Marilisse

Marilisse is one of the important early novels of Haitian literature, thus L'Harmattan's critical re-edition is significant. Focusing on several years in the life of a woman in Port-au-Prince, it tells the story of urban working-class women who experience the pain and suffering of life in politically unstable Haiti while their male partners often fail them or come up short in terms of material support or fidelity. However, the author, Frederic Marcelin, has created a beautiful, selfless mother whose self-sacrifice for her daughter and granddaughter exemplifies a positive image of the Haitian woman. One can see why some have described Marcelin as an early feminist novelist in terms of his non-judgmental depiction of a lower-class woman struggling to support her family. Indeed, aspects of this undoubtedly resonate today with working-class unattached mothers being a poto mitan for their families and communities.

Like Mimola or Zoune, the important social bonds between lower-class women are the bedrock of stability for the urban lower classes. This is especially evident in terms of Marilisse's close friendship with her neighbors Cessé and Zézé who rent homes in the same courtyard. These two women, despite experiencing their own difficulties with unloyal males (in plasaj relationships), declining health, and uncertain earnings as marchandes or seamstresses, often assist Marilisse in raising her child and establishing her laundry service. Joseph, a cymbalier and the father of her daughter, meanwhile, does nothing and eventually abandons his family after being caught sleeping with Tiyette.

Philo to Marilisse, page 120.

While still betraying Marcelin's own bourgeois background (for example, mockery of the superstitions of the urban poor and their willingness to support Modestin because he and his wife become godparents to several children, thereby bequeathing gifts to their families), the novel also shows the negative impact of Haitian political strife on the artisans and urban poor of the city. Marilisse's son-in-law, Philo, for instance, inherits from his father an ébénisterie which was praised for producing for Haitian consumers. However, under the son's lazy management, the workshop declined and Philo bought into the revolutionary rhetoric of Hercule Valdemar, a politically ambitious businessman who exploits the real need for protecting l'industrie nationale for his own purposes. 

Considering Marcelin's own views on Haiti's economic and social ills, he too likely wanted to promote national industry, but without revolutionary means or coups. Artisans and workers should focus on their labor, thereby improving production and serving Haiti through subsequent economic growth. Philo, however internalizes this through a satirical portrait of the wealthy businessman, Valdemar, who later takes advantage of him to ensure his coup succeeds. Thus, the artisans are drawn into the cycle of political conflicts and demagoguery, in spite of Philo's words to Marilisse hinting at class consciousness, a warning to those in power about the awakening of the artisans.

Nonetheless, artisans and reformers of the period (late 19th century or early 20th century) were correct about the government's failure to support the development of national industries or to provide support for artisans. In newspapers and pamphlets, some issued addresses to the national government or had their case pleaded by members of the political class. Historians such as Roger Gaillard have also drawn attention to the fear of class warfare among the Haitian elite, despite the small numbers of proletarians in Haiti. Indeed, even a mutual aid society for workers in the early 1900s sparked fears of socialism and anarchism. Other changes in Port-au-Prince of the era also hint toward starker class divisions and regulations, including the impersonal use of legal authorities to evict tenants and the importance of legal marriage as a social marker of status, suggestive of some degree of greater class stratification as the capital expanded.

However, can one speak of a working-class consciousness for Marilisse? She works with her own hands, cleaning and ironing clothes for her clients. She may be, at least in her early years, more of a small business owner since she employed an apprentice, Tiyette, as well as Zoune, to assist in the everyday operations. And, through her daughter's godparents and husband, she hopes for upward social mobility. However, her ties to the upper-class, which led to her enjoying lavish baptism ceremonies and the exquisite wedding of her daughter, financed by Valdemar, are not sustained. She's left supporting her progeny after the latter's shiftless husband quits working, and by the novel's end, is supporting Joseph again. She avoids politics, focusing on survival. But, there is a degree of social solidarity binding her with her women neighbors and the male workers and artisans living in the courtyard, as they're the socially excluded who suffer the adverse effects of insecurity, cheating men, or misery. They are the ones excluded from the political world, who have to experience physical pain and suffering through their years of hard labor in the sun, storms, or streets.

Her tragic tale seems to indicate more the oppressive conditions of life for the working people of the city, which develops through the author's sometimes satirical or humorous prose. What steps could Marilisse and the other women around her take to solve their problems? Hence, the tragedy. These women are trapped. In Mimola, Vodou provides, in part, an answer as a component of ancestral identity and women's religious or spiritual power. Catholicism, in Marilisse, clearly an important aspect of the titular character's public identity in terms of status, does not appear to offer any alternative. The men around them, who in a patriarchal society should be their caretakers, cannot do so. Much like the Haitian man of the elite, who could not compete with foreigners for the hearts of women of their class, the Haitian man of the working classes is not reliable, either.

Thus, Marilisse is useful for a historical overview of the working peoples of Port-au-Prince, as well as the tragic experiences women of the urban poor endured. While hinting at working-class angst and, in an attenuated form, rebellion, the lower classes here are subdued, yet, simultaneously, resilient. Marilisse herself, struggles onward, as the Haiti of her time continues its path down the road to destruction. As an early novel centered on a woman protagonist, Marcelin delivers a pioneering work which brings to life the concerns, experiences, and conflicts of the people who make Port-au-Prince work. Indeed, Marilisse is Haiti, leaving the reader to ponder the future of such a nation.