou ka dòmi, Stéphane?"—queried Maximilien, wondering,—"art asleep?"
But Stéphane opened his eyes and looked at him so strangely! Never had he seen
Stéphane look that way before.
—"Ça ou ni, Stéphane?—what ails thee?—aïe! Bon-Dié, Bon-Dié?"
—"Bon-Dié!"—muttered Stéphane, closing his eyes again at the sound of the great
Name,—"He has no color;—He is like the Wind."...
—"Stéphane!"...
—"He feels in the dark;—He has not eyes."...
—"Stéphane, pa pàlé ça!"
—"He tosses the sea.... He has no face;—He lifts up the dead... and the leaves."...
 ARMISTICE DAY, FORT-DE-FRANCE
A review at 7 A. M. by the governor anti his
staff, all in evening dress, with cannons
booming as noisily as in the north—followed
by a day busily devoted to doing nothing.
—"Ou fou!" cried Maximilien, bursting into a wild fit of sobbing,—"Stéphane, thou art
mad!"
And all at once he became afraid of Stéphane,—afraid of all he said,—afraid of his
touch,—afraid of his eyes... he was growing like a zombi!
But Stéphane's eyes remained closed;—he ceased to speak.
... About them deepened the enormous silence of the sea;—low swung the sun again.
The horizon was yellowing: day had begun to fade. Tall Dominica was now half green;
but there yet appeared no smoke, no sail, no sign of life.
And the tints of the two vast Shapes that shattered the rim of the light shifted as if
evanescing,—shifted like tones of West Indian fishes,—of pisquette and congre,—of
caringue and gouôs-zié and balaou. Lower sank the sun;—cloud-fleeces of orange
pushed up over the edge of the west;—a thin warm breath caressed the sea,—sent
long lilac shudderings over the flanks of the swells. Then colors changed again: violet
richened to purple;—greens blackened softly;—grays smouldered into smoky gold.
And the sun went down.
 VII

And they floated into the fear of the night together. Again the ghostly fires began to
wimple about them: naught else was visible but the high stars.
Black hours passed. From minute to minute Maximilien cried out:—"Sucou! sucou!"
Stéphane lay motionless and dumb: his feet, touching Maximilien's naked hips, felt
singularly cold.
... Something knocked suddenly against the bottom of the canoe,—knocked heavily—
making a hollow loud sound. It was not Stéphane;—Stéphane lay still as a stone: it
was from the depth below. Perhaps a great fish passing.
It came again,—twice,—shaking the canoe like a great blow. Then Stéphane suddenly
moved,—drew up his feet a little,—made as if to speak:—"Ou..."; but the speech failed
at his lips,—ending in a sound like the moan of one trying to call out in sleep;—and
Maximilien's heart almost stopped beating.... Then Stéphane's limbs straightened
again; he made no more movement;—Maximilien could not even hear him breathe....
All the sea had begun to whisper.
A breeze was rising;—Maximilien felt it blowing upon him. All at once it seemed to him
that he had ceased to be afraid,—that he did not care what might happen. He thought
about a cricket he had one day watched in the harbor,—drifting out with the tide, on
an atom of dead bark,—and he wondered what had become of it. Then he understood
that he himself was the cricket,—still alive. But some boy had found him and pulled off
his legs. There they were,—his own legs, pressing against him: he could still feel the
aching where they had been pulled off; and they had been dead so long they were
now quite cold.... It was certainly Stéphane who had pulled them off....
The water was talking to him. It was saying the same thing over and over again,—
louder each time, as if it thought he could not hear. But he heard it very well:—"Bon-
Dié, li conm vent... li ka touché nou... nou pa save ouè li." (But why had the Bon-Dié
shaken the wind?) "Li pa ka tint zié," answered the water.... Ouille!—He might all the
same care not to upset folks in the sea!... Mi!...
But even as he thought these things, Maximilien became aware that a white, strange,
bearded face was looking at him: the Bon-Dié was there,—bending over him with a
lantern,—talking to him in a language he did not understand. And the Bon-Dié certainly
had eyes,—great gray eyes that did not look wicked at all. He tried to tell the Bon-Dié
how sorry he was for what he had been saying about him;—but found he could not
utter a word. He felt great hands lift him up to the stars, and lay him down very near
them,—just under them. They burned blue-white, and hurt his eyes like lightning:—he
felt afraid of them.... About him he heard voices,—always speaking the same language,
which he could not understand.... "Poor little devils!—poor little devils!" Then he heard
a bell ring; and the Bon-Dié made him swallow something nice and warm;—and
everything became black again. The stars went out!...
... Maximilien was lying under an electric-light on board the great steamer Rio de
Janeiro, and dead Stéphane beside him.... It was four o'clock in the morning.

LA FILLE DE COULEUR

Nothing else in the picturesque life of the French colonies of the Occident
impresses the traveller on his first arrival more than the costumes of the
women of color. They surprise the aesthetic sense agreeably;—they are local
and special: you will see nothing resembling them among the populations of
the British West Indies; they belong to Martinique, Guadeloupe, Désirade,
Marie-Galante, and Cayenne,—in each place differing sufficiently to make the
difference interesting, especially in regard to the head-dress. That of
Martinique is quite Oriental;—more attractive, although less fantastic than the
Cayenne coiffure, or the pretty drooping mouchoir of Guadeloupe.
These costumes are gradually disappearing, for various reasons,—the chief
reason being of course the changes in the social condition of the colonies
during the last forty years. Probably the question of health had also
something to do with the almost universal abandonment in Martinique of the
primitive slave dress,—chemise and jupe,—which exposed its wearer to
serious risks of pneumonia; for as far as economical reasons are concerned, there was
no fault to find with it: six francs could purchase it when money was worth more than
it is now. The douillette, a long trailing dress, one piece from neck to feet, has taken its
place.[37] But there was a luxurious variety of the jupe costume which is disappearing
because of its cost; there is no money in the colonies now for such display:—I refer to
the celebrated attire of the pet slaves and belles affranchies of the old colonial days. A
full costume,—including violet or crimson "petticoat" of silk or satin; chemise with half-
sleeves, and much embroidery and lace; "trembling-pins" of gold (zépingue tremblant)
to attach the folds of the brilliant Madras turban; the great necklace of three or four
strings of gold beads bigger than peas (collier-choux); the ear-rings, immense but light
as egg-shells (zanneaux-à-clous or zanneaux-chenilles); the bracelets portes-bonheur);
the studs (boutons-à-clous); the brooches, not only for the turban, but for the
chemise, below the folds of the showy silken foulard or shoulder-scarf,—would
sometimes represent over five thousand francs expenditure. This gorgeous attire is
becoming less visible every year: it is now rarely worn except on very solemn
occasions,—weddings, baptisms, first communions, confirmations. The da (nurse) or
"porteuse-de-baptême" who bears the baby to church holds it at the baptismal font,
and afterwards carries it from house to house in order that all the friends of the family
may kiss it, is thus attired; but nowadays, unless she be a professional (for there are
professional das, hired only for such occasions), she usually borrows the jewellry. If
tall, young, graceful, with a rich gold tone of skin, the effect of her costume is dazzling
as that of a Byzantine Virgin. I saw one young da who, thus garbed, scarcely seemed
of the earth and earthly;—there was an Oriental something in her appearance difficult
to describe,—something that made you think of the Queen of Sheba going to visit
Solomon. She had brought a merchant's baby, just christened, to receive the caresses
of the family at whose house I was visiting; and when it came to my turn to kiss it, I
confess I could not notice the child: I saw only the beautiful dark face, coiffed with
orange and purple, bending over it, in an illumination of antique gold.... What a da!...
She represented really the type of that belle affranchie of other days, against whose
fascination special sumptuary laws were made; romantically she imaged for me the
supernatural god-mothers and Cinderellas of the creole fairy-tales. For these become
transformed in the West Indian folklore,—adapted to the environment, and to local
idealism:—Cinderella, for example, is changed to a beautiful metisse, wearing a
quadruple collier-choux, zépingues tremblants, and all the ornaments of a da.[38]
Recalling the impression of that dazzling da, I can even now feel the picturesque
justice of the fabulist's description of Cinderella's creole costume: Ça té ka baille ou
mal zie!—(it would have given you a pain in your eyes to look at her!)

... Even the every-day Martinique costume is slowly changing. Year by year the
"calendeuses"—the women who paint and fold the turbans—have less work to do;—
the colors of the douiellette are becoming less vivid;—while more and more young
colored girls are being élevées en chapeau ("brought up in a hat")—i.e., dressed and
educated like the daughters of the whites. These, it must be confessed, look far less
attractive in the latest Paris fashion, unless white as the whites themselves: on the
other hand, few white girls could look well in douillette and mouchoir,—not merely
because of color contrast, but because they have not that amplitude of limb and
particular cambering of the torso peculiar to the half-breed race, with its large bulk and
stature. Attractive as certain coolie women are, I observed that all who have adopted
the Martinique costume look badly in it: they are too slender of body to wear it to
advantage.
Slavery introduced these costumes, even though it probably did not invent them; and
they were necessarily doomed to pass away with the peculiar social conditions to
which they belonged. If the population clings still to its douillettes, mouchoirs, and
foulards, the fact is largely due to the cheapness of such attire. A girl can dress very
showily indeed for about twenty francs—shoes excepted;—and thousands never wear
shoes. But the fashion will no doubt have become cheaper and uglier within another
decade.
At the present time, however, the stranger might be sufficiently impressed by the
oddity and brilliancy of these dresses to ask about their origin,—in which case it is not
likely that he will obtain any satisfactory answer. After long research I found myself
obliged to give up all hope of being able to outline the history of Martinique costume,—
partly because books and histories are scanty or defective, and partly because such an
undertaking would require a knowledge possible only to a specialist. I found good
reason, nevertheless, to suppose that these costumes were in the beginning adopted
from certain fashions of provincial France,—that the respective fashions of Guadeloupe,
Martinique, and Cayenne were patterned after modes still worn in parts of the mother-
country. The old-time garb of the affranchie—that still worn by the da—somewhat
recalls dresses worn by the women of Southern France, more particularly about
Montpellier. Perhaps a specialist might also trace back the evolution of the various
creole coiffures to old forms of head-dresses which still survive among the French
country-fashions of the south and south-west provinces;—but local taste has so much
modified the original style as to leave it unrecognizable to those who have never
studied the subject. The Martinique fashion of folding and tying the Madras, and of
calendering it, are probably local; and I am assured that the designs of the curious
semi-barbaric jewellry were all invented in the colony, where the collier-choux is still
manufactured by local goldsmiths. Purchasers buy one, two, or three grains, or beads,
at a time, and string them only on obtaining the requisite number.... This is the sum of
all that I was able to learn on the matter; but in the course of searching various West
Indian authors and historians for information, I found something far more important
than the origin of the douillette or the collier-choux: the facts of that strange struggle
between nature and interest, between love and law, between prejudice and passion,
which forms the evolutional history of the mixed race.

[37] The brightly colored douillettes are classified by the people according to the designs of the printed
calico:—robe-à-bambou,—robe-à-bouquet,—robe-arc-en-ciel—robe-à-carreau,—etc., according as the
pattern is in stripes, flower-designs, "rainbow" bands of different tints, or plaidings. Ronde-en-ronde
means a stuff printed with disk-patterns, or link-patterns of different colors,—each joined with the other.
A robe of one color only is called a robe-uni.
The general laws of contrasts observed in the costume require the silk foulard, or shoulder-kerchief, to
make a sharp relief with the color of the robe, thus:—
 Robe. Foulard.
Yellow Blue.
Dark Blue Yellow.
Pink Green.
Violet Bright red.
Red Violet.
Chocolate (cacao) Pale blue.
Sky blue Pale rose.

These refer, of course, to dominant or ground colors, as there are usually several tints in the foulard as
well as the robe. The painted Madras should always be bright yellow. According to popular ideas of good
dressing, the different tints of skin should be relieved by special choice of color in the robe, as follows:—
Capresse (a clear red skin) should wear Pale yellow.
Mulatresse (according to shade) {Rose.
{Blue.
{Green.
Négresse {White.
{Scarlet, or any violent color.
[38]"Vouèla Cendrillon evec yon bel ròbe velou grande lakhè.... Ça té ka bail ou mal ziè. Li té tini bel
zanneau dans zòreill li, quate-tou-chou, bouoche, bracelet, tremblant,—toutt sòte bel baggaïe conm
ça."...—(Conte Cendrillon,—d'après Turiault.)
—"There was Cendrillon with a beautiful long trailing robe of velvet on her!... It was enough to hurt
one's eyes to look at her! She had beautiful rings in her ears, and a collier-choux of four rows, brooches,
tremblants, bracelets,—everything fine of that sort."—(Story of Cinderella in Turinault's Creole
Grammar).

II

Considering only the French peasant colonist and the West African slave as the original
factors of that physical evolution visible in the modern fille-de-couleur, it would seem
incredible;—for the intercrossing alone could not adequately explain all the physical
results. To understand them fully, it will be necessary to bear in mind that both of the
original races became modified in their lineage to a surprising degree by conditions of
climate and environment.
The precise time of the first introduction of slaves into Martinique is not now possible
to ascertain,—no record exists on the subject; but it is probable that the establishment
of slavery was coincident with the settlement of the island. Most likely the first hundred
colonists from St. Christophe, who landed, in 1635, near the bay whereon the city of
St. Pierre is now situated, either brought slaves with them, or else were furnished with
negroes very soon after their arrival. In the time of Père Dutertre (who visited the
colonies in 1640, and printed his history of the French Antilles at Paris in 1667) slavery
was already a flourishing institution,—the foundation of the whole social structure.
According to the Dominican missionary, the Africans then in the colony were decidedly
repulsive; he describes the women as "hideous" (hideuses). There is no good reason to
charge Dutertre with prejudice in his pictures of them. No writer of the century was
more keenly sensitive to natural beauty than the author of that "Voyage aux Antilles"
which inspired Chateaubriand, and which still, after two hundred and fifty years,
delights even those perfectly familiar with the nature of the places and things spoken
of. No other writer and traveller of the period possessed to a more marked degree that
sense of generous pity which makes the unfortunate appear to us in an illusive, almost
ideal aspect. Nevertheless, he asserts that the negresses were, as a general rule,
revoltingly ugly,—and, although he had seen many strange sides of human nature
(having been a soldier before becoming a monk), was astonished to find that
miscegenation had already begun. Doubtless the first black women thus favored, or
afflicted, as the case might be, were of the finer types of negresses; for he notes
remarkable differences among the slaves procured from different coasts and various
tribes. Still, these were rather differences of ugliness than aught else: they were all
repulsive;—only some were more repulsive than others.[39] Granting that the first
mothers of mulattoes in the colony were the superior rather than the inferior physical
types,—which would be a perfectly natural supposition,—still we find their offspring
worthy in his eyes of no higher sentiment than pity. He writes in his chapter entitled
"De la naissance honteuse des mulastres":
—"They have something of their Father and something of their Mother,—in the same
wise that Mules partake of the qualities of the creatures that engendered them: for
they are neither all white, like the French; nor all black, like the Negroes, but have a
livid tint, which comes of both."...
To-day, however, the traveller would look in vain for a livid tint among the descendants
of those thus described: in less than two centuries and a half the physical
characteristics of the race have been totally changed. What most surprises is the
rapidity of the transformation. After the time of Père Labat, Europeans never could
"have mistaken little negro children for monkeys." Nature had begun to remodel the
white, the black, and half-breed according to environment and climate: the descendant
of the early colonists ceased to resemble his fathers; the creole negro improved upon
his progenitors;[40] the mulatto began to give evidence of those qualities of physical
and mental power which were afterwards to render him dangerous to the integrity of
the colony itself. In a temperate climate such a change would have been so gradual as
to escape observation for a long period;—in the tropics it was effected with a
quickness that astounds by its revelation of the natural forces at work.
—"Under the sun of the tropics," writes Dr. Rufz, of Martinique, "the African race, as
well as the European, becomes greatly modified in its reproduction. Either race gives
birth to a totally new being. The Creole African came into existence as did the Creole
white." And just as the offspring of Europeans who emigrated to the tropics from
different parts of France displayed characteristics so identical that it was impossible to
divine the original race-source,—so likewise the Creole negro—whether brought into
being by the heavy thick-set Congo, or the long slender black of Senegambia, or the
suppler and more active Mandingo,—appeared so remodelled, homogeneous, and
adapted in such wise to his environment that it was utterly impossible to discern in his
features anything of his parentage, his original kindred, his original source.... The
transformation is absolute. All that In be asserted is: "This is a white Creole; this is a
black Creole";—or, "This is a European white; this is an African black";—and
furthermore, after a certain number of years passed in the tropics, the enervated and
discolored aspect of the European may create uncertainty, as to his origin. But with
very few exceptions the primitive African, or, as he is termed here, the "Coast Black"
(le noir de la Côte), can be recognized at once....
... "The Creole negro is gracefully shaped, finely proportioned: his limbs are lithe, his
neck long;—his features are more delicate, his lips less thick, his nose less flattened,
than those of the African;—he has the Carib's large and melancholy eye, better
adapted to express the emotions.... Rarely can you discover in him the sombre fury of
the African, rarely a surly and savage mien: he is brave, chatty, boastful. His skin has
not the same tint as his father's,—it has become more satiny; his hair remains woolly,
but it is a finer wool... all his outlines are more rounded;—one may perceive that the
cellular tissue predominates, as in cultivated plants, of which the ligneous and savage
fibre has become transformed."...[41]
This new and comelier black race naturally won from its masters a more sympathetic
attention than could have been vouchsafed to its progenitors; and the consequences in
Martinique and elsewhere seemed to have evoked the curious Article 9 of the Code
Noir of 1665,—enacting, first, that free men who should have one or two children by
slave women, as well as the slave-owners permitting the same, should be each
condemned to pay two thousand pounds of sugar; secondly, that if the violator of the
ordinance should be himself the owner of the mother and father of her children, the
mother and the children should be confiscated for the profit of the Hospital, and
deprived for their lives of the right to enfranchisement. An exception, however, was
made to the effect that if the father were unmarried at the period of his concubinage,
he could escape the provisions of the penalty by marrying, "according to the rites of
the Church," the female slave, who would thereby be enfranchised, and her children
"rendered free and legitimate." Probably the legislators did not imagine that the first
portion of the article could prove inefficacious, or that any violator of the ordinance
would seek to escape the penalty by those means offered in the provision. The facts,
however, proved the reverse. Miscegenation continued; and Labat notices two cases of
marriage between whites and blacks,—describing the offspring of one union as "very
handsome little mulattoes." These legitimate unions were certainly exceptional,—one
of them was dissolved by the ridicule cast upon the father;—but illegitimate unions
would seem to have become common within a very brief time after the passage of the
law. At a later day they were to become customary. The Article 9 was evidently at
fault; and in March, 1724, the Black Code was reinforced by a new ordinance, of which
the sixth provision prohibited marriage as well as concubinage between the races.
It appears to have had no more effect than the previous law, even in Martinique,
where the state of public morals was better than in Santo Domingo. The slave race had
begun to exercise an influence never anticipated by legislators. Scarcely a century had
elapsed since the colonization of the island; but in that time climate and civilization had
transfigured the black woman. "After one or two generations," writes the historian
Rufz, "the Africaine, reformed, refined, beautified in her descendants, transformed into
the creole negress, commenced to exert a fascination irresistible, capable of winning
anything (capable de tout obtenir)."[42] Travellers of the eighteenth century were
confounded by the luxury of dress and of jewellry displayed by swarthy beauties in St.
Pierre. It was a public scandal to European eyes. But the creole negress or mulattress,
beginning to understand her power, sought for higher favors and privileges than silken
robes and necklaces of gold beads: she sought to obtain, not merely liberty for herself,
but for her parents, brothers, sisters,—even friends. What successes she achieved in
this regard may be imagined from the serious statement of creole historians that if
human nature had been left untrammelled to follow its better impulses, slavery would
have ceased to exist a century before the actual period of emancipation! By 1738,
when the white population had reached its maximum (15,000),[43] and colonial luxury
had arrived at its greatest height, the question of voluntary enfranchisement was
becoming very grave. So omnipotent the charm of half-breed beauty that masters were
becoming the slaves of their slaves. It was not only the creole negress who had
appeared to play a part in this strange drama which was the triumph of nature over
interest and judgment: her daughters, far more beautiful, had grown up to aid her, and
to form a special class. These women, whose tints of skin rivalled the colors of ripe
fruit, and whose gracefulness—peculiar, exotic, and irresistible—made them formidable
rivals to the daughters of the dominant race, were no doubt physically superior to the
modern filles-de-couleur. They were results of a natural selection which could have
taken place in no community otherwise constituted;—the offspring of the union
between the finer types of both races. But that which only slavery could have rendered
possible began to endanger the integrity of slavery itself: the institutions upon which
the whole social structure rested were being steadily sapped by the influence of half-
breed girls. Some new, severe, extreme policy was evidently necessary to avert the
already visible peril. Special laws were passed by the Home-Government to check
enfranchisement, to limit its reasons or motives; and the power of the slave woman
was so well comprehended by the Métropole that an extraordinary enactment was
made against it. It was decreed that whosoever should free a woman of color would
have to pay to the Government three times her value as a slave!
Thus heavily weighted, emancipation advanced much more slowly than before, but it
still continued to a considerable extent. The poorer creole planter or merchant might
find it impossible to obey the impulse of his conscience or of his affection, but among
the richer classes pecuniary considerations could scarcely affect enfranchisement. The
country had grown wealthy; and although the acquisition of wealth may not evoke
generosity in particular natures, the enrichment of a whole class develops pre-existing
tendencies to kindness, and opens new ways for its exercise. Later in the eighteenth
century, when hospitality had been cultivated as a gentleman's duty to fantastical
extremes,—when liberality was the rule throughout society,—when a notary summoned
to draw up a deed, or a priest invited to celebrate a marriage, might receive for fee
five thousand francs in gold,—there were certainly many emancipations.... "Even
though interest and public opinion in the colonies," says a historian,[44] "were adverse
to enfranchisement, the private feeling of each man combated that opinion;—Nature
resumed her sway in the secret places of hearts;—and as local custom permitted a sort
of polygamy, the rich man naturally felt himself bound in honor to secure the freedom
of his own blood.... It was not a rare thing to see legitimate wives taking care of the
natural children of their husbands,—becoming their godmothers (s'en faire les
marraines)."... Nature seemed to laugh all these laws to scorn, and the prejudices of
race! In vain did the wisdom of legislators attempt to render the condition of the
enfranchised more humble,—enacting extravagant penalties for the blow by which a
mulatto might avenge the insult of a white,—prohibiting the freed from wearing the
same dress as their former masters or mistresses wore;—"the belles affranchies found,
in a costume whereof the negligence seemed a very inspiration of voluptuousness,
means of evading that social inferiority which the law sought to impose upon them:—
they began to inspire the most violent jealousies."[45]

[39]It is quite possible, however, that the slaves of Dutertre's time belonged for the most part to the
uglier African tribes; and that later supplies may have been procured from other parts of the slave coast.
Writing half a century later, Père Labat declares having seen freshly disembarked blacks handsome
enough to inspire an artist:—"J'en ai vu des deux sexes faits à peindre, et beaux par merveille" (vol. iv.
chap, vii,). He adds that their skin was extremely fine, and of velvety softness;—"le velours n'est pas
plus doux."... Among the 30,000 blacks yearly shipped to the French colonies, there were doubtless
many representatives of the finer African races.
[40]"Leur sueur n'est pas fétide comme celle des nègres de la Guinée," writes the traveller Dauxion-
Lavaysse, in 1813.
[41]Dr. E. Rufz: "Études historiques et statistiques sur la population de la Martinique." St. Pierre: 1850.
Vol. I, pp. 148-50.
It has been generally imagined that the physical constitution of the black race was proof against the
deadly climate of the West Indies. The truth is that the freshly imported Africans died of fever by
thousands and tens-of-thousands;—the creole-negro race, now so prolific, represents only the fittest
survivors in the long and terrible struggle of the slave element to adapt itself to the new environment.
Thirty thousand negroes a year were long needed to supply the French colonies. Between 1700 and
1789 no less than 900,000 slaves were imported by San Domingo alone;—yet there were less than half
that number left in 1789. (See Placide Justin's history of Santo Domingo, p. 147.) The entire slave
population of Barbadoes had to be renewed every sixteen years, according to estimates: the loss to
planters by deaths of slaves (reckoning the value of a slave at only £20 sterling) during the same period
was £1,600,000 ($8,000,000). (Burck's "History of European Colonies," vol. II., p. 141; French edition of
1767.)
[42]Rufz: "Études," vol. I., p. 236.
[43]I am assured it has now fallen to a figure not exceeding 5000.
[44]Rufz: "Études," vol. II., pp. 311, 312.
[45]Rufz: "Études," vol. I., p. 237.
 III

What the legislators of 1685 and 1724 endeavored to correct did not greatly improve
with the abolition of slavery, nor yet with those political troubles which socially
deranged colonial life. The fille-de-couleur, inheriting the charm of the belle affranchie,
continued to exert a similar influence, and to fulfil an almost similar destiny. The
latitude of morals persisted,—though with less ostentation: it has latterly contracted
under the pressure of necessity rather than through any other influences. Certain
ethical principles thought essential to social integrity elsewhere have always been
largely relaxed in the tropics; and—excepting, perhaps, Santo Domingo—the moral
standard in Martinique was not higher than in the other French colonies. Outward
decorum might be to some degree maintained; but there was no great restraint of any
sort upon private lives: it was not uncommon for a rich man to have many "natural"
families; and almost every individual of means had children of color. The superficial
character of race prejudices was everywhere manifested by unions, which although
never mentioned in polite converse, were none the less universally known; and the
"irresistible fascination" of the half-breed gave the open lie to pretended hate. Nature,
in the guise of the belle affranchie, had mocked at slave codes;—in the fille-de-couleur
she still laughed at race pretensions, and ridiculed the fable of physical degradation.
To-day, the situation has not greatly changed; and with such examples on the part of
the cultivated race, what could be expected from the other? Marriages are rare;—it has
been officially stated that the illegitimate births are sixty per cent; but seventy-five to
eighty per cent would probably be nearer the truth. It is very common to see in the
local papers such announcements as: Enfants légitimes, 1 (one birth announced);
enfants naturels, 25.
In speaking of the fille-de-couleur it is necessary also to speak of the extraordinary
social stratification of the community to which she belongs. The official statement of
20,000 "colored" to the total population of between 173,000 and 174,000 (in which the
number of pure whites is said to have fallen as low as 5,000) does not at all indicate
the real proportion of mixed blood. Only a small element of unmixed African descent
really exists; yet when a white creole speaks of the gens-de-couleur he certainly
means nothing darker than a mulatto skin. Race classifications have been locally made
by sentiments of political origin: at least four or five shades of visible color are classed
as negro. There is, however, some natural truth at the bottom of this classification:
where African blood predominates, the sympathies are likely to be African; and the
turning-point is reached only in the true mulatto, where, allowing the proportions of
mixed blood to be nearly equal, the white would have the dominant influence in
situations more natural than existing politics. And in speaking of the filles-de-couleur,
the local reference is always to women in whom the predominant element is white: a
white creole, as a general rule, deigns only thus to distinguish those who are nearly
white,—more usually he refers to the whole class as mulattresses. Those women
whom wealth and education have placed in a social position parallel with that of the
daughters of creole whites are in some cases allowed to pass for white,—or at the very
worst, are only referred to in a whisper as being de couleur. (Needless to say, these
are totally beyond the range of the present considerations: there is nothing to be
further said of them except that they can be classed with the most attractive and
refined women of the entire tropical world.) As there is an almost infinite gradation
from the true black up to the brightest sang-mêlé, it is impossible to establish any
color-classification recognizable by the eye alone; and whatever lines of demarcation
can be drawn between castes must be social rather than ethnical. In this sense we
may accept the local Creole definition of fille-de-couleur as signifying, not so much a
daughter of the race of visible color, as the half-breed girl destined from her birth to a
career like that of the belle affranchie of the old regime;—for the moral cruelties of
slavery have survived emancipation.
Physically, the typical fille-de-couleur may certainly be classed, as white creole writers
have not hesitated to class her, with the "most beautiful women of the human race."
[46] She has inherited not only the finer bodily characteristics of either parent race, but
a something else belonging originally to neither, and created by special climatic and
physical conditions,—a grace, a suppleness of form, a delicacy of extremities (so that
all the lines described by the bending of limbs or fingers are parts of clean curves), a
satiny smoothness and fruit-tint of skin,—solely West Indian.... Morally, of course, it is
much more difficult to describe her; and whatever may safely be said refers rather to
the fille-de-couleur of the past than of the present half-century. The race is now in a
period of transition: public education and political changes are modifying the type, and
it is impossible to guess the ultimate consequence, because it is impossible to safely
predict what new influences may yet be brought to affect its social development.
Befare the present era of colonial decadence, the character of the fille-de-couleur was
not what it is now. Even when totally uneducated, she had a peculiar charm,—that
charm of childishness which has power to win sympathy from the rudest natures. One
could not but feel attracted towards this naïf being, docile as an infant, and as easily
pleased or as easily pained,—artless in her goodnesses as in her faults, to all outward
appearance;—willing to give her youth, her beauty, her caresses to some one in
exchange for the promise to love her,—perhaps also to care for a mother, or a younger
brother. Her astonishing capacity for being delighted with trifles, her pretty vanities and
pretty follies, her sudden veerings of mood from laughter to tears,—like the sudden
rainbursts and sunbursts of her own passionate climate: these touched, drew, won,
and tyrannized. Yet such easily created joys and pains did not really indicate any deep
reserve of feeling: rather a superficial sensitiveness only,—like the zhèbe-m'amisé, or
zhèbe-manmzelle, whose leaves close at the touch of a hair. Such human
manifestations, nevertheless, are apt to attract more in proportion as they are more
visible,—in proportion as the soul-current, being less profound, flows more audibly. But
no hasty observation could have revealed the whole character of the fille-de-couleur to
the stranger, equally charmed and surprised: the creole comprehended her better, and
probably treated her with even more real kindness. The truth was that centuries of
deprivation of natural rights and hopes had given to her race—itself fathered by
passion unrestrained and mothered by subjection unlimited—an inherent scepticism in
the duration of love, and a marvellous capacity for accepting the destiny of
abandonment as one accepts the natural and the inevitable. And that desire to please
—which in the fille-de-couleur seemed to prevail above all other motives of action
(maternal affection excepted)—could have appeared absolutely natural only to those
who never reflected that even sentiment had been artificially cultivated by slavery.
She asked for so little,—accepted a gift with such childish pleasure,—submitted so
unresistingly to the will of the man who promised to love her. She bore him children—
such beautiful children!—whom he rarely acknowledged, and was never asked to
legitimatize;—and she did not ask perpetual affection notwithstanding,—regarded the
relation as a necessarily temporary one, to be sooner or later dissolved by the
marriage of her children's father. If deceived in all things,—if absolutely ill-treated and
left destitute, she did not lose faith in human nature: she seemed a born optimist,
believing most men good;—she would make a home for another and serve him better
than any slave.... "Née de l'amour," says a creole writer, "la fille-de-couleur vit d'amour,
de rires, et d'oublis."...[47]
Then came the general colonial crash!... You cannot see its results without feeling
touched by them. Everywhere the weird beauty, the immense melancholy of tropic
ruin. Magnificent terraces, once golden with cane, now abandoned to weeds and
serpents;—deserted plantation-homes, with trees rooted in the apartments and
pushing up through the place of the roofs;—grass-grown alleys ravined by rains;—fruit-
trees strangled by lianas;—here and there the stem of some splendid palmiste, brutally
decapitated, naked as a mast;—petty frail growths of banana-trees or of bamboo
slowly taking the place of century-old forest giants destroyed to make charcoal. But
beauty enough remains to tell what the sensual paradise of the old days must have
been, when sugar was selling at 52.
And the fille-de-couleur has also changed. She is much less humble and submissive,—
somewhat more exacting: she comprehends better the moral injustice of her position.
The almost extreme physical refinement and delicacy, bequeathed to her by the
freedwomen of the old regime, are passing away: like a conservatory plant deprived of
its shelter, she is returning to a more primitive condition,—hardening and growing
perhaps less comely as well as less helpless. She perceives also in a vague way the
peril of her race: the creole white, her lover and protector, is emigrating;—the
domination of the black becomes more and more probable. Furthermore, with the
continual increase of the difficulty of living, and the growing pressure of population,
social cruelties and hatreds have been developed such as her ancestors never knew.
She is still loved; but it is alleged that she rarely loves the white, no matter how large
the sacrifices made for her sake, and she no longer enjoys that reputation of fidelity
accorded to her class in other years. Probably the truth is that the fille-de-couleur
never had at any time capacity to bestow that quality of affection imagined or exacted
as a right. Her moral side is still half savage: her feelings are still those of a child. If
she does not love the white man according to his unreasonable desire, it is certain at
least that she loves him as well as he deserves. Her alleged demoralization is more
apparent than real;—she is changing from an artificial to a very natural being, and
revealing more and more in her sufferings the true character of the luxurious social
condition that brought her into existence. As a general rule, even while questioning her
fidelity, the creole freely confesses her kindness of heart, and grants her capable of
extreme generosity and devotedness to strangers or to children whom she has an
opportunity to care for. Indeed, her natural kindness is so strikingly in contrast with the
harder and subtler character of the men of color that one might almost feel tempted to
doubt if she belong to the same race. Said a creole once, in my hearing:—"The gens-
de-couleur are just like the tourtouroux:[48] one must pick out the females and leave
the males alone." Although perhaps capable of a double meaning, his words were not
lightly uttered;—he referred to the curious but indubitable fact that the character of
the colored woman appears in many respects far superior to that of the colored man.
In order to understand this, one must bear in mind the difference in the colonial
history of both sexes; and a citation from General Romanet,[49] who visited Martinique
at the end of the last century, offers a clue to the mystery. Speaking of the tax upon
enfranchisement, he writes:—
—"The governor appointed by the sovereign delivers the certificates of liberty,—on
payment by the master of a sum usually equivalent to the value of the subject. Public
interest frequently justifies him in making the price of the slave proportionate to the
desire or the interest manifested by the master. It can be readily understood that the
tax upon the liberty of the women ought to be higher than that of the men: the latter
unfortunates having no greater advantage than that of being useful;—the former know
how to please: they have those rights and privileges which the whole world allows to
their sex; they know how to make even the fetters of slavery serve them for
adornments. They may be seen placing upon their proud tyrants the same chains worn
by themselves, and making them kiss the marks left thereby: the master becomes the
slave, and purchases another's liberty only to lose his own."
Long before the time of General Romanet, the colored male slave might win liberty as
the guerdon of bravery in fighting against foreign invasion, or might purchase it by
extraordinary economy, while working as a mechanic on extra time for his own account
(he always refused to labor with negroes); but in either case his success depended
upon the possession and exercise of qualities the reverse of amiable. On the other
hand, the bondwoman won manumission chiefly through her power to excite affection.
In the survival and perpetuation of the fittest of both sexes these widely different
characteristics would obtain more and more definition with successive generations.
I find in the "Bulletin des Actes Administratifs de la Martinique" for 1831 (No. 41) a list
of slaves to whom liberty was accorded pour services rendus à leurs maîtres. Out of
the sixty-nine enfranchisements recorded under this head, there are only two names of
male adults to be found,—one an old man of sixty;—the other, called Laurencin, the
betrayer of a conspiracy. The rest are young girls, or young mothers and children;—
plenty of those singular and pretty names in vogue among the creole population,—
Acélie, Avrillette, Mélie, Robertine, Célianne, Francillette, Adée, Catharinette, Sidollie,
Céline, Coraline;—and the ages given are from sixteen to twenty-one, with few
exceptions. Yet these liberties were asked for and granted at a time when Louis
Philippe had abolished the tax on manumissions.... The same "Bulletin" contains a list
of liberties granted to colored men, pour service accompli dans la milice, only!
Most of the French West Indian writers whose works I was able to obtain and examine
speak severely of the hommes-de-couleur as a class,—in some instances the historian
writes with a very violence of hatred. As far back as the commencement of the
eighteenth century, Labat, who, with all his personal oddities, was undoubtedly a fine
judge of men, declared:—"The mulattoes are as a general rule well made, of good
stature, vigorous, strong, adroit, industrious, and daring (hardis) beyond all
conception. They have much vivacity, but are given to their pleasures, fickle, proud,
deceitful (cachés), wicked, and capable of the greatest crimes." A San Domingo
historian, far more prejudiced than Père Labat, speaks of them "as physically superior,
though morally inferior to the whites": he wrote at a time when the race had given to
the world the two best swordsmen it has yet perhaps seen,—Saint-Georges and Jean-
Louis.
Commenting on the judgment of Père Labat, the historian Borde observes:—"The
wickedness spoken of by Père Labat doubtless relates to their political passions only;
for the women of color are, beyond any question, the best and sweetest persons in the
world—à coup sûr, les meilleures et les plus douces personnes qu'il y ait au monde."—
("Histoire de l'Ile de la Trinidad," par M. Pierre Gustave Louis Borde, vol. I., p. 222.)
The same author, speaking of their goodness of heart, generosity to strangers and the
sick says "they are born Sisters of Charity";—and he is not the only historian who has
expressed such admiration of their moral qualities. What I myself saw during the
epidemic of 1887-88 at Martinique convinced me that these eulogies of the women of
color are not extravagant. On the other hand, the existing creole opinion of the men of
color is much less favorable than even that expressed by Père Labat. Political events
and passions have, perhaps, rendered a just estimate of their qualities difficult. The
history of the hommes-de-couleur in all the French colonies has been the same;—
distrusted by the whites, who feared their aspirations to social equality, distrusted even
more by the blacks (who still hate them secretly, although ruled by them), the
mulattoes became an Ishmaelitish clan, inimical to both races, and dreaded of both. In
Martinique it was attempted, with some success, to manage them by according
freedom to all who would serve in the militia for a certain period with credit. At no time
was it found possible to compel them to work with blacks; and they formed the whole
class of skilled city workmen and mechanics for a century prior to emancipation.
... To-day it cannot be truly said of the fille-de-couleur that her existence is made up of
"love, laughter, and forgettings." She has aims in life,—the bettering of her condition,
the higher education of her children, whom she hopes to free from the curse of
prejudice. She still clings to the white, because through him she may hope to improve
her position. Under other conditions she might even hope to effect some sort of
reconciliation between the races. But the gulf has become so much widened within the
last forty years, that no rapprochement now appears possible; and it is perhaps too
late even to restore the lost prosperity of the colony by any legislative or commercial
reforms. The universal creole belief is summed up in the daily-repeated cry: "C'est un
pays perdu!" Yearly the number of failures increase; and more whites emigrate;—and
with every bankruptcy or departure some fille-de-couleur is left almost destitute, to
begin life over again. Many a one has been rich and poor several times in succession;—
one day her property is seized for debt;—perhaps on the morrow she finds some one
able and willing to give her a home again... Whatever comes, she does not die for
grief, this daughter of the sun: she pours out her pain in song, like a bird, Here is one
of her little improvisations,—a song very popular in both Martinique and Guadeloupe,
though originally composed in the latter colony:—
—"Good-bye Madras!
Good-bye foulard!
Good-bye pretty calicoes!
Good-bye collier-choux!
That ship
Which is there on the buoy,
It is taking
My doudoux away."
—"Adiéu Madras!
Adiéu foulard!
Adiéu dézinde!
Adiéu collier-choux!
Batiment-là
Qui sou labouè-là,
Li ka mennein
Doudoux-à-moin allé."
—"Very good-day,—
Monsieur the Consignee.
I come
To make one little petition.
My doudoux
Is going away.
Alas! I pray you
Delay his going."
—"Bien le-bonjou',
Missié le Consignataire.
Moin ka vini
Fai yon ti pétition;
Doudoux-à-moin
Y ka pati,—T'enprie, hélas!
Rétàdé li."
[He answers kindly in French: the békés are always kind to these gentle children.]
—"My dear child,
It is too late.
The bills of lading
Are already signed;
The ship
Is already on the buoy.
In an hour from now
They will be getting her under way."
—"Ma chère enfant
Il est trop tard,
Les connaissements
Sont déjà signés,
Est déjà sur la bouée;
Dans une heure d'ici,
Ils vont appareiller."
—"When the foulards came....
I always had some;
When the Madras-kerchiefs came,
I always had some;
When the printed calicoes came,
I always had some.
... That second officer—Is such a kind man!"
—"Foulard rivé,
Moin té toujou tini;
Madras rivé,
Moin té toujou tini;
Dézindes rivé,
Moin té toujou tini.—Capitaine sougonde
C'est yon bon gàçon!"
"Everybody has
Somebody to love;
Everybody has
Somebody to pet;
Every body has
A sweetheart of her own.
I am the only one
Who cannot have that,—I!"
"Toutt moune tini
Yon moune yo aimé;
Toutt moune tini
Yon moune yo chéri;
Toutt moune tini
Yon doudoux à yo.
 Jusse moin tou sèle
Pa tini ça—moin!"
... On the eve of the Fête Dieu, or Corpus Christi festival, in all these Catholic
countries, the city streets are hung with banners and decorated with festoons and with
palm branches; and great altars are erected at various points along the route of the
procession, to serve as resting-places for the Host. These are called reposoirs; in creole
patois, "reposouè Bon-Dié." Each wealthy man lends something to help to make them
attractive,—rich plate, dainty crystal, bronzes, paintings, beautiful models of ships or
steamers, curiosities from remote parts of the world.... The procession over, the altar is
stripped, the valuables are returned to their owners: all the splendor disappears.... And
the spectacle of that evanescent magnificence, repeated year by year, suggested to
this proverb-loving people a similitude for the unstable fortune of the fille-de-couleur:—
Fortune milatresse c'est reposouè Bon-Dié. (The luck of the mulattress is the resting-
place of the Good-God).

[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.
[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.
[48]A sort of land-crab;—the female is selected for food, and, properly cooked, makes a delicious dish;—
the male is almost worthless.
[49]"Voyage à la Martinique," Par J. R., Général de Brigade. Paris: An. XII., 1804. Page 106.
 BÊTE-NI-PIÉ

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,[50] 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."

[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
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookname.com